The Devil's Bride

Secrets and Lies

Serena POV

For several long seconds, neither of us moved.

My eyes remained fixed on the key resting in Damien's palm while my father's words echoed through my mind.

Find the key before anyone else does.

Yet somehow Damien already had it.

A hundred possibilities rushed through my head, and none of them were good. Had my father lied? Had someone intercepted whatever message he intended for me? Or had Damien known about the key all along?

The last possibility made my stomach twist.

Slowly, I looked up at him.

"Who gave this to you?"

"A courier."

His answer came too quickly.

"Who sent the courier?"

"I don't know."

I almost laughed.

Almost.

It was becoming his favorite phrase.

I don't know.

The man knew everything. He had probably known what he was going to wear three weeks from now. Yet suddenly, whenever my father's death came up, he knew nothing.

My grip tightened at my sides.

"Do you expect me to believe that?"

His expression remained unreadable.

"No."

At least he was honest.

The answer caught me off guard.

Most people would have argued. Most people would have tried to convince me.

Damien simply stood there.

As though he already knew I wouldn't trust him.

The silence stretched between us until he finally closed his fingers around the key.

"Your father and I had disagreements, Serena, but I didn't kill him."

"I didn't accuse you."

His eyebrow lifted slightly.

"Not out loud."

Heat rose to my face.

The worst part was that he wasn't wrong.

Ever since the chapel, suspicion had been growing inside me. It wasn't based on evidence. It wasn't even logical.

But every instinct I had was screaming that something wasn't right.

My father had died.

Damien had secrets.

And now he somehow possessed an item my father had specifically hidden.

The pieces didn't fit together.

"Then help me understand," I said quietly. "Because right now nothing makes sense."

For the first time, something softened in his expression.

Not much.

Just enough for me to notice.

"I wish I could."

The response sounded genuine.

That irritated me even more.

Before I could say anything else, his phone rang.

Damien glanced at the screen and frowned.

Without a word, he answered.

I couldn't hear the voice on the other end, but I saw the change in his posture almost immediately. His shoulders stiffened. His eyes darkened.

"How many?" he asked.

A pause.

His jaw clenched.

"When?"

Another pause.

Then he ended the call.

A knot formed in my stomach.

"What happened?"

For a moment, he didn't answer.

When he finally spoke, his voice was colder than before.

"Three of your father's captains were attacked tonight."

I stared at him.

"What?"

"They were leaving the wedding when someone ambushed their vehicles."

The room suddenly felt colder.

"Are they alive?"

"One is."

My heart sank.

This wasn't just an assassination anymore.

It was a purge.

Someone wasn't trying to kill Lorenzo Rossi.

Someone was trying to wipe out his entire organization.

The realization hit me hard.

Whoever was behind this had planned everything.

The wedding.

The attack.

The timing.

Nothing about it was random.

I turned away and walked toward the window.

Rain continued to pour outside, drumming softly against the glass.

For years, my father had seemed invincible.

Now he was dead.

His men were dying.

And the empire he'd built was beginning to crumble before his body was even buried.

The thought made my chest ache.

"What happens now?" I asked.

Damien moved beside me.

"The city watches."

I frowned.

"The city?"

"The Rossi family controlled half of Italy's underworld. Every rival family is watching to see what happens next."

I understood immediately.

Power hated a vacuum.

The moment weakness appeared, predators rushed in.

My father had spent decades building his empire.

Now everyone would be trying to claim a piece of it.

"What about my father's men?"

"Some will remain loyal."

"And the others?"

His silence answered the question.

Betrayal.

There would be plenty of that.

I closed my eyes briefly.

The more I learned, the more isolated I felt.

My father was gone.

I couldn't trust Damien.

I didn't know which of our allies were loyal.

And somewhere out there was the person responsible for all of this.

A person who was still free.

A knock interrupted my thoughts.

One of Damien's guards stepped inside.

"Boss."

"What is it?"

The guard hesitated.

His eyes flickered toward me.

For some reason, that immediately put me on edge.

"What?" Damien asked sharply.

"The survivor is awake."

The room went silent.

My pulse quickened.

The surviving captain.

The man who had survived the ambush.

"Does he know who attacked him?" Damien asked.

The guard nodded.

"That's what he claims."

Every muscle in my body tensed.

For the first time all night, I felt something stronger than grief.

Hope.

Finally.

An answer.

Damien noticed my expression immediately.

"No."

I blinked.

"What?"

"You're staying here."

Anger flared instantly.

"You can't be serious."

"I am."

"That man might know who murdered my father."

"And if he does, whoever attacked him may try again."

I took a step forward.

"I don't care."

His gaze locked onto mine.

"I do."

The words slipped out before he could stop them.

For a moment, neither of us moved.

Neither of us spoke.

Something strange passed between us.

Then Damien looked away first.

The moment vanished.

My heart gave an unexpected little stumble.

I hated that.

Almost as much as I hated him.

The guard cleared his throat awkwardly.

Damien straightened.

"We're leaving."

"I'm coming."

"No."

"Try stopping me."

For the first time since we'd met, a genuine smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

It disappeared almost immediately.

But I'd seen it.

And somehow that brief glimpse felt more dangerous than all his cold stares combined.

"Fine," he said.

I blinked.

"Fine?"

"Don't make me regret it."

A few minutes later, we were heading back into the storm.

Toward the only witness who might know who had killed my father.

What neither of us knew was that we were already too late.

Because somewhere across the city, a masked man stepped into a hospital room carrying a silenced pistol.

And the last surviving witness had less than five minutes left to live.