The moment Alessio's arms wrapped around me, I felt the world tilt back on its axis. The fear, the pain, the suffocating darkness—it all began to fade, replaced by the fierce pulse of his presence. His scent—warm, dangerous, and intoxicating—was the anchor I'd been desperate for in the storm that had swallowed me whole.
"I'm here," he murmured into my hair, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through me. "I've got you."
I clung to him like my life depended on it. Because in that moment, it did.
⸻
The warehouse faded away as he carried me through the foggy dawn. Every step we took felt like a victory snatched from the jaws of oblivion, but my mind raced with the weight of Riccardo's words. The secrets he'd whispered—dark truths about my past that had shattered the fragile bubble I'd lived inside.
"My mother…" I whispered shakily, finally pulling back to meet his eyes. They were fierce and filled with unspoken questions, but also the promise of protection. "He said she wasn't killed by Alessio's father. He said my father—Enzo Romano—was involved. That she was trying to take down the Syndicate from the inside, and it cost her everything."
Alessio's jaw clenched, muscles tightening as his expression darkened. "I knew there was more to Isabelle's death than I was told. I just never imagined…" His voice faltered. "We need to find out what really happened."
I nodded, but the doubt gnawed at me. The man I loved was tangled in a web I didn't fully understand, and I was caught in the middle of a legacy far darker than I'd ever imagined.
⸻
Back at the estate, Alessio refused to let me out of his sight. His protective nature was suffocating and intoxicating all at once. The fire in his eyes when he looked at me made it clear that I was his—no one else's. And yet, beneath the possessive exterior, I glimpsed a tenderness that terrified me as much as it comforted me.
"You'll be safe here," he promised, leading me into the room he had prepared for me. It was surprisingly warm—soft linens, candles flickering with gentle light, and the faint scent of jasmine. A sanctuary built just for me.
But as much as I wanted to believe I was safe, my heart whispered warnings I couldn't ignore.
⸻
That night, Alessio and I sat in the dim glow of the study. He poured over old files—documents that had been hidden away in his father's vault, fragments of a story that had been buried in lies and bloodshed.
"I found this," he said, handing me a faded photograph. It was Isabelle Romano—my mother—standing beside a man I didn't recognize. His face was obscured by shadow, but his posture was familiar, commanding.
"Who is he?" I asked, tracing the outline with trembling fingers.
"Someone your mother trusted," Alessio said softly. "Someone who might have been the reason she fell."
The pieces began to click together—Isabelle's death, Enzo's disappearance, Riccardo's betrayal—all threads of a tapestry woven with deceit.
⸻
Days passed, and with every secret uncovered, the danger around us grew thicker. Alessio's enemies sensed weakness and circled like vultures, ready to strike. But no one dared touch me—not while Alessio's wrath was burning hot and unrelenting.
One evening, as the rain hammered against the windows, Alessio pulled me close. His fingers tangled in my hair, and his lips brushed my forehead.
"I don't care who you are or where you come from," he said fiercely. "You're mine. And I'll kill anyone who tries to take you from me."
I wanted to believe him. To believe in us. But the truth was a shadow hanging over our heads—a promise that the past was never far behind.
⸻
That night, as I lay in Alessio's arms, I knew the war wasn't over. It had only just begun. And with every heartbeat, I was caught between the man I loved and the legacy I was born into—a legacy that threatened to destroy us both.