Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Alessio
T he car engine hums low as I guide us through the fog-drenched streets, the air outside heavy with the promise of rain. Sophia sits in the passenger seat, arms crossed and radiating a much calmer state than she exhibited these past few days. For a woman whose entire world flipped upside down overnight, she is handling this far better than I thought.
"We're almost there," I say flatly.
She doesn't respond, just shifts in her seat and glares out the window. Her reflection in the glass is a mix of defiance and something else—unease, maybe.
The warehouse looms ahead. I pull the car into the lot and park near the side entrance, cutting the engine.
Sophia turns to me. "So, what's the plan?"
"The plan is for you to be quiet and observe. I didn't want you here in the first place, princess."
"So am I supposed to sit here and look pretty while you play the knight in shining armor? Newsflash, Alessio, I am the mafia boss. I need to be involved in these things. No matter how gory and bloody."
I unbuckle my seatbelt, my movements slow and measured. "Are you sure you can stomach what you are about to see, Sophia? Can you watch me blow a man's brains out and not flinch?"
She gulps. "I want to at least be given the opportunity to try. You are alienating me before even giving me a fair shot. Please, Alessio."
My eyes scan her face, and my chest seizes for a second or two.
I resist the urge to tuck in one of the stray strands that has fallen from her loosely tied bun. Instead, I need to keep my distance. No matter how small, there always needs to be space between us.
I get out of the car and start walking toward the entrance. Sophia follows suit, her heels clicking against the cracked asphalt as she slams the car door shut.
"You need to stop treating me like a child." She falls into step with me. She pulls her coat jacket closer to her body to keep her body from the cold.
"I will stop treating you like a child when you stop acting like one, Sophia," I say. "You are trying to dive into the deep end without learning to paddle in the kiddy pool. You don't even know how to hold a gun."
"Then teach me." She grabs my elbow and pulls me to a halt just before the warehouse entrance. The wind picks up, and the cold tints her cheeks pink. Her eyes stare into mine with a resolved determination. "I want to do this, Alessio, so teach me how to handle this role."
I can feel this invisible tether between the two of us tugging at my center. The heat radiating from her body hits me, and suddenly, I am thrown off of my axis but only for a moment.
I swallow hard. "I will teach you."
"Okay." One side of her lips tilts upwards into a small smile. "See? Look at us getting along."
I clear my throat and step away from her. "Yeah, yeah."
Before she can retort, Matteo emerges from the shadows near the warehouse entrance. He's been my second for years, and he knows how to read a situation before it escalates.
"We're ready inside," Matteo says, his eyes flicking between Sophia and me. "It's not pretty."
"It never is," I mutter, motioning for Sophia to stay close as we walk through the entrance.
The interior of the warehouse is exactly what I expected—dim, grimy, and reeking of rust and oil. The flickering overhead lights cast long shadows across the crates and chains lining the walls. The faint metallic scent of blood hangs in the air, enough to make anyone's stomach turn, but I am used to the scent of death.
Sophia's steps falter as we move deeper into the space. Her eyes dart around, taking in the scene. It's clear this isn't a world she's used to, no matter how much she tries to pretend otherwise. Her body is rigid, and her face, once filled with color, is now paling.
This is a terrible idea. I knew it had been a bad idea before we left the mansion, and now that I am looking at her face, my initial guess is proven correct.
"Still think you can stomach this, princess?"
She doesn't speak. She just stares straight ahead, taking in what is in front of her.
I watch her carefully. "Reality."
In the center of the room, a man sits bound to a chair, his head slumped forward. Blood streaks his face and shirt, and his breathing is shallow but steady. Two of my men stand on either side of him, their stances rigid, their expressions unreadable.
"I see. So what? We are going to kill him or…" Sophia asks in a softer tone than I am used to.
This is a mistake. She isn't ready for this, and I had been overzealous to think that she was. Letting her stay here and witness what I am about to do will break her psyche. I need to ease her into this world. Not throw her in head first and hope she swims.
"Right, you're heading home." I come to a resolution and turn to face her fully. "You don't belong here."
The initial hesitance melts from her face, and irritation takes form on her features. Her jaw tightens, but she doesn't back down. "Maybe I don't, but that doesn't mean I'm leaving."
"You're not staying." I motion to Matteo, who has been silently following behind us. "Take her back to the estate."
Sophia's expression hardens, her defiance flaring brighter. "You don't get to decide?—"
"I do," I growl, stepping closer to her.
She opens her mouth to argue, but Matteo steps in, his hand firm yet careful on her arm. "Let's go, Sophia," he says softly.
