The Devil’s Soloist.

The Other Brother.

Alice's Point of View

His office was cloaked in thick, uncomfortable silence. It was the kind of silence that crept under your skin and settled there, buzzing.

While I sat there, seething, he worked casually on his laptop like I wasn't even in the room.

My glare could have burned holes through him, but he didn't so much as flinch.

The fury inside me boiled, coiling like a storm beneath my skin.

I looked away, blinking back the hot sting in my eyes, and forcing my gaze to the polished floor tiles, but the fury in my chest only swelled.

With a sharp hiss, I shoved my chair back. The screech of wood against tile echoed across the room, but he didn't even glance up.

I stood up, slowly, purposefully—trying to make a point. That, at least, got his attention.

"Where do you think you're going?" He asked, his voice low and unbothered.

I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt.

"I have nothing I'm doing here other than breathing your air, so I'm leaving." I turned my back to him.

"Alice. Sit down." The command was soft, but the threat beneath it sent a shiver down my spine.

My nose flared, and I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting the urge to scream.

Then, with my pride biting into my gut like broken glass, I sat. Again. Quietly.

The chair groaned beneath me, but the louder noise was the scream trapped inside my chest.

My eyes still shot daggers at him, though. Not that he cared. He didn't even glance my way.

"If you leave, you don't have anything you're going to do," he muttered, eyes still on his screen. "I'm a sight, so enjoy the view."

The arrogance in his voice made my stomach twist.

I scoffed, loud and bitter. "Don't flatter yourself, Tiberio."

He didn't respond—just glared at me once with those hollow eyes, then returned to typing.

A sharp knock shattered the tension, and I flinched, my nerves already frayed.

Tiberio looked up, his expression hardening with a cold, effortless authority. He pressed a button on his desk, and the heavy oak door slid open with a low mechanical hum.

Instinctively, I turned—curious to see who had the audacity to interrupt the devil in his lair.

A man stood in the doorway, composed and unreadable.

He was handsome—dangerously so, but in a quieter, more controlled way than Tiberio.

Dressed in a sleek black suit, he moved with confidence, the kind that came from knowing exactly what he was capable of.

Definitely Tiberio's right-hand man, and just as dangerous, only better at hiding it.

Our eyes met. Just for a second. His gaze was unreadable, but it made something flip in my stomach.

Immediately, I looked away.

He cleared his throat. "Don. Emily e Don Silas sono qui."

(Don. Emily and Don Silas are here.)

I caught the glance he shared with Tiberio, a fleeting look that carried weight, and my brows furrowed.

What were they saying without words? My presence seemed to shift something in the air, and I wondered what secrets they were hiding.

Were they planning my fate?

My stomach twisted at the thought.

Tiberio nodded, his expression unreadable, and flicked his fingers in a dismissive gesture.

"We'll be there, Reid." His tone was clipped.

Reid nodded, but before he turned to leave, his gray eyes flicked to me again, lingering for a fraction of a second.

There was no warmth there, just a silent assessment that left me unsettled. Then he was gone, the door sliding shut behind him.

I turned back to Tiberio, my anger flaring anew.

"It's rude to speak a foreign language in front of someone who doesn't understand it," I snapped, leaning forward.

"Let me guess—you and your lackey were discussing the best way to kill me?"

He rose from his chair without a word, sliding his phone into his pocket.

My pulse kicked up, and my body stiffened even before he moved.

"Let's go," he ordered simply, reaching for me.

"What the.....hey!" I yelped as his fingers closed around my wrist, yanking me to my feet.

"Where are we going? You're hurting me!"

I twisted against his grip, but it was like being held by steel cables. His grip didn't budge.

"Let. Me. Go!" I snapped, digging my heels into the marble floor.

He didn't even glance at me. Just kept dragging me down the hall like I weighed nothing.

We passed a series of expensive paintings and sculptures, the echo of our footsteps bouncing off the walls.

The corridor felt endless, like a runway to something inevitable.

