Chapter Nineteen – Cassian
I cross into the common room.
Lorenzo’s near the console, phone in hand. Allegra’s pacing. The movement is tight, repetitive. Her hands are knotted in front of her, white at the knuckles.
She stops when she sees me. So does he.
Her voice lands flat, quiet. “My phone’s gone. I think Elaria took it when we hugged.”
Lorenzo swipes across his screen, pulls up the tracking app. The glow illuminates his face, sharpens the lines under his eyes. He taps twice, scans the result. Then turns the phone slightly toward her.
A pin pulses on the screen.
“Valosi estate. That’s where the phone is.”
No one says anything.
Allegra turns, moves to the television. “Look at this.”
Her hand finds the remote. The volume is already set low. The channel’s changed. Syndicate network. Private feed.
The broadcast begins.
A man stands at a podium, a polished seal mounted behind him. He is a well known face in Melbourne, Guillermo Valosi. Fausto stands one step back, his hands folded in front of him. They’re flanked by men in tailored coats.
A message scrolls at the bottom of the screen:
To all acknowledged families. Private distribution only.
Guillermo’s voice comes through, clear, formal.
“After careful deliberation and consultation with our respected ally, Fausto Fontanesi, I am honored to announce my forthcoming union with the Fontanesi heir, Elaria. She, like many, bears her father's sins. Oreste was judged, and judged harshly. But his daughter—his legacy—deserves restoration.”
He looks directly into the camera.
“This alliance between the Valosi and Fontanesi families marks a new direction for Melbourne’s order. We seek unity. Growth. And the erasure of old debts.”
A brief nod from Fausto behind him.
Guillermo’s voice lowers slightly.
“She begins again. With protection. With purpose. With me. I hope for your support and blessings as we begin this new chapter.”
The television goes black.
Then Allegra’s voice breaks the stillness. “Guillermo has the power. This was Fausto’s plan all along. That’s why he took her.”
The echo of Guillermo's speech lingers like smoke in the room.
Allegra hasn’t moved. Her arms are folded, eyes still locked on the blank screen.
There is a knock on the door and Lorenzo stands straight. A man enters wearing no insignia.
Two men follow him. Armed. They remain near the door, hands near their jackets but not reaching. They are here to be seen, not used.
“Cassian Rivetti?”
His voice is smooth but practiced.
Lorenzo steps forward first. “Who’s asking?”
The man barely glances at him. His focus never leaves me.
“I’m Maddox. I speak for the council of families.” He continues. “You’ve been summoned.” Maddox’s tone stays calm. “There’s a session in two days. Attendance is mandatory. The vote came through this morning.” Maddox shifts the envelope between his fingers. “Your uncle submitted a motion for removal.”
It doesn’t matter that he’s in a hospital bed. That his right eye may never open again. From a gurney, he still found a pen.
The families working with the Rivettis made up the council. Dante must have gotten in their ear somehow.
Maddox waits.
“I no longer answer to the Council.”
A gasp escapes Allegra and Lorenzo looks at me, stunned. My voice sounds foreign even to me, it’s the first time I have heard it in years.
A flash of surprise passes his face but he asks, “So you’ll stand alone.”
“The families that want to work with us can. The ones that don’t—we won’t miss them.”
“I’ll let them know.”
He turns. The two men follow. Their footsteps fade down the hall. The door shuts behind them with a quiet click.
“We’re going to get her,” I say.
****
Men gather in the garage bay, sidearms unholstered, clips passed hand to hand. No one raises their voice, but everything is loud.
Boots hit concrete. Engines turn over.
In the weapons room, Lorenzo shoves open a crate lid. His sleeves are rolled. The shoulder holster already strapped across his chest shifts as he bends. He pulls rifles from foam casing and lays them on the bench, one after another, like laying tools before an autopsy.
Allegra’s voice cuts from the back hall. “I want four in the van. Two out front. Anyone late stays behind.”
She’s already dressed for it—black utility jacket, sleeves pinned to the elbows, cargo pants tucked into combat boots. Her braid is tight and low. A single hairpin clenched between her teeth as she yanks it secure.
She fits her radio mic to the edge of her collar. “Check your charges. I don’t want surprises on the second floor.”
Lorenzo loads the first weapon, locks the magazine, checks the sight. Another rifle lands in his hands without asking.
A young man—barely twenty—passes Allegra the detonator satchel. She takes it without looking at him.
I open the trunk in the far corner of the room. The key turns smooth. The hinges groan once. The gear is lined exactly where I left it—two blades, one fixed, one folding. I pull the vest over my head. The Velcro locks down with a sound that cuts through everything else.
The steel underlayer sits snug against my ribs. I don’t need to check the fit. It hasn’t changed.
The knife sheath clips to my belt at the back.
I slide the pistol in place. The safety clicks off.
Lorenzo shoulders the duffel and heads toward the car. Allegra checks the time. “Three minutes,” she says.
The men pile into two cars. Two more load into the van. The convoy moves. The road cuts between trees, dirt climbing up the fenders.
The cars travel quietly, engines humming, headlights off.
I am coming Elaria.
The estate comes into view after an hour’s drive, rising up ahead, its silhouette cutting through the night.
The first car slows, signaling a stop at the edge of the estate.
