The elevator ride back up from the basement felt like ascending from a grave. My father’s screams were still ringing in my ears, a high-pitched, desperate sound that should have broken my heart. But it didn't. For the first time in my life, I felt a cold, jagged sense of power. The guilt I had carried for years—the feeling that I owed him my life—had been burned away by the ink on that letter.
Luciano didn't let go of me. His hand was a vice around my waist, his fingers digging into the silk of my robe, pulling me so close that I could feel every muscle in his thigh move against mine as we stood in the confined space. The silence between us was no longer tense with suspicion. It was charged, electric, and heavy with a shared, lethal purpose.
"You're quiet," he said, his voice a low vibra
