The room still smelled like gun oil and smoke.
Aria stood in the doorway of Luciano's private study, her heart hammering behind her ribs. The scream had cut through the estate like a crack of lightning—sharp, human, terrified.
Luciano didn't flinch. He sat calmly behind his desk, sleeves rolled, fingers steepled.
Talon stood off to the side, arms crossed, face like stone.
On the floor knelt a man Aria didn't recognize—mid-forties, disheveled suit, blood dripping from a split lip. He was shaking, muttering something through cracked teeth.
"Aria," Luciano said without looking up. "Close the door."
She didn't move. "Who is he?"
Luciano finally raised his eyes. "A liar. A thief. One of ours."
"Yours."
"Now mine," he corrected coldly. "You married in. That means his betrayal is yours, too."
She shut the door—softly, but with every nerve on alert. The air crackled with danger.
"What did he do?"
"Stole from the estate. Fed intel to the Rossi family."
Her stomach sank. The Rossis—the same people who'd eyed her like prey at the meeting.
The man on the floor sobbed once. "I didn't—Luciano, please, my family—"
Luciano stood. Slowly.
He pulled a gun from the drawer. Sleek. Silencer already attached.
Aria's heart stopped.
"You don't have to—" she began.
He looked at her. "You want to lead in this world, Aria? Then understand the currency we deal in. Loyalty. And blood."
"Let Talon do it."
Luciano stepped closer to the man. "No."
Without warning, he raised the gun—
—and fired once.
The man dropped. A red bloom on white carpet.
Silence fell like a thunderclap.
Aria flinched. Not visibly—but inside, something cracked.
Luciano set the gun on the desk.
Then he turned to her.
"You don't have to like it," he said. "But you do have to live with it."
She swallowed hard. "That man had a family."
"So did your brother."
⸻
She didn't speak again until they were alone in the hall.
"You planned that for me, didn't you?" she asked.
"I didn't plan his betrayal. But I knew it would teach you something."
"What lesson? That you're a monster?"
Luciano stepped in close, voice low and cutting. "The world you were born into doesn't run on morals, Aria. It runs on power. People fear me because I'm willing to do what no one else will."
She didn't look away.
"I won't be your puppet."
"I don't want a puppet," he said. "I want a queen who doesn't flinch when blood hits her shoes."
She clenched her jaw. "Be careful what you wish for."
⸻
That night, Aria stood in the bathroom, scrubbing her hands even though no blood had touched her.
She stared at her reflection—still in the same black dress, still wearing his ring, still breathing.
But something inside her had shifted.
This wasn't about vengeance anymore.
This was survival.
And survival demanded transformation.
She wouldn't just endure this world.
She would learn to bend it.
⸻
As she returned to the bedroom, a sealed envelope waited on her pillow.
No markings. No handwriting.
Inside was a single photo.
Her brother—Cris—smiling.
Standing beside a man with his face blurred out.
But Aria recognized the ring on his hand.
Luciano's ring.