The warehouse air was thick with silence, yet Adonis felt a storm inside his chest. His fingers curled tightly into his palms, knuckles white, scars stretching under the strain. Antonio's words echoed like gunshots in his mind—truths buried under a decade of suffering now unspooling with cruel precision.
Juliet stood a few feet away, her pistol still lowered but her body rigid. She wasn't looking at Antonio anymore. She was staring at Adonis.
"What did he mean?" she asked softly, her voice trembling just enough to betray the war happening within her.
Adonis didn't answer immediately. His eyes were locked on Antonio, the man he had trusted since childhood. "Tell her," Adonis said, his tone like steel dragged across gravel. "You want the truth? Give it to her. Give it to both of us."
Antonio swallowed, lowering his weapon. "I never wanted you to go down like that, Dio. I— I didn't mean for it to happen that way. You were getting reckless, and Giorgio was watching. If I hadn't given him something, he would've come after your mother."
"You sold me out," Adonis growled. "You handed him the blueprint to destroy me and then stood beside me like a brother."
"I saved your life," Antonio snapped, guilt flashing across his face. "You wouldn't be alive if I hadn't made a deal."
Juliet looked between them, the floor beneath her seeming less stable with each word. "So… you're saying Adonis wasn't framed completely?"
"No," Antonio said, his voice lowering. "He did plan the heist. But he was set up to take the fall alone. Giorgio made sure the evidence only pointed at him. I was supposed to burn the blueprint. I didn't."
Adonis let out a harsh laugh, one that sounded more like a choked sob. "So all this time, I was the villain and the fool."
Juliet's gaze softened, but she didn't step forward. Her instincts told her to remain still, to not interfere. And yet her heart—her heart was breaking at the sight of him unraveling.
He turned away from Antonio, pacing toward a rusted pillar, his breaths shallow. "Ten years, Antonio. Ten years I was in hell. I begged my mother to believe I was innocent. She died thinking I was a criminal."
"I kept her safe until the end," Antonio said quietly.
"Don't," Adonis hissed. "Don't you dare say her name."
The sound of approaching sirens wailed faintly in the distance. Juliet finally holstered her weapon. "We don't have time. Antonio, if you move, I swear—"
"You think I'm the enemy?" Antonio cut in, bitter. "You think Giorgio hasn't got eyes on all of us right now? The second I walked through that door, I was already dead."
Adonis narrowed his eyes. "Then die on your knees, traitor."
But Juliet stepped between them. "Enough," she said firmly. "We need answers. And if Giorgio's watching, we better make this look like something else. He can't know we know."
Antonio looked surprised. "You're siding with him?"
"I'm siding with the truth," she said. Her voice cracked for a split second, and she forced herself to ignore it. "Both of you have blood on your hands. But I need to know everything—how Giorgio pulled this off, what he's planning, and who else is part of this."
Antonio hesitated, then reached slowly into his jacket. Juliet tensed—but he pulled out a folded envelope instead of a weapon.
"He's moving something," Antonio said. "Something big. Shipment comes in three nights from now at the port. Code name: Red Ice."
"Drugs?" Adonis asked.
Antonio shook his head. "Worse. Human trafficking. Girls. Dozens."
Juliet's blood ran cold. "We need that location. Now."
"You'll have it. Just… don't shoot me until it's done."
She nodded curtly, though the idea was still tempting.
As they made their way out of the warehouse, Juliet lingered behind with Adonis. His face was unreadable, but the pain in his eyes was raw and thunderous.
"I thought I was alone in this," he murmured. "Turns out I was just blind."
Juliet looked up at him. "You're not alone anymore."
He didn't answer, but he didn't pull away either.
Giorgio Giovanni's Estate – Same Night
The flames of the fireplace flickered across Giorgio's angular face as he sipped his wine. In his other hand, he held a small silver locket. Inside it was a photo—aged and creased—of a woman with dark eyes and a bright smile.
Maria De Luca.
He stared at it, his expression unreadable, before sliding it into the drawer of his desk.
A knock.
"Enter," he said.
A shadowed figure stepped inside. "They know about Red Ice."
Giorgio raised an eyebrow. "Which one?"
"Moretti. And De Luca."
He didn't move, only nodded slowly. "Let them come. The deeper they dig, the more buried they become."
His lips curved into a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"I want eyes on Antonio. If he so much as breathes differently, cut his throat."
"Yes, sir."
Giorgio turned back toward the fire. "And find the girl. The one with the tattoo on her wrist. She's the key."
The flames hissed as he dropped another log onto the fire, the shadows growing deeper in the room.