10. Alessio #2
"Then don't name him yet," she says. "We don't go to Dominic with suspicions. We go with proof. Physical, undeniable proof. We find the hardware and see who is sitting in the chair. No more guessing."
I stare at her, my heart aching with desperate love. She is the first hand on the weight with mine.
"If it’s him..."
"If it’s him, we handle it. Together."
I pull her to me, crushing her against my chest. I bury my face in her hair, breathing her in. She is my partner. My spine. After eleven years, the weight feels lighter. Someone else is helping me carry it.
“I’ve spent so long looking for a monster,” I mutter, “that I forgot wanting anything else was allowed.”
"I’m not a saint, Alessio."
"Good. Saints don't survive here."
I pull back just enough to look at her. The fear returns, sharp enough to make me reach for control.
“Until we know who’s watching, neither of us moves alone.
Kitchen, garden, hallway—we use pairs and code words.
The mole knows we’re digging. They know you’re the one with the keys to the ledger.
You’re the biggest threat they’ve ever faced. "
"I can take care of myself."
"I don't care. I’m not losing you. I’ve spent my whole life losing people. I’m done. The universe doesn't get another one." I lean down, pressing my forehead against hers. “You matter in a way I don’t know how to survive. But if I don’t end this war, none of us survive. Do you understand?”
"Alessio—"
"Say it. Say you understand."
"I understand," she whispers.
I kiss her then, a hard, desperate claim that tastes like salt and fire. She is the only person who knows the truth of who I am, and she hasn't run away. She’s seen the list and the ghosts and the blood, and she’s still here.
We stand in the blue glow of the vault. The beast in the walls continues to growl, but I’m not listening to the servers. I’m listening to her heart beating against mine.
“The list,” she says after a moment, pulling back. “You said there were five on paper. But you’re acting like there’s another.”
I look back at the desk. The paper is still there, the black line through Turi’s name looking like a scar.
“The sixth name wasn't on the paper,” I say, my voice dropping. “The sixth name was mine.”
She freezes. "What?"
"I’m the one who goes everywhere. I have the most to gain if my brothers fall.
I have the secret room and the encrypted files.
If I were looking at this from the outside, I’d be the prime suspect.
I’ve spent eleven years checking my own logs first, because a vault has to prove it hasn't been opened.”
I look at my hands, the scarred, steady hands that have saved lives. "I’ve checked my own logs. I’ve tracked my own movements. I’ve put myself through the same hell I put the others through. It’s a special kind of madness, looking in the mirror and wondering if you’re the villain."
She reaches out and takes my hands, squeezing them hard. Her eyes burn. "You’re not the villain, Alessio. You’re the one who stayed. You’re the one who kept the secrets so they wouldn't have to. A traitor doesn't hunt himself for a decade."
“I would do anything for them,” I say. “And now I have to protect you without betraying them.”
I pull her back into my arms. The paranoia is still there, lurking, but it’s quieter.
“We start now,” I say. “We mirror the terminal, watch the library, and wait for him to touch the line again. And when the rat comes out, we finish this.”
"And if it’s him?"
I close my eyes. I see Turi’s kind face. I see him looking at my mother’s portrait.
“If it’s him,” I say, my voice turning to ice, “I’ll be the one to bring him to Dominic. Because nobody hurts my family. And nobody puts a target on you.”
She trembles against my chest, but her grip on my shirt tightens. We are bound by the rot inside these walls.
I lead her out of the vault, locking the heavy steel door. The hallway is silent, every sound too loud because now I’m listening for betrayal.
As I walk her back to my room, I keep close enough to feel her beside me
"Get some sleep," I tell her at the bed. I pull the covers back. I keep my boots on, the weapon holstered and within reach, and take the chair facing the door.
Tonight, the vault does not sleep.
Amara watches me before she finally settles into the pillows. She doesn't ask me to come to bed. She knows I can't. She knows I sleep with one eye open and a blade in my hand.
The moon hangs low over the city. Somewhere out there, Alvarado Vane is waiting. Somewhere in this house, a traitor is sleeping.
And right here, in this room, is the only thing worth saving.
I watch the rise and fall of her chest. I’ll keep her safe. I’ll cut out every lie in this house if I have to.
I've spent my life cutting out rot. This is just another tumor, even if it's one I loved.
I sit still because moving too soon might make me careless.