I stumbled, my bare feet slipping on the cool marble, my heart pounding as I fought to break free.

His cologne enveloped me, that maddening mix of grapes and whiskey, and I hated how it made my head spin, even now.

As we neared the living room, voices drifted through the air, one of them a deep, impatient rumble that sent a chill down my spine.

It was familiar, too close to Tiberio's commanding timbre, but rougher, less controlled.

My steps faltered, realization hitting me like a punch.

My blood turned cold.

That's his brother.

****

As we reached the foot of the staircase, the air shifted, and eyes turned toward us.

Men in sleek black suits lined the opulent living room, their sunglasses hiding their gazes but not the menace that radiated from their rigid postures.

A nurse stood near the far wall, her hands clutching a medical bag so tightly her knuckles whitened.

Who was she here for? My mind raced, conjuring images of blood and secrets hidden in this mansion.

My gaze swept the room, then locked onto a pair of dark gray eyes, sharp and magnetic.

He looked familiar. Too familiar.

My chest constricted as the memory struck like lightning.

"I want you to be my private singer, amore."

How had I missed it? The resemblance was striking—high cheekbones, a strong jaw, the same dangerous allure as Tiberio, but softer, more controlled.

I hissed out a breath, my instinct screaming to get away. I turned on my heel, but Tiberio's grip clamped down on my wrist, pulling me back without a word.

He turned, his brown-blue eyes narrowing into a glare that sliced through me.

"Where do you think you're going?" He growled, his voice low and laced with an impending storm.

I swallowed hard, my throat tight with pain.

Before I could answer—or even breathe, Tiberio yanked me closer, pulling me down the final steps until we stood before Silas.

My chest ached, a storm of rage and despair swirling inside me, but I refused to look at him or his brother, unwilling to give them the satisfaction of my gaze.

"È più bella di quanto non fosse ieri sera," Silas broke the tension, his voice smooth and teasing, the Italian rolling off his tongue like a caress.

(She's more beautiful than she was last night.)

Whatever he said made Tiberio's grip on my wrist tightened, his fingers digging into my skin until I bit back a wince.

"Non andiamo avanti ora, fratello," he snapped, his tone sharp and possessive.

(Let's not get ahead of ourselves, brother.)

"Lei è qui solo perché affermi che può aiutarti con la tua condizione."

(She's only here because you claim she can help with your condition.)

I stole a glance at Silas, catching the subtle clench of his jaw, the flicker of defiance in his gray eyes.

What had they discussed? The air between them crackled, a silent battle of wills unfolding in their locked gazes.

The men in suits and the nurse kept their heads down, their silence thick and oppressive as if they knew better than to interfere in this clash of titans.

I pushed against Tiberio's hold, desperate to break free, but it was like fighting a steel cage—his strength was unyielding, his control absolute.

He turned to me, his gaze hollow yet razor-sharp, and my heart leaped into my throat, pounding so fiercely I thought it might burst.

"Alice," he called, his voice low and forced, as if the introduction pained him. "This is Silas, my brother."

He turned to Silas, his tone curt. "Alice."

Silas's lips curved into a subtle smirk, his gray eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and something darker.

He extended his hand towards me.

"Pleasure to meet you, Alice," his voice was warm but laced with a manipulative edge that set my nerves on edge.

I glared at his outstretched hand, heart thudding in my chest. Every instinct screamed at me to recoil, to spit in his face and run, but a flicker of logic kept me still.

I wasn't stupid. I can't afford to be at this point in my life.

He might be my only chance out of this prison. Or another devil in disguise.

I hesitated, then placed my hand in his.

His grip was tight. Too tight. And he didn't let go right away.

His thumb brushed lightly across the top of my hand before he finally released me.

My blood ran cold.

His eyes didn't move from mine. His smirk deepened, like he could hear the fear in my chest.

And for the first time since walking into this place, I wasn't sure who terrified me more: the monster holding my wrist... Or the one smiling like he already owned my soul.