Her fiery heat burns into mine as Matteo leads her toward the exit. There's no mistaking the anger in her eyes, but beneath it, there's something else—worry, maybe even fear. I watch until the door closes behind them, then turn back to the room and the man tied to the chair.
"Time to work," I mutter to myself and remove that woman from my mind. With what I'm about to do, I will need to tap into a darkness that no person should ever see—least of all her. I want to keep her uncorrupted for as long as possible.
The room falls into a heavy silence as I step closer to the informant, my boots scuffing against the concrete floor. He doesn't lift his head, but his shallow, ragged breaths echo off the warehouse walls. One of my men leans in, nudging him upright, and the man groans weakly. His face is a mess of blood and sweat, his eyes barely able to focus.
"I don't have all night," I say, my tone low but sharp enough to cut through the haze of pain surrounding him. "Start talking."
The man coughs, flecks of red staining his lips. "I... I don't know... what you're talking about." He quivers, but there's a faint trace of defiance—a spark he's clinging to, however foolishly.
I glance at my men, giving them a brief nod. One of them steps forward, delivering a calculated strike to the man's already bruised ribs. He howls, the sound echoing like a warning across the walls.
"I won't ask again," I say, crouching in front of him, my face level with his. "Domenico, I know that he has something to do with Trevor. His plans. His alliances. Start talking, or I will make this very unpleasant."
The man wheezes, his eyes darting around as if searching for an escape. "He's... he's building something big," he finally gasps out. "Expanding the network. But I swear, I don't know the details."
I stand, keeping my expression impassive. Lies are easy to sniff out, and fear makes men predictable. "Who's helping him?"
"I don't know?—"
Another strike cuts off his protest, and this time, he slumps forward, barely conscious. My patience wears thin, but I know there's a limit to how much he'll give me before he shuts down completely.
"Names," I demand. "And don't make me repeat myself."
He swallows hard, his breath hitching. "Domenico is… is into some nasty shit. The kind of shit that goes against everything the outfit stands for. If you get what I mean. There's a shipment... coming through the port next week. He's... using it to make connections with someone outside the families. That's all I know, I swear."
I glance at my men, who nod in silent confirmation—they've heard enough. As I step back, the informant sags against the chair, his body slack with relief.
"Take him to the holding facility," I instruct, my tone curt. "We'll decide what to do with him later."
The men begin hauling the informant away, his muffled protests growing weaker with every step. I turn to Matteo, who's just reentered the room.
"Is she home?" I ask, not bothering to mask my irritation.
Matteo gives me a small shrug. "She's on her way, I had Dylan drive her. Not happy about it, though. You've got your hands full with that one."
"Tell me something I don't know," I mutter, running a hand through my hair. "Fucking Domenico is beginning to be a thorn in my side. He is up to something. Alejandro was onto his brother before he died, and now he is trying shit with Sophia."
Matteo frowns. "He's always been a sly one. But I'm not sure what to make of him now. It would be against the code to try and usurp the Romano throne. There are laws, procedures that he is not following."
I scoff. "And do you think he cares? The man only wants power. There is no honor in him."
Matteo nods his agreement. "Are you going to fill her in on what we found?"
"No," I say, the word coming out sharper than I intended. I exhale, trying to rein in my frustration. "Not yet. She doesn't need to know everything, not until I have more pieces of the puzzle. Why worry her when we can't do anything right away."
Matteo doesn't argue, just inclines his head before stepping away.
I stand in the warehouse and stare at my bloodied hands. I shake out my fist and look at the sky as if I can find an answer from the heavens. I am in the middle of a game with many moving pieces. One wrong move and it could cost everything. I need to be careful.
The drive back to the estate is quiet, my thoughts circling like vultures. Domenico's plans are bigger than I anticipated, and the pieces are starting to come together in a way that leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I had my suspicions months before Alejandro's death, but to now have solid evidence? The New York outfit was many things, but we do not touch women or children. That is the law. For Alejandro to be in this line of work?
Flashes of my own childhood fill my memory, and my blood boils all over again.
Trafficking was a line Alejandro Romano never crossed, a boundary Domenico is eager to obliterate in his hunger for power.
I grip the steering wheel tighter. Sophia has no idea what she's up against, and I'm not sure she's ready to hear it. The weight of my promise to her father feels heavier with each passing day.
By the time I pull into the estate, the house is nothing but shadows. I cut the engine and step inside.
I find her pacing in the library, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Her long wavy curls are loose. The budding fire casts long shadows across her face, highlighting the tension etched into her features. She stops when she sees me, her eyes narrowing.
"Well?" she demands, her tone sharp. "Did you learn anything, or am I still on a need-to-know basis?"
