The holding room smelled like stale coffee and fear-sweat.
Gianni sat at the metal table, wrists still cuffed, a half-empty bottle of water in front of him. His eyes were bloodshot, hair sticking up like he'd been running his hands through it all night. When Elena and Luca walked in, he looked up with something that might have been relief mixed with dread.
Luca closed the door behind them and leaned against it, arms crossed. Elena took the chair across from her cousin. She didn't speak right away—just looked at him, really looked. The boy who used to sneak her extra cannoli at family dinners. The man who might have helped kill her father.
"Talk," she said finally. Her voice came out quieter than she expected. Tired. "No more bullshit, Gianni. Tell me about the man at the dock. The one who offered you power."
Gianni swallowed hard. His Adam's apple bobbed. "He called himself Alex. Never gave a last name. Said he had inside info on both families. Knew weaknesses. Said if I helped create a little chaos, he'd make sure the Rossi name stayed strong—under new management. Me."
Luca made a low sound in his throat. "And you believed him."
"I was angry," Gianni snapped, eyes flashing. Then the anger drained away, leaving him looking small. "Uncle Vincenzo… he kept saying I wasn't ready. That Elena was the future. I'm blood too. I thought… I thought if things got messy, he'd see I could handle it. I never wanted him dead. Just… pushed aside."
Elena's hands clenched in her lap. "You met him twice. What else did he say?"
Gianni hesitated, then leaned forward. "He talked about an old debt. Said both families owed blood from years back. Mentioned a woman named Maria. Said she was his mother. That the Rossis and Morettis took everything from him. He wanted payback—not just money. He wanted the empires to eat each other until nothing was left. Then he'd pick up the pieces."
Luca pushed off the door and stepped closer. "Did he say where he's staying? Any names? Contacts?"
"No. He was careful. Always met at night, different spots. Paid in cash. But…" Gianni's gaze flicked to Elena. "He knew things about you. Personal things. How you used to sneak out to meet Luca. The locket you kept. Stuff only family would know."
A chill ran down Elena's spine. She thought of the silver locket buried in her drawer back home—the one Luca had given her. The one with the tiny star inside. How did this Alex know about that?
Luca's hand came to rest on her shoulder—warm, solid. She leaned into the touch without thinking.
Gianni noticed. His mouth twisted. "You two really back together? After everything?"
"Not your business," Luca said flatly. But his fingers tightened slightly on her shoulder, protective.
Elena stood up. "One more thing. Did he ever mention a plan for after? What happens when the dust settles?"
Gianni shook his head. "He just said the wolf and the princess would destroy each other. That it was poetic. Then he laughed. Like it was funny."
The room felt too small suddenly. Elena turned and walked out, Luca right behind her. In the hallway she stopped, pressing her back against the cool wall, eyes closed.
Luca stood in front of her, giving her space but staying close. "Hey. Breathe."
She did. In. Out. The air tasted like metal.
"He knows too much," she whispered. "About us. About the locket. About the night you left. It feels personal, Luca. Not just revenge for his mother. Like he's been watching us for years."
Luca's hand found hers, fingers threading together. "We'll find him. Alessandro. Alex. Whatever he calls himself. He's not invisible."
She opened her eyes and looked up at him. The hallway light caught the worry lines on his forehead, the way his jaw kept clenching like he was holding back a dozen things he wanted to say.
"I'm scared," she admitted. The words felt heavy but honest. "Not just for me. For what's left of my family. For Sofia. For you. What if this Alex is right? What if we're just repeating the same mistakes our fathers made?"
Luca stepped closer, their joined hands trapped between them. He rested his forehead against hers, the way he had in the study the other day. Close enough that she could smell the faint coffee on his breath.
"Then we break the cycle," he said softly. "You and me. We don't let the hate win. I spent five years running from what I felt for you. I'm done running. Even if it means standing in the fire together."
His free hand came up, cupping the back of her neck gently. Not pulling her in for a kiss—just holding her there, thumb stroking the soft skin behind her ear. The touch sent warmth spreading through her chest, slow and steady, like sunlight after a long storm.
Elena let her eyes close again. For a moment the hallway disappeared. No Gianni. No ghost named Alessandro. Just Luca's warmth and the quiet promise in his voice.
"I don't want to lose you again," she whispered.
"You won't." His lips brushed her forehead—light, almost hesitant. A promise more than a kiss. "Not this time."
They stayed like that until Sofia's voice echoed down the hall.
"Guys? We got a hit on the name."
They pulled apart slowly. Luca kept hold of her hand as they walked back to the living room.
Sofia was at the table, laptop open. "Alessandro Rossi—no, wait, he changed it. Legal name now is Alexander Kane. Thirty-five. Dropped off the grid at eighteen. Worked odd jobs, then disappeared. But there's a photo from an old arrest record."
She turned the screen.
The man looking back was handsome in a sharp, hollow way. Dark hair. Eyes that looked too much like Luca's—cold blue. A small scar on his left cheek.
Elena's stomach dropped. "He looks… familiar."
Luca stared hard. "He was at my father's funeral. In the back. I thought he was just another low-level guy paying respects. He shook my hand. Said he was sorry for my loss."
The pieces clicked into place, ugly and sharp.
Alexander Kane had been close enough to touch them for years.
And now he was coming for everything they had left.
Luca squeezed Elena's hand once, firm and steady.
"We end this," he said. "Together."
She nodded, even as fear and something warmer tangled in her chest.
Together.
It was starting to feel less like a deal and more like a choice.