Chapter 25 Adriana
ADRIANA
I crash into a solid chest, half blind with panic. The man steps aside, and behind him stands Julianne.
For a heartbeat I can’t breathe. Then I grab her arms. “What are you doing here?”
Julianne’s eyes are huge. “I saw you with Bella earlier. I thought I was seeing things.” Her voice shakes. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere and I was starting to lose hope.”
“Oh my God,” I whisper. I pull her into a tight hug. She clings to me, and for a moment the noise of the street fades. All I feel is her heartbeat racing against mine.
When I finally let her go, I observe that she’s wearing an oversized hoodie. I’ve never seen my sister dressed so shabbily. And did she wince when I hugged her? Or was I just imagining things.
We find a café where the lights are warm and the smell of fresh coffee settles my nerves. We choose a corner booth away from the windows. Only then do I notice the man who followed her in. Early thirties, neat beard, wary eyes that never stop scanning the room.
Julianne hooks her arm through his. “This is Luka,” she says, voice firm. “My boyfriend. The one I left with.”
He gives me a quick nod, protective, not unfriendly. I nod back, trying to keep my surprise from showing.
I turn to my sister. “I am sorry I didn’t meet you sooner. Dante and his family have people looking for you. Dad does too. I didn’t want to drag you into their mess.”
She squeezes my hand. “I know. I almost came to the estate, but Luka convinced me it was safer to wait. We’ve been moving around, trying to stay off their radar.”
She lowers her gaze, guilt flashing across her face. “I couldn’t do it, Adi. I knew what that marriage meant. Luka helped me leave before it was too late.”
I take a steady breath. “They’re furious because your disappearance embarrassed them. They want you back only to prove they still control everything.”
Her voice cracks. “I was afraid you would hate me for leaving you behind.”
“Never,” I say. “I only cared about your safety.”
Her fingers tremble against her mug. “What is it like,” she asks, voice barely above a whisper, “living with that monster?” She shudders, as if the word itself chills her. “I can’t even imagine. The rumors I’ve heard about him—”
“He’s absolutely brutal,” Luka cuts in. “People are afraid to say his name in the wrong place.”
Their words land like stones. In my mind, I see the moment in the garden. The bright afternoon sun, Dante raising the pistol, the single shot that sent a man crumpling into the grass. There was no hesitation in him, no shock afterward.
Then I see Dante pressing me against the shower wall, lips on my throat, body hot and insistent. The contrast makes my stomach twist.
I flinch, and Julianne notices. Her eyes soften with sympathy. “Adi,” she whispers, reaching for my hand, “you don’t have to pretend. If he hurts you—”
“He hasn’t,” I say, maybe too quickly. The memory of the dead man returns. Maksim said he had betrayed Dante, but that doesn’t excuse his actions.
He killed a man that day and barely blinked. And yet when he touches me, my body answers before my mind can catch up. Heat coils low in my belly at the memory and I hate myself for it. A flush crawls up my neck.
What is wrong with me? Why do I want a man who can snap a neck without blinking? Why does my pulse race when he walks into a room, even after he’s told me he will never love me? I cling to the edge of the table, trying to steady my breath.
Julianne watches me, worry etched on her face. “You don’t have to keep defending him,” she says softly.
I shake my head, tears burning behind my eyes.
“I’m not defending him. I just…I can’t explain it.
” I feel the weight of Dante’s gaze even when he isn’t here, the heat of his hands, the chill of his distance.
He can be ice and fire in the same breath, and I’m caught somewhere in between, wanting and hating that I want.
Luka’s expression turns wary. “If you need to get out, we can help.”
Get out. The words reverberate. I picture the apartment, the gulf in the bed, the files Dante keeps locked away. I picture his laugh when I rile him, the softness in his eyes that appears for a heartbeat before he shutters it away. The monster and the man, tangled so tightly I can’t see the seams.
I nod, though the promise scares me as much as it comforts. I realize my heart beats harder at the thought of leaving him than at staying. That truth shames me, but it’s the truth all the same.
Julianne’s fingers lace through mine as we sit in the quiet booth, the café lights throwing soft reflections across the table. I take a steady breath, trying to ease her into the truth.
