Chapter 5: Blood on Marble
1361 Words
I didn’t sleep.
I sat on the edge of the bed until the first pale streaks of dawn brushed against the curtains, my mind replaying Matteo’s words from the night before.
If she finds out the truth, they’ll kill her too.
“They” could be anyone in his world the men from last night’s meeting, the shadowy enemies I hadn’t yet seen, maybe even the people who had killed Mia.
And then there was the way he’d said it.
Not cold. Not indifferent. Almost… resigned.
Like my death would be a matter of when, not if.
By the time Matteo emerged from his room, dressed in another crisp suit and smelling faintly of smoke and leather, I’d decided to confront him.
“Matteo,” I said, catching him by the kitchen counter.
His dark eyes flicked to mine. “You didn’t sleep.”
“Don’t change the subject.” I stepped closer. “Last night. On the phone. You said if I found out the truth, they’d kill me too.”
He didn’t flinch. “And?”
“And I’m not stupid. You know something about Mia’s death.”
Silence.
I took another step forward, my hands trembling. “You were there. You knew her. What happened to my sister?”
Something in his gaze shifte, the faintest crack in the armor. “Isla…” His voice was quieter now, more dangerous for it. “You need to stop digging.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’ll get if you want to live.”
I should have screamed at him.
I should have demanded the truth until he cracked.
But before I could speak again, the sound hit a sharp pop-pop-pop, muffled but close.
Gunshots.
Matteo moved before I could blink, grabbing me and shoving me toward the kitchen island as another volley shattered the glass balcony doors.
“Down!” he barked, drawing a gun from inside his jacket.
The air filled with the sound of splintering wood and shattering glass. Men in black masks swarmed through the opening, weapons raised.
I ducked low, heart slamming against my ribs. Matteo fired back, the deafening shots echoing through the penthouse. Two men went down before they’d even cleared the threshold, but more kept coming.
“Stay here,” Matteo ordered, but he was already moving, a dark blur cutting through the chaos with terrifying precision.
One of the masked men rounded the kitchen. He saw me.
My body reacted before my mind could catch up — I grabbed the nearest thing, a heavy marble vase, and swung with every ounce of fear and adrenaline I had. The vase connected with his temple, sending him crashing to the floor.
I didn’t even have time to feel proud before another man yanked me backward by the hair.
“Let her go!” Matteo’s voice roared from somewhere across the room.
The man didn’t and then he didn’t have the chance to. Matteo’s bullet found him, and I stumbled free, gasping.
“Move!” Matteo grabbed my arm and hauled me toward the private elevator, his other hand still gripping the gun.
We barely made it inside before more shots rang out, ricocheting off the metal doors as they slid shut.
When we reached the underground garage, Matteo didn’t head for the SUV. He pulled me toward a black motorcycle.
“You can’t be serious—”
“Helmet. Now.”
I shoved it on, and seconds later, the engine roared to life, the vibration rattling through me as Matteo tore out of the garage and into the early-morning streets.
The wind whipped against my face as we wove through traffic, sirens wailing somewhere behind us. Matteo didn’t slow until we were deep in the industrial district, the smell of oil and rust heavy in the air.
He stopped in front of an abandoned factory and killed the engine.
“Out,” he said.
Inside, the factory was dark except for the thin beams of light cutting through broken windows. Dust floated in the air, glowing in the sunlight like lazy snow.
Matteo paced once, then turned to face me. “They weren’t after me this time. They were after you.”
“Me?” My voice cracked. “Why?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
I laughed short, bitter. “You don’t know? Or you just don’t want to tell me?”
He didn’t answer.
I took a step toward him, the echo of my heels sharp in the empty space. “Matteo, I am done being in the dark. My father’s debt, Mia’s death, and now people with machine guns storming your apartment..if you think I’m going to just nod and be quiet, you picked the wrong woman.”
His jaw tightened. “The wrong woman is exactly what I picked.”
The words hit harder than I expected. “Meaning?”
“Meaning you weren’t supposed to be here. You weren’t supposed to be in this life at all.”
I stared at him, my pulse loud in my ears. “Then why marry me?”
A long pause.
When he spoke, it was quieter, almost reluctant.
“Because your sister made me promise I would.”
It took me a second to process that. “Mia?”
“She knew she was going to die. She came to me a week before it happened, told me to make sure you were… protected.” His gaze darkened. “Even if it meant chaining you to me.”
My knees felt weak. “You’re saying… she knew?”
“Yes.” He stepped closer, eyes locked on mine. “And she also told me something else, something I didn’t believe until last night.”
“What?”
“That someone in my crew wanted you dead. Not for your father’s debt. Not to get to me. But because of what you are.”
The sound of boots on concrete cut him off.
Matteo spun, gun raised.
From the shadows, a figure emerged tall, broad-shouldered, his face half-lit by the dusty sunlight.
I froze.
Because I knew that face.
“Mia?” I whispered before I could stop myself. No. Not Mia. But his eyes, those eyes were hers.
The man smiled faintly. “You recognize me.”
“Who the hell are you?” Matteo demanded, voice cold.
The man’s gaze stayed on me. “Name’s Adrian Vale. Your father’s son. Which makes me…” His smile widened. “…your brother.”
My breath caught. “That’s impossible.”
“Is it?” Adrian stepped closer. “Dad had a lot of secrets. You were one. I was another.”
Matteo’s grip on his gun tightened. “If you’re here to play family reunion, wrong place, wrong time.”
Adrian’s eyes flicked to him, then back to me. “You think he’s protecting you, Isla? You think marrying him was a coincidence? He’s been lying to you since day one. About Mia. About the debt. About why you’re really here.”
I shook my head. “You’re lying.”
He reached into his coat, and for a terrifying second, I thought he was going for a weapon. But instead, he tossed something across the floor.
It slid to a stop at my feet.
A photograph.
I picked it up with shaking hands. It was Mia — alive, standing beside Adrian and Matteo.
The date in the corner was two days before Mia’s funeral.
“Matteo?” My voice was barely a whisper.
His jaw clenched, but he said nothing.
Adrian smiled like he’d won something. “You see? She was never dead when you thought she was. And he knew.”
The room seemed to tilt. My stomach turned to ice.
But before I could demand an answer, another sound ripped through the air, the metallic click of a gun being c****d.
From the catwalk above, half a dozen armed men appeared, rifles aimed down at us.
Adrian raised his hands slowly, his gaze never leaving mine. “Guess we’ll have to finish this talk later.”
And then chaos erupted.
- Writer
