The plane touched down in Rome just after midnight.

Storms rolled in over the city, thunder cracking in the distance like a warning shot.

Serena stood beside Luciano as the door opened, both dressed in black—shadows wrapped in human skin.

No words.

Just tension.

And the unspoken truth:
They were stepping into his past…
Together.

Lorenzo’s empire didn’t sleep.

Not when it owned half the underground of Italy.

Serena watched from a safehouse window as guards moved like ghosts across rooftops and alleyways. She clutched her notebook—now filled with more than stories.

Now, it held names. Routes. Blueprints. Lies.

“Your friend,” Luciano said quietly, eyes never leaving the window. “The hacker. You trust them?”

“I did,” Serena said. Then paused. “But now I’m not so sure.”

Luciano’s brows furrowed.

“He sent something weird last night,” she added. “Coordinates. But they didn’t lead to Lorenzo…”

She pulled out her phone.

“They led to my old apartment. The one I faked my death in.”

Luciano went still. “You think he gave away your secret?”

“I think,” Serena whispered, “he sold it.”

The confrontation came quicker than expected.

A hidden room beneath a wine cellar.

Lorenzo was waiting, calm and cruel, sipping red like it was holy.

“Well, well,” he murmured, eyes landing on Serena. “So this is the girl who turned the devil soft.”

Luciano’s gun was already in hand.

But Lorenzo smiled, unbothered.

“You shouldn’t have brought her here, brother. You brought your weakness to my doorstep.”

Serena stepped forward. “I’m not his weakness.”

Lorenzo’s smirk deepened. “No. You’re mine.”

Luciano froze.

“What?”

Lorenzo stood.

“I read her stories. Before you even touched her. Before you made her yours. Her mind—her anger—her words—they reminded me of someone I lost.”

Serena’s heart pounded.

“What are you saying?”

Lorenzo’s eyes darkened.

“You were meant to be my revenge. And instead, you became his salvation. That… was not the ending I wrote.”

Suddenly, Serena understood.

It had never just been about Luciano.

It had been about her.

And she was done being a pawn.

Later, back in the safehouse, Serena’s hands trembled.

Luciano wrapped his coat around her, silent.

“We can’t trust anyone,” she whispered.

“I don’t,” he said. “I only trust you.”

She leaned into him, breathing in his scent.

“This story is getting darker.”

Luciano’s voice was rough in her ear.

“Then let’s write it in blood.”