Chapter Five – Beneath His Shadow
1153 Words
(Aria’s POV)
The rain didn’t stop that night.
It followed us like a curse, whispering across rooftops and alleyways, soaking the leather of my gloves and the fabric of my resolve. The air was sharp with ozone, my skin damp beneath the trench coat I wore, my heart beating a little too loudly beside the man I swore to hate.
Matteo De Luca walked beside me in silence, his long strides confident even through the downpour. I matched his pace, refusing to let him lead. I wasn’t his woman. I wasn’t his partner. I was the girl he kissed and betrayed—though he hadn’t pulled the trigger, the blood was still on his hands.
And mine, if I let this continue.
But I needed him.
I hated how much I needed him.
---
We stopped outside a crumbling warehouse near the southern docks—one of the last operational trafficking routes tied to the Cruz syndicate.
My hands shook slightly as I pulled out a rusted key Camilla had obtained for me. It slid into the lock with a quiet click.
“Let me go in first,” Matteo said.
“No.”
“You don’t know what’s inside.”
“I know enough,” I said coldly.
And I pushed the door open myself.
---
The inside smelled of mold and metal.
Broken crates, tarps, rusted chains. And in the far back—light.
A single bulb swung above a man tied to a chair, his head bowed, his lip split open.
Marco had done his job.
I recognized the man immediately.
Gian Rossi. Middle-tier enforcer for the Cruz syndicate. The one responsible for the shipping manifest where Selena Cruz had been listed.
I crossed the room slowly, each step echoing.
When I reached him, I crouched down.
He groaned and lifted his chin, one swollen eye peeking through blood.
“Who is Selena Cruz?” I asked.
He coughed. “Why do you care?”
I punched him.
Hard.
His head snapped to the side, blood flying.
Matteo didn’t stop me.
“I said… who is she?”
“She’s no one,” he spat. “Just another girl. Just another product.”
I punched him again.
“Try again.”
“She was one of the original A–level girls,” he gasped. “Too rebellious. Had a temper. Tried to fight. So they sent her for reconditioning.”
My blood ran cold.
“Where?” I asked.
He smiled, and it chilled me more than the rain.
“She’s not there anymore.”
“Where. Is. She.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Cruz moves the high-value girls every two weeks. Private bunkers. Mostly in Romania or Sicily.”
I turned to Matteo. “We need the manifests from the Eastern route. The ones that don’t go through Naples.”
He nodded slowly. “I can get them. But Aria…”
“What?”
He looked at me then, really looked. Like he saw the storm under my skin.
“This is going to get worse before it gets better.”
I nodded. “I know.”
I looked back at Gian.
“Is she alive?” I asked softly.
He hesitated. “I think so.”
That was enough.
---
We left the warehouse without another word.
The sky hadn’t changed. Still dark. Still broken.
We stopped at a private motel Matteo had booked—an abandoned safehouse his family used for low-profile cleanups.
I didn’t want to go in.
I hated that I felt safe there.
But I was soaked to the bone. Exhausted.
And my brother’s face wouldn’t leave my head.
The place was simple—one main room, a single bed, and a worn-out sofa in the corner. Matteo tossed me a towel, and I caught it easily. He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t try to touch me. He just moved around the room like a ghost who didn’t know if he belonged.
I didn’t either.
I shut myself in the bathroom and stared at my reflection.
The girl in the mirror didn’t look like Aria Vescari. She looked older. Colder. Her eyes were too sharp, her mouth a blade.
What had I become?
A daughter trying to burn down her father's empire. A sister fighting to avenge a coma. A woman falling for the one man she shouldn’t want.
---
That night, I dreamt of Matteo.
Not De Luca.
Vescari.
My brother. Lying in the hospital bed. His hands cold, the machines around him blinking like dying stars.
I saw the day it happened again. The gunfire. The blood. The chaos.
But this time… I was there. I saw the shooter. I ran toward him.
And when he turned, it was Giovanni De Luca.
I jolted awake, heart racing.
For a second, I couldn’t breathe.
Then I heard movement.
Matteo was on the sofa, awake, a gun resting on the table beside him.
“You were talking in your sleep,” he said.
I sat up slowly. “I didn’t say anything important.”
“You said your brother’s name.”
I looked away.
“You loved him,” he said quietly.
“I still do.”
He was quiet for a moment. Then:
“You think I had him shot.”
“I did.”
“And now?”
I looked at him, unsure.
The man in front of me didn’t feel like the monster I built in my head.
He felt real.
Broken.
And just as haunted as I was.
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
“I didn’t,” he said. “But I think someone close to me did.”
That caught my attention.
“Who?”
He looked at the wall, his jaw clenched.
“My uncle.”
“Giovanni?”
He nodded.
“Why would he—”
“Because I wouldn’t play ball. I wanted to break off ties with Cruz months ago. Giovanni said I was weak. He wants power. And if my father dies…”
“He takes over.”
“Unless I’m out of the way.”
We stared at each other.
Two heirs. Two bloodlines. Two puppets finally seeing the strings.
I stood and walked toward him.
His breath hitched slightly.
“I don’t trust you,” I said.
“You shouldn’t.”
“But I need you.”
“You do.”
He stood too.
We were inches apart.
And I hated how much I wanted to forget everything for one kiss.
Just one.
But I didn’t move.
Neither did he.
“Get the manifests,” I said.
“I will.”
“And Matteo?”
“Yes?”
“If you lie to me again…”
“I won’t.”
I nodded.
But I didn’t believe him.
Because I’d spent my life surrounded by liars.
And love had made me blind once.
It wouldn’t again.
- Writer