“Jules,” I start, voice barely above a whisper, “there’s something you need to know about Anya.”
Her eyes search mine, worry rising. “You found something?”
I nod. “A friend on the inside gave me a call. They recovered a body near the docks. The detectives confirmed it was Anya.”
At first the words don’t seem to register. She blinks, then covers her mouth, tears filling her eyes. “No. Adi, say you’re wrong. She was just missing.”
I hold her tighter. “I wish I were wrong. The police are certain. They think her disappearance is connected to Portello, the last place she was seen.”
Julianne breaks. She sobs into her hands, shaking her head over and over. “She never belonged in those places. She went that night only because I dragged her. Maksim had VIP passes. She kept saying she felt out of place.” Her voice cracks. “She was a church girl. I should have listened.”
Luka slides closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “You did not make this happen,” he says firmly. “The man or men who hurt her carry that blame.”
Julianne buries her face in his chest. “I took her there, Luka. I thought it would be fun.”
I stroke her back, heart aching. “It’s not your fault. The person who took her made that choice, not you.”
She lifts her head, wiping her cheeks. “Are they looking for who did it?”
“They will, but the case is complicated,” I say. “And she may not be the only one. There are other girls who vanished the same way. One is Samie—another name tied to the club.”
Julianne’s eyes widen. “Samie? I remember seeing her once.”
“Well, I spoke to her boyfriend—Mik didn’t know much either.”
She turns to Luka. “Isn’t Mik a friend of yours?”
Luka lets out a slow breath. “We knew each other. Nothing close.”
I glance at him. “You knew Samie personally?”
He shakes his head, gaze sliding away. “Only met her at the club.”
Suspicion tugs at me, but my phone buzzes before I can dig deeper.
A message from Bella: Oleg is awake. You need to get back.
I swallow my questions for now. “Jules, I have to go.”
“Adi, I’m scared for you. Dante isn’t someone to be messed with. Are you sure it’s right for you to continue your investigation?”
I sigh. “I have no choice. I can’t betray myself and everything I stand for.”
Luka turns to me. “Your husband’s business partner Remik now runs Portello. Trouble started when he showed up.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve heard rumors of another girl that went missing a few months ago, I think her name was Yuri,” he says.
I stand up. “I’ll look into it, but I really have to go before my security gets suspicious.”
Julianne gives me a wry smile. “I don’t miss that part of my life anymore.”
I hurry through the mall, ducking past closing shops and teenage couples who wander like they have nowhere else to be. When I reach the escalator, I smooth my hair, pinch my cheeks for color, and stride up toward the theater lobby as though I never left.
Oleg is planted outside the auditorium doors like a very large, very annoyed ficus. The second he spots me, his thick brows knit together. “Where did you go?” he rumbles.
I flash what I hope is an innocent smile. “Ladies’ emergency.”
He narrows his eyes. “You were gone a long time.”
I tilt my head, lowering my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Oleg, trust me. When a woman says she had a ladies’ emergency, you do not want the details. There were—supplies involved. And…tactical maneuvers.”
His face goes a shade paler. “Tactical maneuvers?”
“Very tactical.” I widen my eyes for emphasis. “Let’s just say restocking was critical to the mission, and the first restroom was out of inventory.”
Oleg clears his throat, suddenly fascinated by the movie posters. “Understood. Next time text.”
I nod, grateful he didn’t ask about the mystery shopping bag tucked inside my purse. “Deal. Now, shall we?”
He pushes open the door, still looking slightly traumatized, and waves me ahead. Bella catches my eye from our row, mouthing, “Supplies?” I shrug and raise an eyebrow, and she nearly chokes on her soda trying not to laugh.
Mission accomplished. For now.
Bella’s building glows soft yellow in the streetlights.
After quick good-nights she disappears inside, leaving Oleg and me alone in the car.
The ride across the city is quiet, only the hum of traffic filling the space between us.
I try not to think about the alley or about Luka’s guarded answers, but the questions circle anyway.
When the elevator doors open on the penthouse floor I hear voices drifting down the hallway. Dante and Liam. I slow my steps, Oleg hanging back as he fishes for his phone.
“…I don’t love her. Drop it,” Dante is saying.
