Ashes & Aftermath
1706 Words
The church burned.
Orange flames licked the night sky. Wood cracked. Glass exploded. Smoke choked Adriana’s lungs as she screamed Dante’s name.
Elena pulled her back from the riverbank. “We have to go, baby. Now. Before the fire reaches us.”
Adriana fought her. Clawing at the dirt. “He’s in there! Dante! DANTE!”
Her mother slapped her. Hard. Once. The sting snapped Adriana back to reality.
“He chose to stay,” Elena said, voice breaking. “He chose you over himself. Don’t make his death mean nothing.”
Adriana collapsed into her mother’s arms. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Dante was gone. The man who killed for her. Who lied for her. Who burned for her.
Sirens screamed closer. Police. Fire trucks.
Elena dragged her into the tunnel. “Luca will meet us at the river. He has a boat. We disappear tonight.”
Adriana didn’t fight anymore. She let her mother pull her through the dark, clutching the doll in one hand. The only thing left of her childhood.
They burst out at the riverbank. A small motorboat waited. Luca stood in it, gun drawn, eyes scanning the trees.
“Is he—” Luca started.
Elena shook her head once. Luca’s face went blank. He helped them into the boat and started the engine.
As they pulled away, Adriana looked back.
The church was collapsing. Roof caved in. Flames shot 20 feet high.
And for one second, she thought she saw movement in the doorway. A shadow. Tall. Black suit.
Then it was gone.
“No,” Adriana whispered. “He’s alive.”
Luca didn’t answer. He just pushed the throttle harder.
They rode for hours. No words. Just the sound of water and Adriana’s ragged breathing.
Dawn broke gray over the horizon when they reached a small dock in New Jersey. No city. No Moretti Tower. Just fog and abandoned warehouses.
Elena helped Adriana out. Her legs barely worked. “We’re safe here. For now.”
Luca handed Adriana a phone. Burner. New number. “Boss said if anything happened, give you this. One number saved. Don’t use it unless you have to.”
Adriana stared at the screen. One contact: _D_
Her hands shook. “He’s dead. There’s no point—”
“Call it,” Elena said softly. “For closure.”
Adriana pressed call.
It rang. Once. Twice.
Then a voice, rough from smoke: “Don’t.”
Adriana dropped the phone.
Luca caught it before it hit the ground.
Dante’s voice came through the speaker. Weak. Painful. “Don’t answer. Don’t come back. Don’t look for me.”
Adriana grabbed the phone. “Dante? Dante, are you alive? Where are you?”
Silence. Then a cough. Wet. Like blood. “I’m alive. Barely. Vittorio’s dead. I made sure of it. The DNA files are destroyed. The video’s gone. You’re free, Adriana.”
Tears burned her eyes. “Then come home. Come to me.”
“I can’t,” Dante said. “The world thinks I died in that fire. And it’s better that way. If I come back, they’ll come for you. Russo family. Moretti enemies. Cops. Everyone.” He paused. “I’d rather be dead than be the reason you get hurt again.”
Adriana pressed the phone to her forehead. “I don’t care about the world. I care about you.”
“You chose me,” Dante whispered. “Now let me choose for you. Live, Adriana. Have a life. Have children. Have a husband who isn’t cursed. Have everything I can’t give you.”
The line went dead.
Adriana threw the phone into the river. It sank without a sound.
For three days, she didn’t speak. Didn’t eat. Just stared at the wall of the small safe house Luca brought them to.
Elena tried. “He did it for you, baby. He loved you enough to let you go.”
Adriana didn’t answer. What was there to say? The devil died for her.
On the fourth day, Luca came in with a newspaper. Front page: _MORETTI TOWER EXPLODES. DANTE MORETTI PRESUMED DEAD. VITTORIO MORETTI FOUND IN RUBBLE._
No mention of Adriana. No mention of the wedding. Like she never existed.
Luca set the paper down and left without a word.
Adriana picked it up. Her hands didn’t shake anymore.
She stared at Dante’s photo. Black suit. Cold eyes. The devil who became her husband for 72 hours.
She touched his face in the picture. “You don’t get to decide that for me,” she whispered.
That night, she took the burner phone from Luca’s drawer. The one he thought she didn’t know about.
She dialed the number. _D_
It rang.
A woman answered. “Who is this?”
Adriana’s blood froze. “Who are you?”
The woman laughed. Soft. Familiar. “I’m the one Dante called when he crawled out of that fire. I’m the one who stitched him up. I’m the one he’s living with now.”
Adriana couldn’t breathe. “What’s your name?”
