Chapter Six
The tunnels beneath the city smelled of damp earth and blood.
Aria stumbled forward, her breath ragged in the cold air as Nico led her deeper into the maze of ancient catacombs beneath Palermo. Dim lights flickered against the stone walls, casting long, skeletal shadows. It wasn't the kind of place that offered safety—but it was far from the reach of Cesare Moretti and his army of eyes.
"You know this place?" she asked, clutching the stolen flash drive in her coat pocket.
Nico glanced back. "Used to be one of our escape routes. Before Cesare traded integrity for firepower."
"And now?" she pressed, her voice sharp with rising panic.
"Now it's a graveyard for secrets."
He stopped before a rusted metal door sealed with a biometric lock and pressed his thumb against the reader. A soft click echoed, and the door creaked open into a chamber lit by a dozen low-watt bulbs strung from exposed pipes.
Inside were three people—each as dangerous as the other.
The first was Leona Vescari, a woman in her late thirties with hair the color of dark wine, pulled into a sharp braid down her back. Her features were arrestingly elegant—high cheekbones, a pointed nose, and eyes the color of steel-cut glass. Leona had once been a financial strategist for the Moretti empire, but after a fallout with Cesare over embezzled war funds, she vanished—only to reemerge as a ghost in the criminal underworld. She now ran a rogue network of intelligence brokers called the Hollow Hand.
"Nico," she said, rising smoothly. "Didn't think you had the balls to show up here with her."
Aria bristled, but Nico raised a hand. "She's seen the file."
Leona's gaze moved to Aria, cool and assessing. "Then I suppose we've crossed the point of no return."
The second man in the room leaned against a weapons crate, twirling a combat knife between his fingers. Mateo Rocca. Tall, built like a panther, with close-cropped curls and skin the shade of midnight bronze. He was ex-military—dishonorably discharged for refusing an order that would've cost innocent lives. Since then, he'd become Nico's right hand—an enforcer who favored blades over bullets and silence over speeches.
"Your father has half the city hunting for you," he said to Aria, his voice a gravel-lined murmur. "The other half wants your head for daring to run."
"I didn't run," she snapped. "I woke up."
Mateo offered a ghost of a smile. "Then you're already stronger than most."
The third person didn't rise or speak. He was older—white hair in a precise military cut, one eye covered by a leather patch. Commander Silvano Drago was once the head of the Sicilian Mafia's covert operations. Now a fugitive. His reputation was whispered like a curse in both political and criminal circles. Drago was the strategist behind the failed Black Chamber uprising ten years ago—a man with enough buried secrets to burn every don in Italy.
His voice came low and deliberate. "If you want to survive, girl, you'll have to decide who you are without your father's shadow hanging over you."
"I already have," Aria said. "But I want to burn that shadow to the ground."
Nico exhaled slowly beside her. "Then we need a plan."
Leona crossed her arms. "You've got less than a week before the wedding contracts are activated. Once they're signed in the Church of San Maurizio, Aria belongs to Rizzo. Legally. Tactically. Ceremonially."
Aria's stomach turned. "What happens if I don't show?"
"Your father will make an example of you," Silvano said. "And Damiano… he might let him."
At that, something flickered in Nico's eyes—something dark.
"No," he said. "Damiano's playing his own game. He let her go."
Leona arched a brow. "You sure that wasn't part of the trap?"
"I don't think he's loyal to Cesare," Nico said. "But I don't trust him either."
Aria stayed silent. She hadn't told Nico what Damiano had whispered to her that night before everything exploded.
"This is only the beginning."
She didn't know whether it was a warning… or a promise.
Mateo stood and stretched. "We'll need access to the server vaults at the Moretti estate. If we can retrieve the original contract drafts and blood-sealed vows, we can nullify them before the ceremony. Without them, the wedding means nothing."
Leona nodded. "But we'll need someone on the inside."
A beat of silence stretched between them—until Aria straightened.
"I know someone."
They all turned to her.
"Her name is Elena Cortez," Aria said. "She was my mother's maid, and the only one in the house I ever trusted. She raised me when my mother died. She still works in the villa—and if anyone can get to the vault, it's her."
"Can she be trusted?" Silvano asked.
"She loved my mother more than her own life," Aria said. "That's all I need to know."
Mateo and Leona exchanged a look.
Nico stepped forward. "Then we set it in motion. I'll reach out to Elena and draw out the security blueprints."
"And what will I do?" Aria asked.
Drago's one good eye locked onto hers. "You'll do what your father never expected of you."
Aria lifted her chin. "What's that?"
"Become the weapon."