I push the front door open just enough to slip inside. Their conversation cuts off. I step out of my shoes, keep my head down, and move straight to the hall that leads to my room.
The mirror above the dresser catches me in a slice of light.
I stare at the reflection, hair flattened from the wind, eyes still rimmed with worry, the plain sweater that never quite fits right.
I think of the women who glide through Dante’s world, all flawless confidence and polished edges.
I trace my own features, seeing only the things that never measure up.
I tug the sweater off, fold it once, then let it drop on the chair. The room feels too silent. Too bright. In the mirror, I press a hand to my cheek, willing the sting behind my eyes to fade.
Why do I keep wanting more from him? Why does it matter that he can’t love me?
I touch my lips, remembering how easily he can make me forget everything but his hands, his voice.
Heat flares, quickly followed by shame. I wrap my arms around myself and turn away from the mirror, wishing I could step out of my own skin, wishing I could forget the sound of his voice saying those words.
A wave of dizziness hits so quickly I have to steady myself against the dresser. The room tilts, narrow and bright. A sour rush climbs the back of my throat.
I sprint to the bathroom, knees hitting tile as I barely make it to the toilet. The nausea surges and I vomit, sharp and painful. When it passes I sit back on the cold floor, breathing through my mouth, forehead damp with sweat.
Another cramp rolls through my stomach. I grip the edge of the sink, pull myself up, and run cool water over my wrists until the trembling eases. My reflection in the mirror is pale, eyes too wide.
I rinse my mouth and grip the sink with both hands, the porcelain cool beneath my fingers. The dizziness lingers in the edges of my vision. I force myself to think.
When was my last period?
I trace back through the weeks. The estate. The move to the penthouse. The night in the library. I count the days again. Four weeks, five, almost six. I shake my head as if the numbers might rearrange themselves, but the math stays the same.
Almost six weeks. I am late.
My phone rings, breaking through the heavy silence. I answer without checking the screen, my voice thin. “Hello?”
“Adriana, it’s Alex.” His tone is all business, but I can hear the worry underneath. “I did what you asked. I pulled up everything I could on the missing girls. You were right. It’s not random—it’s a pattern. Someone is targeting them.”
I sit down on the edge of the bed, the phone pressed tight to my ear. “You’re sure?”
“I cross-checked old police files and social posts. There are two more girls—Eli?ka Marek and Kayla Young. Both went missing in the last three months. Not a word in the news, but I found that both girls tagged Portello in their stories at least three times in the last month.”
I press a hand to my belly, still numb from the test result. “You can tie them to the club for sure?”
“Not fully. I can place them there on the right nights, but I can’t prove they left with the same person. Yet.”
“Send me everything,” I breathe. The bathroom tiles blur. “I’ll keep digging.”
“Adriana,” he warns, “this is bigger than a missing-persons piece. Whoever is doing this knows how to hide in plain sight. Be careful.”
“I will,” I say, though I don’t believe it.
I end the call and the room tilts. My pulse rages in my ears.
Deep down, I already know what Alex’s data means.
I’ve seen the pattern forming for weeks, felt it tightening around me every time another girl’s face appeared in my notes.
I just didn’t want to believe it. Believing means facing the fact that someone—someone with power, someone who moves easily through the same velvet-rope rooms I’ve stood in—has been hunting women like Anya. Like Samie. Like me, if I keep pushing.
I press a hand to my abdomen. There’s life inside me now, fragile and new, and still I can’t let go of the story. I wish the truth were simpler, that the killer were a ghost I could outrun, but he isn’t. He’s flesh and blood, hiding right in front of us.
My stomach clenches, though this time it’s not nausea. It’s the weight of a single, undeniable possibility. I drop onto the closed lid of the toilet, one palm pressed flat to my abdomen as if I could feel an answer there.
A baby. Dante’s child.
I picture his face, hard and careful, the words he just told Liam still ringing in my ears. I don’t love her.
I breathe through the ache in my chest, trying to focus. I need confirmation. A test. A plan. Behind the bathroom door, the apartment is quiet, but the silence feels fragile, ready to crack.
I turn off the light and step back into my room, the realization following me like a shadow I can’t escape.