Chapter 24
POV: Amanda
“Lucky?” one of them scoffed, stepping forward. “No one walks away from the De Luccas on luck. So tell me—what the fuck are you doing here? And how did you manage to screw up an operation that’s taken years to build?”
The words hit like knives. My fists curled. I wanted to scream, to claw my own skin off, to drown in the weight of it. Because I didn’t know what I was doing here. Not really.
All I knew was Adrian was in danger. And if I didn’t act, they would devour him from the inside out. The De Lacquas, the rotten system, even these men who wore badges—they would bleed him dry.
And I couldn’t let that happen. Not after everything. Not to him.
“I’m not here for your questions,” I snapped, sharper than I meant. My voice cracked halfway, betraying the storm clawing at my chest. “I’m here because you need to know what’s happening before you walk straight into something you can’t control.”
Clifford’s gaze cut through me, hard, deliberate. “Careful, Amanda. You’re not the one giving orders anymore.”
I swallowed the burn behind my eyes, forced myself not to break. “Then at least listen. Because the De Luccas aren’t the ones you should be watching tonight. It’s the De Lacquas. They’ve been targeting them for months. I took a bullet because of them.”
“And why should we care about some mafia domestic fight?” the FBI agent asked coldly. “They could bleed each other dry for all I care. Fewer hands for us to cuff.”
The thought of Adrian bleeding made red fill my vision. I wanted to hit him, to shut his mouth with my fists, to silence the casual cruelty.
The room fell into a silence heavy enough to crush bone.
Every pair of eyes drilled into me—suspicion, judgment, disbelief.
Wondering why I was still alive. Why I wasn’t already in a shallow grave.
Why I was standing here in a silver dress, talking about the De Lacquas instead of bringing them Adrian’s head on a platter.
Because I wasn’t a cop anymore.
I wasn’t an agent.
I was just a woman in love with the wrong man. A woman ready to torch her career, her life, her name to protect him.
And for the first time, I didn’t care who knew it.
“You think I slipped up,” I said, voice cutting through the room like steel.
“That I exposed myself by mistake. That I was careless.”
I let a bitter, sharp smirk curl across my lips.
“But no. They found me because my cover wasn’t enough. Not because I failed. Not because I made a mistake. They discovered me because they were good. Not my fault. Not yet.”
The room froze for a beat. The agents blinked, taken aback by my audacity. Good. Let them feel it—the sting, the defiance. They wanted to control the story, to claim I had slipped. I let them know: I hadn’t. I was still sharp. Still in control. Even here. Even now.
Then the other agent spoke, calm, too calm.
“You know, Whitmore,” the agent said with a smirk that made me want to rip his throat out, “we’ve already got informants. We’ve got an operation—White Rose. Feeding us everything we need. Soon we’ll have the De Luccas cornered from every side. They’ll crumble.
And if the other families want to spill blood, fine. Saves us the trouble.”
White Rose.
The name hit me like a punch to the chest.
Rosa Bianca.
The Mancinis.
I froze. The world narrowed to the pieces clicking together in my head. The family Adrian trusted. The ones smiling like allies. Like friends. The ones he’d confided in.
They weren’t helping.
They weren’t protecting.
They were orchestrating a trap.
Every beat slowed. I could hear the blood pounding in my ears. Every instinct in me screamed Adrian, Adrian, Adrian.
I clenched my fists, sharp nails biting into my palms. I wasn’t just furious. I was alive with it, furious and terrified, knowing that every smile, every plan, every whispered promise could have been a lie.
And I wouldn’t let him face it blind.
I fumbled at my locker, hands shaking, heart hammering against my ribs. Every thought spiraled, every scenario ending with Adrian walking into a trap I couldn’t stop. My fingers closed around my gun—then another—and I let out a shaky breath, trying to focus, trying to steady myself.
“You’re not going to do what I think you’re going to do, are you?” Clifford’s voice cut through the chaos of my mind. He appeared behind me, eyes narrowed, heavy with suspicion and worry.
I turned, gripping the guns tighter. “I have to go after him,” I said, voice taut. “They’re setting a trap. I can’t… I can’t just wait.”
“You’re not running into a mafia situation on your own, Amanda,” he said, stepping closer. His tone was firm, protective.
“It’s more complicated than that,” I snapped, whirling around to face him. “I know we’re tracking the De Luccas—but they’re not the ones you should be worried about. Not this time.”
He frowned, disbelief flashing across his face. “And you’re sure of this? Because it sounds like—”
“I’ve been working with you for years,” I said, cutting him off, my voice sharper, almost pleading. “And you worked with my father for decades. I know what he taught you about judgment, about trust. I’m asking you—no, I’m telling you—I need to do this. Let me go.”
He stared at me, the weight of my words sinking in. For a long moment, silence hung between us, tense and suffocating. Then he muttered, almost under his breath, “I'm going to regret this…”
With a slow, deliberate movement, he handed me two more guns and a file thick with information about the mission. “Here. Use this. God help you,” he murmured.
I didn’t hesitate. I swallowed, gripping the weapons, feeling the weight of the file in my hands. My body moved on autopilot. Every step, every breath, taking me closer to him, to the danger, to the only thing I had left that mattered.
I froze in the hallway outside my locker, heart hammering like it wanted to break free from my chest. The weight of what I was about to do pressed down on me, heavy and suffocating. I knew every step I took from here would risk my career, maybe my life.
“You know what you’re doing,” Clifford’s voice murmured behind me, low, almost weary. “If you go… don’t expect a job to be waiting when you come back.”
I swallowed hard, the words like knives slicing through me. My chest tightened. I could feel the gravity of every choice I’d ever made crashing down. But then I remembered Adrian. His brown eyes, the raw honesty in them, the way he’d trusted me, loved me… and everything else faded into shadows.
I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding, and for a fraction of a second, I laughed—sharp, bitter, defiant. “Then I’ll just make sure I have a new one when I get back,” I whispered, almost to myself. My hands tightened on the guns, my fingers brushing over the edge of the file.
Walking to my car, every step echoed in my head, each one louder than the last. Doubt clawed at me, fear flickered like fire along my nerves—but so did purpose. I was going after Adrian. I had to.
When I slid into the driver’s seat, the harsh glow of the streetlights cast shadows across my face. I caught my reflection in the rearview mirror. My makeup was streaked, hair mussed from the panic and rush. The blue eyes staring back at me felt like someone else’s.
I ripped a hand across my face, trying to shake off the fatigue and the fear, and then I opened the file Clifford had given me.
Pages of evidence, notes, surveillance photos.
The Mancinis weren’t helping Adrian—they were trying to bleed him dry.
They’d traced his money flows through the boutique, the laundries, even Bella’s clothing store.
They had details on the dinners, the casinos, the nightclubs.
Every pattern of his empire meticulously documented.
Every note, every photo, every name could be weaponized. I could use this to protect him. To warn him. To… save him.
My chest ached, my pulse was a drum in my ears, but clarity washed over me. I wasn’t just a woman in a silver dress anymore. I was the only chance he had to walk into that room alive, the one person who could fight in the shadows for him.
I started the engine, and the hum of the car felt like a heartbeat, steadying me. I checked my reflection again, blue eyes burning, and nodded. I was ready. Terrified, furious, aching—but ready.
Tonight, I would face the darkness with him. And I would do whatever it took.