Sicily was nothing like Luciana remembered—not that she remembered much.
The sun was warmer. The sea air crisper. And yet, the tension clinging to her shoulders hadn't eased since she stepped off the plane.
They traveled in a single black car, no escort. Anton had stayed behind to coordinate Bratva defenses while Elena worked diplomatic channels from Rome. Luciana and Damian were alone now—exposed, but together.
The address Serafina had sent led them deep into the countryside, through narrow roads and olive groves swaying in the golden wind. At the end of the path stood a centuries-old villa covered in ivy, nestled against the rocky cliffs.
Luciana stepped out of the car, heels crunching against gravel. Damian scanned the perimeter, his fingers never far from the concealed weapon beneath his coat.
"She's in there?" he asked, nodding toward the door.
Luciana nodded. "If she's not already watching us."
He smirked. "Let her watch."
The door creaked open before they could knock.
A tall, silver-haired woman stood there, draped in flowing black robes, eyes sharp as razors.
"Luciana," she said, her voice smooth like aged wine. "You look like your mother. But you carry your father's rage."
Luciana swallowed. "Serafina."
The older woman smiled faintly. "Come inside. Before the ghosts start whispering."
---
The villa interior was grand but decaying—paint peeling, chandeliers dulled, velvet curtains moth-bitten. Yet there was a strength in the bones of the place.
They sat in a library surrounded by dust-covered books. Damian stood guard by the window, silent as ever.
Serafina poured wine with steady hands.
"You're wondering why I disappeared," she said.
Luciana nodded.
"Kevin didn't kill me. But he tried. And when I survived, I realized the only way to destroy a monster like him was from the shadows."
"You've been in hiding for two decades?" Luciana asked.
"No," Serafina said. "I've been building something."
She pulled back a curtain behind her, revealing a wall covered in maps, photographs, names, connections.
A full intelligence web.
Kevin's empire dissected.
Luciana stood, awe blooming in her chest. "You've been… tracking him."
"Studying him," Serafina said. "Waiting for the right moment. And now, you've arrived."
Damian crossed his arms. "Why now? Why reveal yourself after all this time?"
Serafina looked at Luciana. "Because she is the last hope this family has left."
Luciana froze, Damian's hand still curled protectively around her waist.
Serafina stepped forward. "Everything Kevin has built—his empire, his reputation—it's all a house of cards built on blood and betrayal. But you, Luciana… you are the one piece he can't control."
Luciana's voice wavered. "Why me? I was never meant for this. I don't even remember who I was."
Serafina's gaze didn't waver. "You do. You just haven't unlocked it yet. But the fire in your eyes? That's your mother's. The spine in your back? That's mine. And the silence you survived, the lies you crawled through, the war you're walking into now? That… is what makes you stronger than him."
Luciana turned to the wall of maps and photographs. It all felt surreal—like she was reading the final chapter of a story she hadn't even started.
"Did he ever… love me?" she asked quietly.
Serafina was quiet.
Damian answered instead. "He loved what you could do for him. Not who you were."
Luciana's hands curled into fists.
Then she turned, shoulders squaring. "Then I need to remember everything. I need to know what he took from me."
Serafina's eyes softened. "And I will help you. But know this—remembering won't heal you. It'll hurt like hell."
Luciana nodded. "Good. Because I want to remember the pain too."
She stepped toward the wall and ripped down the center photograph of Kevin. Underneath it, scrawled in Serafina's handwriting, were three words:
"Truth. Blood. Fire."
---