“Doesn’t matter,” the woman said. “What matters is he’s alive. And he doesn’t want you, Adriana. He told me everything. About the contract. About the lies. About how he used you.”
Adriana’s vision went black. “You’re lying.”
“Am I?” The woman’s voice went cold. “Ask him yourself. If he answers.”
Click. Dial tone.
Adriana dropped the phone. Her hands were shaking again.
Elena rushed in. “What happened? Who was that?”
Adriana couldn’t speak. She just pointed at the newspaper. At Dante’s photo.
Elena read it. Her face went pale. “No. He wouldn’t—”
“He did,” Adriana whispered. “He’s alive. And he has someone else.”
She stood and walked to the window. Outside, New Jersey looked empty. Cold. Nothing like New York.
For 10 years she thought her mother was dead. For 3 days she thought Dante was dead.
Now both were alive. And both had left her.
Adriana turned to Elena. Eyes dry now. Hard.
“I’m done being sold,” she said. “Done being lied to. Done being the girl everyone protects and abandons.”
Elena reached for her. “Baby, he loved you—”
“Love doesn’t leave,” Adriana cut her off. Voice flat. “Love doesn’t let you burn and then call another woman.”
She walked past her mother and into the bedroom. She packed one bag. Clothes. The doll. The gun Dante taught her to use.
Luca knocked on the door. “Where are you going?”
Adriana slung the bag over her shoulder. “Back to New York.”
“Boss said—”
“Boss is dead,” Adriana said. She looked him straight in the eye. “And I’m not his anymore.”
She walked out. Elena called after her. Luca didn’t follow.
She took a bus. Then a train. Then walked 12 blocks in the rain.
She stopped in front of Moretti Tower. Or what was left of it. Blackened glass. Police tape. News vans.
Reporters swarmed the gates. “Miss! Did you know Dante Moretti? Were you his wife?”
Adriana ignored them. She walked straight to the front desk. To the woman who’d been there when she signed the contract.
“I’m Adriana Russo,” she said. Voice steady. “I need to see Antonio Russo.”
The woman frowned. “Mr. Russo is in custody. He’s being charged with—”
“I don’t care,” Adriana said. She slammed Dante’s ring on the counter. The white gold Moretti crest. “Tell him his daughter is here. And she has questions.”
The woman picked up the phone.
Adriana stared at the ring on the counter. The ring Dante put on her finger. The ring he died for.
Or so she thought.
Footsteps behind her. Slow. Deliberate.
A voice, rough from smoke and pain: “You shouldn’t have come back, piccola.”
Adriana turned slowly.
Dante stood there. Alive. Burn scars on the left side of his face and neck. Arm in a sling. But alive. Eyes black and furious.
Behind him: the woman from the phone call. Young. Blonde. Hand on his good arm.
Dante’s eyes locked on Adriana. For one second, pain flashed there. Real pain.
Then the mask slid back. Cold. Empty. The devil.
“You made a mistake coming here,” Dante said. He stepped forward, leaving the blonde woman behind. “I told you to run.”
Adriana lifted her chin. “You told me a lot of things. Most of them were lies.”
Dante stopped inches from her. Close enough to smell smoke and medicine on his skin. Close enough to see the scars.
“I’m not the man you married,” he said. Quiet. Only she could hear. “I’m worse now. Because I survived and you didn’t stay dead.”
Adriana looked past him at the blonde woman. Then back at him.
“Who is she?” Adriana asked.
Dante didn’t look back. “No one. A nurse.”
The blonde woman smiled. “Sophia. His fiancée.”
The word hit Adriana like a bullet.
Dante’s jaw ticked. “She’s lying.”
“Am I?” Sophia stepped forward and slipped her arm through Dante’s. “Ask him about the last three nights, Adriana. Ask him whose bed he slept in.”
Adriana looked at Dante. Waiting.
Dante didn’t deny it. He didn’t confirm it. He just stared at her with those black, empty eyes.
Finally, he said: “I told you to run, Adriana. You didn’t listen. Now you’ll have to live with the consequences.”
He turned and walked away, Sophia clinging to his arm.
Adriana stood frozen as he disappeared through the doors.
Her hand went to her stomach. Flat. Empty.
But the pregnancy test in her bag, the one she took yesterday morning, was positive.
Two pink lines.
Dante’s child. Or Vittorio’s. She didn’t know yet.
She picked up the ring from the counter and slipped it back on her finger.
Then she smiled. Small. Cold. Dangerous.
If Dante wanted to play devil, she’d play his wife.
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- Writer