"Not now," I say. I rub the sides of my temple and try to soothe the growing headache.
"Not now?" she exclaims. "You're unbelievable, Alessio! You expect me to sit here like some clueless doll while you?—"
"Enough," I snap, cutting her off. "This isn't about what you want to know, Sophia. Do you think I'm out there for fun? Risking everything just to keep you in the dark? Everything I do, every move I make, is to protect you. There are a lot moving pieces here, and one wrong move from me costs your life and mine."
Her glare is fiery, but there's a crack in her armor—a flash of something that gives me pause.
"I don't want to be protected like I'm fragile," she mutters.
I soften, just slightly, my hands resting on the back of the chair. "You're not fragile, Sophia. In fact, you are one of the strongest people I know. But you're in danger. And until we deal with that threat over your head, you have to trust me and the decisions I make for you. Even if you hate it."
She doesn't respond immediately, just holds my glance, searching for something I can't name. Finally, she nods, a reluctant, almost imperceptible gesture.
It's enough. For now.
The thickness in the library lingers long after Sophia retreats to the couch, her arms folded tightly across her chest. She's not a woman who yields easily, I know that much. Her calmness isn't surrender—it's strategy. She's regrouping, trying to find another angle to pry information out of me.
I run a hand down my face and exhale slowly. My head's pounding from the interrogation, from the weight of everything I uncovered tonight. I sit across from her, the firelight moving between us, casting her expression in sharp relief.
"You're holding something back," she finally says. "I can see it. You're not telling me everything."
I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. "Because you don't need to know everything, Sophia. Not yet."
Her eyes narrow. "That's not your call, Alessio. You're the one who keeps telling me to deal with the sharks in the water, but yet you're the one trying to put fucking floaties on me."
I hold back the initial snort of laughter that threatens to break free.
"It is my call." I stand in my conviction. "If I told you everything now, you'd do something reckless—something that could get you killed. Something that could get my men killed. You aren't my only responsibility."
She stands abruptly, pacing the length of the library like a caged tiger. "You don't trust me to handle the truth. That's what this is really about."
"No," I reply, my tone softening but not losing its edge. "This is about you staying alive long enough to handle it."
She stops pacing and glares at me. "What happens when I prove you wrong? When I show you I'm not some weak little girl who needs your protection?"
"You won't prove me wrong," I say, standing to meet her face-to-face. "Because you're not going to get the chance to try. Not until this is over."
Her jaw tightens, and for a moment, I think she might lash out, but instead, she spins on her heel and storms toward the door.
"Where are you going?" I demand.
"Anywhere but here," she snaps, her hand on the doorknob.
"You're not leaving," I say, my tone brooking no argument.
She freezes, her shoulders stiff. "Watch me."
Before she can take another step, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, my brow furrowing as I read the message from Matteo: Domenico's location confirmed. Moving tonight.
"Damn it," I mutter under my breath. Sophia notices immediately.
"What is it?" she asks, her defiance giving way to curiosity.
"Nothing you need to worry about," I say, pocketing the phone.
Her eyes flash with anger. "Whatever you think you're hiding from me, I probably already know."
I step closer, towering over her. "No. You don't. You're staying here. End of discussion." She opens her mouth to argue, but I cut her off. "You want to prove me wrong? Then stay alive. Let me handle this."
Her eyes burn into mine, the fire of her anger refusing to dim, but she doesn't move to follow me as I head toward the door.
The drive to the rendezvous point is awkward, every second stretching thin under the weight of what's about to unfold. Matteo meets me outside an abandoned dockyard, his expression grim.
"He's inside," Matteo says, nodding toward a warehouse at the edge of the pier. "Small crew. Shouldn't be too much trouble."
"Small crews are the ones that leave surprises," I mutter, checking my weapon.
Matteo smirks faintly. "Good thing surprises are your specialty."
We move in quietly, our footsteps muffled by the damp concrete. The warehouse looms ahead, its broken windows glowing faintly with light from within. My pulse quickens, but I keep my focus razor-sharp. This isn't just about Domenico anymore—this is about dismantling everything he's built before it can destroy Sophia.
Inside, the air is thick with the stench of salt and decay. Domenico stands near a stack of crates, flanked by two men. His presence commands the room, his sharp hazel eyes scanning the shadows like he's expecting us.
"Alessio," he drawls, a smug grin spreading across his face. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
He was expecting us. He knew that we were going to come.
"Cut the theatrics, Domenico," I say, stepping into the light. Matteo follows close behind, his weapon drawn but pointed low. "We know what you're doing. And it ends tonight."
Domenico chuckles, the sound low and mocking. "You've always been loyal to my brother, but I never pegged you for this naive. Do you really think you can stop me?"
