Someone had just become our next target.
Those words followed me long after the meeting ended.
They echoed through the mansion halls.
Through my thoughts.
Through every breath.
The atmosphere inside the De Luca mansion had changed overnight.
Nobody laughed.
Nobody relaxed.
The guards had doubled.
The servants spoke in whispers.
War was coming.
Everyone could feel it.
The next morning, Alessio's father summoned us to the main conference room.
When Alessio and I entered, Zia Maria was already there.
She stood beside the massive table, dressed entirely in black, cleaning one of her knives with alarming concentration.
I wasn't even surprised anymore.
Across from her stood Alessio's father.
The head of the De Luca family.
The man whose presence alone could silence a room.
A thick file rested on the table before him.
My stomach tightened.
Something about that file felt wrong.
Very wrong.
Nobody spoke.
Nobody moved.
Finally, he pushed the file forward.
"The investigation is complete."
The words landed like a gunshot.
Alessio stepped forward.
"So?"
His father opened the folder.
Several photographs spilled across the table.
Bank records.
Phone logs.
Security images.
Evidence.
Lots of evidence.
But I couldn't understand what I was looking at.
Then Alessio's father turned the top photograph around.
And everything stopped.
"No."
The word left Alessio instantly.
Sharp.
Dangerous.
Disbelieving.
I stared at him.
Then at the photograph.
Then back at him.
My heart began to race.
Because Alessio wasn't shocked easily.
"What is it?" I asked.
Nobody answered.
A terrible feeling crawled up my spine.
Slowly, I reached for the file.
My fingers trembled.
I looked down.
And nearly dropped it.
"No..."
The whisper escaped before I could stop it.
The face staring back at me was familiar.
Too familiar.
I knew him.
We all did.
He had eaten at this table.
Worked beside us.
Protected us.
Helped us.
"This can't be right," I said quietly.
Alessio's father remained expressionless.
"The evidence says otherwise."
"No."
Alessio's voice hardened.
"It doesn't."
His father met his gaze.
"You think I'm wrong?"
"I think someone wants us to believe this."
The room became silent.
Dangerously silent.
Neither man looked away.
Neither man backed down.
For a second, I thought they might actually start arguing.
Then Zia Maria sighed dramatically.
"Oh, good. A family fight before breakfast."
Nobody acknowledged her.
I almost laughed despite the tension.
Almost.
My eyes returned to the photograph.
The more I looked at it...the less I believed it.
Something felt wrong.
Too convenient.
Too perfect.
As if someone wanted us to find this evidence.
Wanted us to react.
Wanted us angry.
And that realization scared me more than the accusation itself.
Because if someone was manipulating us...
Then they were smart.
Very smart.
Alessio suddenly grabbed the file.
His jaw tightened.
His knuckles turned white.
"This isn't enough."
His father crossed his arms.
"It should be."
"It isn't."
For a moment, I saw something unexpected.
Fear
Not in Alessio.
In his father.
Only for a second.
Only a flicker.
But it was there.
Then it vanished.
So quickly I almost convinced myself I imagined it.
My pulse quickened.
Something was happening beneath the surface.
Something nobody was saying aloud.
The room felt colder.
Heavier.
More dangerous.
Finally, Alessio threw the file back onto the table.
"We don't move against him."
His father's eyes narrowed.
"You don't make that decision."
Alessio stepped forward.
"The hell I don't."
The room froze.
Nobody spoke.
Nobody breathed.
I had never seen Alessio challenge his father so openly.
Not once.
The tension between them was almost visible.
Like a loaded weapon waiting to fire.
Then Alessio looked at me.
Just me.
And something inside his expression softened.
Only slightly.
Only enough for me to notice.
"We need proof," he said quietly.
Real proof.
Not assumptions.
Not planted evidence.
Proof.
I nodded immediately.
Because for once, I agreed completely.
If they were wrong...
An innocent person could die.
And in our world, mistakes were paid for in blood.
Alessio's father studied both of us.
His expression unreadable.
Then, finally, he gave a single nod.
"Three days."
The room fell silent again.
Three days.
That was all we had.
Three days to discover the truth.
Three days before somebody became a target.
Three days before war truly began.
The meeting ended shortly after.
But the weight of it followed me.
Hours later, I stood alone on one of the mansion balconies.
The city stretched before me.
Beautiful.
Peaceful.
Completely unaware of the storm gathering around it.
Footsteps approached behind me.
I didn't need to turn around.
I knew who it was.
Alessio stopped beside me.
Neither of us spoke immediately.
The silence felt familiar now.
Comfortable.
Dangerous.
"You think he's wrong," I said softly.
"I know he's wrong."
His answer came too quickly.
Too confidently.
I looked at him.
His jaw was tense.
His eyes dark.
But underneath all of it...
I saw something else.
Worry.
Real worry.
And suddenly I understood.
This wasn't just about betrayal.
This wasn't just about war.
This was personal.
Deeply personal.
I reached for his hand before I could stop myself.
His fingers immediately closed around mine.
As if they belonged there.
As if they always had.
For a long moment, neither of us let go.
The city lights flickered below.
The wind moved gently around us.
And for the first time in days...
I felt safe.
Then Alessio's phone rang.
The sound shattered everything.
His expression darkened as he looked at the screen.
He answered immediately.
Listened.
Commpletely still.
My stomach dropped.
"What happened?"
Slowly, Alessio lowered the phone.
His face had gone pale.
The kind of pale that only appeared when something truly terrible happened.
"The man we were supposed to question..."
His voice was barely above a whisper.
"...is dead."
The world seemed to stop.
Because suddenly...
Three days no longer mattered.
Someone was already making there move.
"...Someone was already making their move."
Writing.
A heavy silence settled between us.
Neither of us spoke.
Neither of us needed to.
The meaning was painfully clear.
Someone had eliminated the only person who could have given us answers.
The only person who could have proven whether the accusations were real... or a trap.
I watched Alessio clench his jaw.
The anger rolling off him was almost tangible.
Whoever was behind this wasn't simply attacking the De Luca family anymore.
They were controlling the board.
Moving pieces.
Erasing evidence.
Staying several steps ahead.
For the first time since this nightmare began, uncertainty crept into my chest.
Not fear for myself.
Not even fear of war.
Fear that we were hunting the wrong enemy.
And somewhere in the shadows...
The real monster was watching us destroy ourselves.