The gates are ahead—massive, black iron bars, closed tight. Two men in the back of the van open their doors. They pull out tools and Allegra is already moving beside them, checking her equipment.
Lorenzo steps out of the car behind her, his eyes scanning the perimeter. He gives a quick nod.
One of the men walks toward the gate. He checks the lock mechanism first, then signals to Allegra. She looks at him, silent, and moves in tandem with him. The second man sets up a small jammer, sliding it into place against the ground. A green light flickers on the device. The cameras that once tracked us go dark.
Allegra watches the timer on the detonator, her fingers still, her eyes focused.
“Ten seconds,” she says quietly.
The men pull back, one moving to the van, the other to the side. They retreat to cover.
Allegra steps back too, watching the signal from the jammer.
A loud pop sounds as the first charge goes off, followed by a flash of light. The force of the explosion sends a shockwave through. The gates shudder and then break apart. Metal snaps and splits. The chains that held them shut fall to the ground.
We pour into the mansion and gunfire erupts from the left.
The sound of metal on stone cuts through.
"Ambush!" someone shouts.
A stream of bullets cuts across the courtyard. One ricochets off the stone pillar beside me. The force sends a jolt through my shoulder.
Lorenzo’s voice cuts through the chaos. “Take cover!”
He’s already ahead, ducking behind a stone wall as more fire breaks out.
The team scatters—some to the right, some further to the left. The Valosi men are positioned along the windows, hidden in the shadows of the estate’s stone facade. We’re out in the open.
Allegra’s eyes flash to me.
She gestures sharply toward the ground. “Get to cover!”
I move to the left, stepping behind a heavy stone column just as another round hits the pillar, sending a dust cloud into the air.
Allegra follows.
The fire is relentless. The guards are in position, two windows above and one across from us. There’s a pause—just enough time for us to adjust.
I turn toward the others, already moving.
“Grenades,” Allegra mutters, her hands working quickly to retrieve a couple from her vest. Her fingers set the pins and toss them high.
The explosions rock the windows. Glass shatters in sharp showers, sending a ripple of debris across the courtyard.
For a moment, the fire halts. The Valosi men regroup, moving from cover to cover. They’re quick. They’re well-trained.
I make my move. I charge forward, low, moving between pillars. I close the gap between us. A burst of fire rips past me, narrowly missing my side.
I round the corner, moving further into the yard.
Lorenzo and Allegra are already ahead, covering the remaining two sides. They’re trying to corner us.
I reach the front door. Two men stand in front of it, rifles at the ready.
My fist connects with the first man’s jaw. A swing of my arm brings him down hard onto the ground. He doesn’t move again.
The man crumbles to the floor with a sickening thud. His body folds under my fist, and he doesn’t move again.
Suddenly Fausto appears, his posture relaxed, like he’s stepped in from the other side of a doorway. His eyes flick over the man lying motionless at my feet, his lips curling just enough to show his amusement.
“What’s all the ruckus?” His voice is casual, as if he’s waiting for an answer to an inconsequential question.
“Where is she?”
He looks at me, his smile widening.
“The mute speaks,” Fausto says, almost with fondness. “There’s no need for all the theatrics, Cassian,” he continues. "Guillermo Valosi and his bride-to-be are spending some quality time together, if that’s what you’re here for. Working on… implanting his seed into her, you might say.”
He lets out a low chuckle.
My fingers are already curling around the hilt of my blade, but I hold myself still.
“Elaria tried to run, of course,” Fausto continues, his voice still mockingly soft. “Stubborn bride syndrome. But no worries.” He raises his hand, signaling to the men in the corners, almost dismissively. “She’s making up with her husband as we speak. You’ll be pleased to know.”
He turns toward the hallway. “I’ll show you,” he adds with a slight smirk.
I follow him, Allegra and Lorenzo close behind, our men outside. The only sounds are the echo of our steps and the muffled groans of distant voices, growing louder as we approach.
We reach the wing of the house where Fausto leads us. He stops in front of a door, gesturing casually with a flick of his hand.
I hear it—soft, almost inaudible at first. The unmistakable sound of a groan.
Fausto smiles, barely looking back.
“You hear that?” he asks. “She’s learning her place. It’s a beautiful thing, really.”
I push past him, moving to the door without waiting for him. The door crashes open.
Guillermo Valosi lies on the ground, a knife lodged deep in his chest. Blood pools beneath him, staining the stone floor. He groans, barely conscious, eyes glazed over.
Elaria is seated on top of him. Her clothes are torn. Her breath comes in gasps, but she’s still alive. Her skin is pale, her chest heaving with each shallow breath. She’s trembling.
Guillermo’s men fill the room in an instant. Allegra shouts into her transmitter.
“Get them in here. Now!”
The sound of boots on the stairs, the rush of men flooding in from the hall, fills the room.
I move to Elaria’s side, but one of Guillermo’s guards grabs my arm. I twist, bringing the blade down in one swift motion, cutting through his grip and slicing across his chest.
Another man rushes toward me, but Allegra is already on him, taking him down with a clean strike. She doesn’t stop. She’s moving faster than the men in the room can react.
I reach down to her, but she flinches, her body still trembling. Her eyes flick up to mine, wide with confusion and fear. The fight continues around us. I’m still holding her when the door slams open again. More Valosi men.
The blood from Guillermo’s body seeps across the floor, staining everything in its path.