"I don't think," I reply, raising my gun. "I know."
The tension is a thick sludge in the air. Domenico stands tall and strong, like the king he believes himself to be. His men stand at his side, guns still at their sides, not at all shaken by our own aimed at their boss.
What the hell is going on here? Why is he acting so calm and collected for a man who seems to have been caught red-handed?
"Why don't you put your toys away, and let's talk like men, shall we?"
I look at Matteo, who looks just as puzzled as I am.
"What is your endgame here, Domenico?"
His lips pull into a crocodile smile. "Isn't it obvious? I want the throne."
"Over my dead body." I hold my stance.
"That can be arranged." He claps his hands together. "Come now, Alessio. Did you really think that you could catch me out? Me? You are far more naive than I believed you to be. To think Alejandro trusted you to be his sword. Tragedy. And look how that turned out for him."
I snap my gun into place. "And what makes you think that I can't kill you right here where you stand?"
"Because of my dear sweet niece. Do you really think I would open myself like this without ensuring that she would fall if something should happen to me? You left her all alone in that big house. Don't you know any human can be turned for a price?"
My blood runs cold.
"Yes," he cackles. "I will hand it to you. Your men are not easily swayed. Believe me, I have tried many a time. But just because the guards around her can't be compromised doesn't mean other people cannot."
There will be hell to pay if anyone harms a single hair on her head.
"So you kill your brother and plan to usurp your niece. How cowardly of you, Domenico."
"It is unfortunate what happened to my brother, but alas, I had no hand in that. I am simply an opportunist who seeks to exploit an open gap," he says. "And while we are being honest here, I didn't kill Trevor, either. Tacky plays like that are not really my play. I have a more refined and classy touch."
"Watch yourself, Romano." My blood bubbles in my body. "There is no gap to exploit. The Romano family has an heir."
He huffs with evil lurking in his eyes. "For now. But you see, the world we live in is a dangerous one, Alessio. It's why it's important to know which side to choose. I know which side I have chosen. Do you? Sophia will never be safe. Not with you. Go ahead, shoot me if you dare. But the moment that bullet pierces my skin, she is dead, too, and you will have failed Alejandro yet again."
The words hit harder than any bullet. I hesitate, just for a second, and it's enough for Domenico to step away and make his way out of the warehouse, leaving me stumped and at a loss for the first time in years.
Fuck.
When I return to the estate hours later, the weight of the night hangs heavy on me. I head straight to her room first, Domenico's words playing over and over again in my head like a broken record. I need to see that she is okay. I need to see that she is still breathing.
I walk up the stairs and head to her room, making my way through the dark halls of the mansion. Two guards flank her door, and I ease a fraction. But knowing the woman I am keeping, she could have easily snuck out at any given point. I am not only protecting her from Domenico, but I am also protecting her from her own destructiveness.
When I arrive at the door, the two men give me their acknowledgement and allow me to pass. I don't bother knocking. I open the door and make my way inside.
All the lights are off except for the side lamp by the small table beside her. I see the silhouette of her sleeping form under the sheets and her wild brown hair sprawled out all over the pillowcase. I watch the slow rise and fall of her chest for a moment, and when I see it, I let go of the breath I had no idea I had been holding.
She's alive. He didn't get to her. She is safe.
I walk over to her bed and sit at the edge of the bed. I watch her sleep. Her face seems at ease. I am so used to seeing it riddled with distrust that to see her at peace—somewhat—makes me feel better.
She will never know peace in this world ever again. Not after what Domenico just declared.
I turn my head to the side table and find an empty teacup filled with the remaining leaves of the tea I requested to be made for her every night.
"Look who's finally listening." My voice is barely audible to my own ears. An involuntary smile makes its way to my lips against my better judgement. I reach out and brush a stray strand of hair from her face out of sheer temptation.
She stirs a little, and I fear she is about to wake up, but then she settles back to sleep. I take a moment to drink her in for what feels like the first time.
Sophia Romano.
She has always been the apple of Alejandro's eye, the beauty that could launch a thousand ships. She is sought after by every male within our world, and who wouldn't want to pursue her? A flower. A diamond. The most tantalizing spell no man could ever resist.
I always thought I was immune to her beauty. I fucked multiple women from every corner of the globe, and yet here I am, brought right down to my knees. But it isn't her beauty that calls to me. It is something buried deep within her that my darkness craves to corrupt, and that is the very reason I know why I need to stay as far away from her as possible.
Sophia will never be safe. Not with you.
Whatever Domenico has planned, I will make sure I am ready. I already lost one Romano. I refuse to lose another. Even if it means laying down my own life.