The silence after Killian's words wasn't just silence.
It was heavy.
A kind of silence that cracked through bone and made the air hard to breathe.
Rose didn't speak right away. She couldn't. Her mind was too busy trying to wrap around the words that didn't even feel real yet.
"Your father's alive. And he's been watching you since the day you were born."
The phrase looped in her head like a siren.
Alive.
Watching.
Her father.
"I buried him," she finally said. Her voice came out lower than she expected. "I was eight. I remember the coffin. The funeral. The gunshots in the air."
Killian was calm. Unbothered. "It wasn't him in that coffin."
Her eyes snapped to him. "How do you know that?"
"Because I helped him disappear."
Cassian, who'd been pacing in the corner like a storm gathering in slow motion, finally stopped. Stiff. Unreadable. But the silence around him buzzed.
"You knew about her father?" he asked Killian, voice edged in quiet fury.
Killian didn't even blink. "I was sixteen. I didn't owe anyone explanations."
Rose slowly sat down on the edge of the desk, her fingers trembling as she pressed them into her thigh to keep them still. "What was his name?"
Killian turned his eyes on her. "His real name?"
She nodded.
Killian exhaled, then said it like it tasted like ash.
"Adriano DeLuca."
Her breath caught.
She'd never heard that name spoken aloud before—not like that. It was like her whole identity had been a lie this entire time, and now she was seeing it for what it truly was. A mask. A cover-up. A clean page written over ink-stained truths.
"He was one of the most feared financial tacticians in Southern Europe," Killian said. "Laundered billions for the French, Russians, even the Triads before he went underground. Then... he vanished."
He leaned forward, voice low, like they were back in the underworld again.
"He didn't die, Rose. He just needed the world to believe he did."
"I don't get it," she muttered. "If he was alive all this time, why didn't he ever come for me?"
Killian looked down.
Cassian stepped in, his voice sharp. "Because you weren't part of the plan."
That stung.
"Excuse me?"
Killian finally spoke again. "You were born from a deal gone wrong. Your mother was leverage. Beautiful, sweet, and disposable. He didn't plan to love her. And he sure as hell didn't plan to keep the child."
Rose's jaw clenched. "So what—you're saying he abandoned us?"
"Not quite," Killian said, his eyes darker than before. "He made sure you were protected. Paid off people. Made fake threats disappear. But he never stepped in."
"Why?" Her voice cracked. "Why not show his face?"
"Because he knew you'd hate him."
The silence snapped when Cassian slammed his hand against the side table, hard.
"I can't believe this."
He wasn't even looking at her. He was looking at Killian.
"You knew she'd come back one day. You knew this was tied to him. You let her walk into all this blind."
Killian shot him a look. "And you? Don't act like you've been telling her everything either."
The tension between them flared—years of resentment rising to the surface like oil on water.
"Don't turn this on me," Cassian snapped. "I've been the one keeping her from being killed every damn day while you hide in a basement pressing buttons."
"I've been making sure there's a world left for her to return to," Killian bit back. "Without me, none of this would've been possible."
"Enough," Rose cut in, voice like glass cracking. "This isn't about you two swinging egos."
They both fell quiet.
She stood up, her movements sharp, energy different now. Colder.
"Where is he?"
Killian hesitated. "I don't know."
"You just said—"
"I lost track of him years ago. He vanished from all networks. That only happens when a man has too much power... or nothing left to lose."
Rose stared at him.
Something in her shifted.
"I want to find him."
Killian frowned. "That's dangerous. He's not the man you remember."
"I don't remember him. That's the problem."
She looked between the two men—both liars in their own way. Both keepers of truth that they only revealed when forced.
"Get me everything. Every file, every contact, every whisper about Adriano DeLuca. I don't care how long it takes."
Cassian stepped forward. "You sure you want to do this?"
Her eyes met his.
"If he helped fake my death... if he had a hand in making me a ghost... then yeah. I want answers."
A long pause fell between them before Killian gave a single nod.
"I'll start digging tonight."
—
Later that night…
Cassian poured them both a drink on the balcony of the hotel suite they moved into after fleeing Napoli. The air was warm but sharp, the kind of night that begged secrets to spill.
The city lights below looked almost peaceful.
But the space between them wasn't.
"You're angry," he said quietly, handing her a glass.
She took it, sipped. "Wouldn't you be?"
"Of course."
"But you're hiding something too."
Cassian's fingers tightened on his glass.
"I've told you more than I've told anyone."
"That's not the same as telling everything."
He turned toward her, leaning on the railing.
"I didn't want to ruin the way you looked at me."
She didn't answer.
Because deep down… she already knew.
Cassian had always been her calm. Her break from the chaos. Her choice.
But tonight, she realized something else.
He was still wearing a mask, too.
"Cass," she whispered. "If there's something I need to know… tell me now."
Cassian turned slowly, walked toward her, and stopped only inches away. His eyes weren't hard tonight. They were sad.
"I used to work for your father."
The words settled between them like thunder.
Rose didn't move. She didn't speak.
She just blinked.
"Back when I was still clawing my way out of nothing. I was seventeen. Barely legal. Adriano found me in Marseille, saw what I could do with numbers and silence. He used me as a courier at first. Then, the cleaner. Then… the closer."
"You were one of his assassins?"
He shook his head. "Not quite. I wasn't the one pulling triggers. I was the one writing the plans that made those triggers necessary."
Rose swallowed hard.
"Did you know about me?"
"No," he said quickly. "Not at first. I only found out about you years later. And by then... I wasn't with him anymore."
"Why'd you leave?"
Cassian's jaw ticked. "Because he told me something once. Said family was a liability. That love made men weak. That's when I knew I couldn't keep working for someone like that. Someone who saw people as disposable pieces on a board."
"And yet… you kept that from me."
"I didn't want you to see him in me."
She stepped back. Just one step.
But it felt like miles.
Cassian didn't chase her.
He just stood there, glass in hand, city lights flickering behind him like dying stars.
"You've changed," he said softly.
"So have you."
"I just wanted to protect you."
"I don't need protection, Cassian. I need the truth."
Her voice wasn't loud. But it cut him deeper than anything else could have.
"I want to know everything. No more masks. No more riddles. No more damn secrets. You want to be close to me, fine. But I won't live in a maze of half-truths anymore."
Cassian's mouth opened slightly, like he wanted to say something—apologize, maybe.
But instead, he nodded once.
Quiet. Firm.
And then he turned back to the railing, letting the silence swallow the rest.
—
Later, in the dark silence of the hotel bedroom…
Rose sat on the floor near the window, her knees drawn up, the folder Killian gave her hours ago resting on her lap. It was half-filled, barely scratched.
But one photo caught her eye.
A grainy surveillance shot.
A man in a gray coat. Slightly hunched. A scar running down his jawline.
Her fingers hovered over it.
Her throat burned.
Her father.
Adriano DeLuca.
The name she never chose.
The blood that never asked her permission.
The ghost who shaped her life without ever looking her in the eyes.
She pressed the photo to her chest, eyes burning, heart thudding in a rhythm she couldn't name.
And whispered to herself:
"You don't get to disappear again."