Chapter 4

Lucien Valenti’s POV

There are only two kinds of people who walk into my territory uninvited.

The desperation. 

And the dead.

"Stand down," I said, low and calm, though every muscle in my body was ready to break something.

My guards didn’t move.

"I said stand down."

They hesitated, but they obeyed.

The man didn’t shake. He stood in the middle of the courtyard like he owned it, hood low, mask half-shadowing his face, neck bare except for the noticeable black rose tattoo.

Alessia stood beside me, gun still in her hand. I saw her grip tighten.

"You’re not real," she said.

The man chuckled. "Aren’t I?"

"Rafael," she whispered.

He nodded. "You look like him. Enzo. In the eyes."

My voice cut in. "How the hell are you alive?"

He turned to me slowly. "You’re the one who’s supposed to be good at answers, Valenti. I thought you’d figured it out by now."

"You faked your death."

"Not exactly. Someone else tried to give me one."

"Your boss," I said. "Her father."

Rafael’s smile faded.

"He thought he could erase me. Bury me before I start asking the wrong questions. He underestimated my tolerance for pain."

Alessia stepped forward. "What questions?"

He looked at her, softer now. "The kind your brother died for."

She didn’t blink. "Then why leave me a note instead of telling me this in person?"

"Because I needed to know if you still swore allegiance to him." He tilted his head toward me. "Or if the Valenti crown had changed your loyalty."

"I didn’t choose this marriage," she snapped.

"But you stayed."

"You don't know the first thing about me."

Rafael’s gaze sharpened. "I know what your father is. I know what Enzo found. And I know you're the only one left who can finish what he started."

I stepped between them. "If you’re here to drag her into a suicide mission, it ends now."

Rafael looked at me like I was made of glass. "This isn’t your war, Lucien."

"The second you stepped onto my estate, it became mine."

"You think you're protecting her?"

"I'm protecting what’s mine."

"She’s not yours," Rafael said.

Alessia spoke before I could. "I'm not anyone’s. But I am going to get the truth."

He studied her. "Then come with me."

"No," I said instantly.

"You don’t get to decide that," Rafael shot back.

"I do if it puts my wife in danger."

Alessia looked between us. "You’re both forgetting something."

We both turned to her.

"I'm not asking for permission."

"Alessia," I warned.

She looked at Rafael. "Where would we go?"

"There’s a safe house. Ten minutes from here. Documents. Files. Evidence your brother collected."

"Show me."

I stepped forward, blocking her path. "You’re not going anywhere alone."

"Then come with me."

I stared at her.

"You trust him now?" I asked.

"No," she said. "But I trust what Enzo left behind. And if Rafael was close to him, he’s the only threat we’ve got."

I turned to Rafael. "If you so much as go behind me I’ll put a bullet in your head."

"Fair."

The ride was silent. Alessia sat in the back with Rafael, her fingers white-knuckled on her thighs. I drove, one eye on the road, the other on the rearview.

The safe house was exactly that. Tucked behind an old mechanic’s shop, shielded by surveillance blockers and old-world charm. Inside was clean, sparse, and stocked.

Rafael walked us to a locked cabinet, pressed his thumb to a scanner, and pulled out a stack of folders so thick it looked like a book with a broken spine.

He set it on the table.

"Your brother started digging two years before he died," he said. "He found a shell company in Cyprus. At first, he thought it was money laundering. But the transactions didn’t make sense."

Alessia opened the top folder. Bank statements, shipping manifests, encrypted email prints.

Rafael continued, "They weren’t moving money. They were moving people."

She looked up sharply. "Trafficking?"

"Not in the usual way. High-value targets. Scientists. Engineers. Anyone who refused to work with the Morettis, or posed a threat to them. They’d vanish."

I stepped closer. "Vanish where?"

"Some kind of black site. Enzo traced one lead to southern Italy. A medical facility with no listed owners, no employees on record, and more armed security than a weapons vault."

"That’s where he went?" I asked.

Rafael nodded. "He got too close. The next week, he was dead."

Alessia whispered, "And my father gave me his watch. Like it was a parting gift."

Rafael placed a small flash drive on the table. "There’s more. Video logs. Audio files. Names. Faces. He wanted to go public. Said it was time."

"Why didn’t you stop him?" Alessia asked.

"I tried. But he didn’t trust anyone by then. Not even me."

"And now you want me to pick up where he left off."

"You’re the last Moretti who might still have a conscience."

I grabbed the flash drive. "We’ll analyze this. But if you’re lying, I’ll bury you myself."

"I believe you."

Alessia stood. "I want to see the facility."

"No," I said.

"Lucien—"

"No. We don’t have enough. We need time. A plan."

She looked at Rafael. "Coordinates?"

He brought a slip of paper from his pocket and handed it to her.

I took it before she could.

"You go anywhere near this place without backup, you’re dead."

"Then come with me."

I stared at her. "This isn’t a game."

"I’m not playing."

Rafael exhaled. "It’s not guarded all the time. There’s a window. Tomorrow night. Midnight. Shift change. That’s your shot."

"I’ll assemble a team," I said.

"No team," Rafael said. "Small. Quiet. You two. Me. That’s it."

I didn’t like it. But I liked the idea of her going alone even less.

"Fine," I said.

Alessia looked at me. "Will we move tomorrow?"

I nodded.

Rafael looked between us. "You two make a hell of a match."

Neither of us replied.

We got back to the estate after dark. I left her outside her door and turned to head to my wing.

"Lucien."

I stopped.

She stepped closer. "Why didn’t you shoot him on sight?"

"Because I saw something in your face when you recognized him."

"And what was that?"

"Hope."

She didn’t answer.

"Get some rest," I said. "Tomorrow, we break open hell."

I started to walk away when I heard her voice. 

"My father didn’t just lie to me," she said.

I turned.

"He turned me into a weapon. Against my own brother. Against truth."

"And now?"

She looked at me. Her eyes weren’t soft. They were steel.

"Now I aim it back at him."

I almost smiled. Almost.

But then my phone buzzed.

Unknown number. One message. No text. Just a video.

I played it.

My blood turned to ice.

It was footage. Of my younger sister. Tied to a chair. Crying.

And a voice I hadn’t heard in years said clearly into the mic:

"I hear you’ve been digging, Lucien. Time to bury what you love.”