For her. Always for her.
The truth is closer than morning. I can feel it in the air, the electric charge of a storm about to break.
I am ready.
I stand up, my joints popping. I walk to the bed and lean over, pressing a kiss to her temple. She stirs but doesn't wake.
“I’ll come back,” I whisper.
I turn and walk toward the door. It’s time to face the library.
As I step into the hallway, a distant sound shatters the silence. A muffled, rhythmic tapping.
From the library.
My blood goes cold. I palm the grip of my Beretta.
The rat is in the hole.
I don't wake her yet—not until I know what's behind that door. I move quiet, feet silent on the carpet. I reach the library doors, heavy oak carved with ancient battles. I press my ear to the wood.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The sound of keys. The sound of a conversation.
I take a deep breath, my finger tightening on the trigger. I’m about to break my world.
I push one door open slowly, phone already recording.
The room is dark, save for the blue glow of the monitor. A figure slumps in the chair. They don't turn.
"I’ve been waiting for you, Alessio," the voice says.
It’s the voice that read me bedtime stories. It’s Turi.
I don't lower the gun. My hand is steady, a surgeon’s hand, even as my soul screams.
"Turn around," I growl.
He turns the chair slowly. He looks old. The light from the screen makes his skin look like parchment. His eyes are hollow.
“I hoped it would be Dominic. He would have just ended it. I was sending one last warning, praying he'd find me before you did. But you... you’ve always seen too much.”
"Why, Turi?"
He looks at the screen, at the blinking light of the encryption node.
“Because debt is a dangerous thing, Alessio,” he whispers. “And because I loved your mother enough to convince myself one sin could buy her safety.”
The floor feels like it’s falling away.
“You sold the routes,” I say. “You told yourself it was debt, but it was never only debt.”
“I owed money. I was desperate,” he counters, his voice cracking. “I told myself if the Bellantis took the routes, the debt would clear and the war would end. I thought she would be free. I never intended for them to die.”
“But they did die. My father was left in an alley. Years later, my mother was murdered too. Your first lie never stopped killing us. And you raised their children with blood on your hands.”
“I’ve spent years trying to make it right,” he says, gesturing to the screen. “Every tip, every warning—it was all I knew how to give back. Doesn't any of it count?”
"No." I step closer, the barrel of the gun inches from his forehead. "It counts for nothing."
He looks up at me. "Then do it," he says, closing his eyes. "End the secret. I’m tired of carrying it, Alessio."
My finger trembles on the trigger.
Behind me, a soft footstep.
"Alessio?"
It’s Amara.
I don't look back. "Go back to the room, Amara."
"No." She walks in, taking in the scene. She looks at Turi, then at me. She looks resolved. "The logs were right."
"He’s the one," I say.
Turi looks at her, a small, sad smile on his lips. "You must be the accountant. I should have known. Numbers don't have hearts to break."
“Then stop asking numbers to forgive you,” she says coldly.
I look at Turi and see the death of my childhood.
“I’m not calling the tribunal until the switch is dead,” I say. “I’m not handing Vane a house split open.”
"What are you going to do?" Turi asks.
"I’m going to keep you here," I say. "And tomorrow, we’re going to tell Dominic. But not until I’ve dismantled Vane’s switch. You’re going to give us everything. Every contact, every code."
"And then?"
"And then," I say, "you’re going to answer to my brothers."
I lower the gun, but the weight pulls at my arms. I turn to Amara. Her support is the only thing keeping me upright.
“He’s going to a locked holding room under Rico’s guard,” I tell her. “No terminal, no phone. Nobody talks to him but Dominic and me.”
"I’m not losing this, Amara. Not now. We have the traitor. The war ends this week."
I grab her hand. I need the reality of her to drown out the nightmare.
Rico takes the door as we step out, and only then do I lead Turi from the library to the holding room and turn the lock. The foundation of my life vanishes.
The house is falling. Her hand is the only thing keeping me standing.
As we walk back, the first gray of dawn is starting over the lake. In a few hours this house will wake. Matteo will bake because his hands need work. The table will set itself around an absence no one understands yet.
And I will stand inside all that warmth holding the coldest thing I have ever carried.
Amara’s hand tightens in mine, like she can hear me thinking.
One more hour. Long enough to lock the switch. Then the vault opens.
God forgive me for waiting.