SOLD TO SIN

Episode 8: Bleed With Me

ARIA’S POV

I knew something was wrong the second the elevator doors opened.

The garage was too quiet.

Dante wasn’t loading guns. Marco wasn’t swearing in Italian. Silas wasn’t leaning on the SUV, looking bored.

Instead, there were two girls.

Two girls I’d never seen.

Two girls who stood like they owned the place.

The first one was tall. Blonde. Ice-blue eyes and a mole cutting through her left brow — the same mole Enzo had. Family. She wore leather, a knife at her thigh, and a look that said she’d gut me for breathing wrong.

The second one—

My heart stopped.

Black hair. Green eyes. His eyes. But softer. Sadder. A face I’d only seen in the files Dante “accidentally” left open.

Lucia Moretti.

Enzo’s fiancée.

The one who died in a car bomb five years ago.

The one he loved.

“Boss,” Dante said. His voice sounded like it had been dragged over glass. “We have a situation.”

Enzo walked out of the elevator.

Saw them.

And stopped.

The garage went dead.

Even the guns went silent.

“Lucia,” Enzo said.

Not a question. Not a prayer. A sentence.

The girl smiled. Small. Broken. Real. “Hey, amore mio.”

Amore mio.

My love.

My stomach hit the concrete.

Because suddenly, I understood.

I wasn’t the payment anymore.

I was the replacement. ENZO’S POV

Ghosts don’t breathe.

But Lucia was breathing.

Standing ten feet away. Black hair. Green eyes. A scar on her neck I put there the night I proposed — when my ring caught on her necklace.

She was dead.

I buried her.

I burned the world for her.

“Lucia,” I said.

She smiled.

Amore mio.

And for one second, I was 23 again. Stupid. In love. Unbroken.

Then I saw Aria.

Behind me. Jeans. Tank top. No makeup. No pretense. Just her.

And the ghost stopped mattering.

“Explain,” I said.

My voice could’ve frozen hell. ARIA’S POV

War Room — 8:09 PM

“Explain.”

Enzo stood at the head of the table. No suit jacket. Black shirt. Gun visible. He hadn’t looked at me since the garage. Hadn’t looked at anyone except her.

Lucia sat to his right.

Where I was supposed to sit.

Where Nyx used to sit.

The blonde with the scar sat to his left. “I’m Chiara,” she said before anyone asked. “Marco’s sister. I run the Rome ports.” She glanced at me. “You’re the debt.”

“I’m Aria.”

“Sure you are.”

Lucia touched Enzo’s hand. Light. Barely there. But I saw it. Everyone saw it.

“I didn’t die,” Lucia said. Her voice was softer than I remembered from the photos. Alive. “The bomb... I was pulled out. Burned. Broken. The Marinos took me. Used me as leverage against you for years.”

“Why now?” Enzo’s face was stone. But his knuckles were white.

“Because they don’t need me anymore.” Lucia’s eyes flicked to me. “They have her now.”

I went cold.

“They think she’s the money,” Chiara said. “Vale’s accounts. Eighty-two million. They think you’re keeping her close because she’s the key.”

She was the key.

A.V. 7-14-02.

Still burning a hole in my pocket.

Still a secret.

“Then they’re wrong,” Enzo said. Flat. “She doesn’t know the password.”

He said it like fact. Like he believed me.

My throat closed.

Lucia smiled at me. Sad. Knowing. “Smart girl.”

“Enough.” Enzo stood. “The meeting’s in an hour. We go in, we listen, we leave. No one bleeds unless I say so.”

He looked at me. Finally.

“You’re staying.”

“No.”

“Aria—”

“You said partners bleed together.” I stood too. “Or was that just when it was convenient?”

Chiara snorted. “I like her.”

Enzo’s jaw ticked. “Fine. You come. You stay behind me. You don’t speak. You don’t breathe unless I tell you.”

“Fine.”

Lucia touched his arm again. “Enzo, she’s—”

“Don’t.” He pulled away. Not mean. Careful. Like she was glass. Like she might break. “Don’t tell me how to run my war.”

Lucia’s face fell.

And I hated that I felt sorry for her. ENZO’S POV

Red Hook — Marino Warehouse — 9:30 PM

The place smelled like salt, blood, and gasoline.

Marino men lined the walls. Armed. Waiting.

Don Salvatore Marino sat at a table in the center. Sixty. Fat. Rings on every finger. Smiling like he’d already won.

“You brought the whole family,” he said when I walked in. His eyes went to Lucia. Widened. “And ghosts. How sentimental.”

I didn’t sit. “You wanted a meeting. Talk.”

“I want the girl.” Salvatore nodded at Aria. “Vale’s money. Vale’s blood. Give her to me, and I walk away from the ports.”

“No?” Salvatore laughed. “You’d die for her? For a debt?”

I didn’t answer.

But my hand moved. Just an inch. Closer to my gun.

Lucia stepped forward. “Salvatore, please. She’s innocent. Take me instead. You already—”

“Sit down, puttana,” Salvatore snapped. “You’re used goods. I want new.”

I moved.

One second I was still. The next my gun was out, pointed at Salvatore’s head.

“Call her that again,” I said, voice so quiet the room went dead, “and I’ll paint these walls with your brains.”

I wasn’t talking about Aria.

I was talking about Lucia.

And I hated myself for it.

Because Aria was behind me.

And I saw her face.

She thought it was for her.

It wasn’t.

Not completely.

Salvatore smiled.

And nodded to the back.

A sniper.

Red dot appeared.

On Aria’s chest.

“Drop it,” Salvatore said. “Or she dies.”

I froze.

Aria couldn’t breathe.

This is it.

This is where I lose her.

Then I moved.

I didn’t shove Aria. Didn’t yell.

I stepped in front of her.

The shot rang out.

Pain.

My shoulder. High. Close to the neck.

I stayed standing.

Turned.

And put three bullets in the sniper’s skull before he could fire again.

Chaos.

Screaming. Guns.

Dante grabbed Aria. “Down!”

Silas and Marco opened fire.

Chiara was laughing, shooting, beautiful and terrible.

Lucia screamed my name.

I didn’t fall.

I walked to Salvatore.

Grabbed him by the throat. Slammed him onto the table.

“You shoot at what’s mine,” I said. Blood running down my arm. Down my shirt. “You die.”

I didn’t pull the trigger.

I used the knife.

Fast. Clean. Throat to navel.

Salvatore gurgled.

Died.

The warehouse went silent.

I turned.

Found Aria.

And collapsed. ARIA’S POV

Medical Wing — 11:47 PM

“Bullet missed the artery.”

Dante’s voice. Flat. Relieved.

“By a centimeter,” Marco added. “He’s lucky.”

“He’s not lucky,” Chiara said. “He’s stupid. Stepping in front of a bullet for a girl who—”

“Stop.”

Enzo’s voice. Weak. But there.

He was awake.

I was at his bedside. Hadn’t moved in two hours. My hands were covered in his blood. My jeans too. I didn’t care.

His eyes found me.

Green. Hazy. Alive.

“You’re okay,” I whispered.

“Are you?”

“Me? You’re the one—”

“You froze.” His voice was rough. “When the dot was on you. You froze.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He closed his eyes. “Better you freeze than die.”

Lucia stood in the doorway.

She’d been there the whole time. Watching. Quiet.

Enzo didn’t look at her.

But his hand moved.

Found mine.

Held it.

Not mine. Not debt.

Just... held.

Lucia saw.

And left. ENZO’S POV

The Green Room — 2:00 AM

I shouldn’t be up.

Shoulder was on fire. Head was spinning.

But I couldn’t hear her breathing.

And if I couldn’t hear her breathing, I couldn’t sleep.

I knocked.

She opened it.

Same jeans. Same tank top. Blood still on her hands.

“You should be in bed,” she said.

“I was.” I leaned on the doorframe. “Too quiet. Couldn’t hear you breathing.”

Her eyes went wide.

“Can I come in?”

She stepped back.

I walked in. Slow. Hurt. I sat on the bed. Not the chair. The bed. Like I belonged there.

“Why did you do it?” she asked.

“Do what?”

“Step in front of me.”

I looked at her. Really looked.

“You know why.”

“Say it.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because if I say it, it’s real. And real things get me killed.”

She sat beside me. Not touching. But close.

“Lucia’s alive,” she said.

“I know.”

“Do you still...” She couldn’t say it. Love her.

“I don’t know.” I was honest. Brutally so. “Five years. I mourned her. I buried her. I built my life around her grave. And now...”

“Now what?”

“Now there’s you.”

The words were a bullet.

Her breath caught.

“I don’t know the password,” she lied. Again.

“I know.”

“I’m not yours.”

“I know.”

“Then why—”

“Because I’m selfish.” I turned to her. “And because when I saw that dot on your chest, I didn’t think about eighty-two million dollars. I didn’t think about the ports. I didn’t think about Lucia.”

“What did you think about?”

“You.” My hand came up. Hovered near her face. Didn’t touch. “Just you.”

She closed her eyes.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t make me choose. Between the money and you. Because I’ll pick wrong.”

I dropped my hand.

Stood.

Walked to the door.

“Aria,” I said.

She looked up.

“I’m not asking you to say you’re mine anymore.” My voice was rough. Honest. “I’m asking you to stay until I figure out how to be yours.”

I left. ARIA’S POV

He left.

And I sat there.

Photo in one hand. A.V. 7-14-02.

Heart in my throat.

And for the first time, I wanted to give him the password.

Not because he asked.

Because he stopped asking.

Because he took a bullet for me.

And still loved her.

And still chose .

Tbc..