Aria's POV
"Uncle Marco?" My voice comes out small and broken. "What are you doing here?"
"Saving you from making a terrible mistake." His gun doesn't waver. He's aiming right at my heart. "I said step away from him."
My legs won't move. I'm frozen between the two men—Dante behind me, Marco in front. Both dangerous. Both holding pieces of truth I don't understand.
"How did you get in here?" Dante asks. His voice is calm. Too calm.
"I've had keys to this building for three years." Marco's smile is sharp and mean. "You're not the only one with connections, Constantino. Now, Aria. Last chance. Come here."
"She's not going anywhere," Dante says.
"She's not YOUR property to keep!"
"She's not yours either."
They're talking about me like I'm not even here. Like I'm some prize they're fighting over.
Anger burns through my fear.
"STOP!" I shout. Both men look at me. "Just... stop. Uncle Marco, lower the gun. Please."
"Not until you're away from him." Marco's eyes are hard. I've never seen him look at me like this before. Like I'm a stranger. "He's poisoning your mind, Aria. Whatever he told you, it's lies."
"Is it?" I hold up my phone, showing him the photo Dante gave me. "Is this a lie? Your tattoo. The serpent. The same symbol from my parents' murder scene."
Something flickers across Marco's face. Surprise. Then anger.
"He showed you that?"
"Answer the question!" My hands are shaking so badly I almost drop the phone. "Do you have this tattoo or not?"
Silence.
Then Marco slowly rolls up his sleeve.
There it is. Black ink on his pale skin. A snake swallowing its own tail.
My world crashes down around me.
"You lied to me," I whisper. "All these years. You lied."
"I protected you—"
"YOU USED ME!" The scream tears out of my throat. "You trained me to kill Dante. You pointed me at him like a weapon. And the whole time, YOU were part of whatever killed my parents!"
"It's not that simple." Marco's voice softens. "Aria, little bird, you don't understand—"
"Then EXPLAIN!"
"I can't. Not yet. Not here." His eyes flick to Dante, full of hatred. "But I can tell you this—he's lying about investigating your parents. He's playing you. Everything Dante Constantino does is manipulation."
"Really?" Dante steps beside me. "Then why am I still alive? She's been in my home for hours. If this was a trap, I'd have already killed her."
"Maybe you're waiting for something. Maybe you want to use her just like I did."
The words hit like a slap. Just like I did.
Marco doesn't even deny it. He used me. Trained me. Shaped me into a weapon. And he doesn't care.
"Get out," I say quietly.
"What?"
"GET OUT!" I point at the door. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to show up here with a gun and tell me what to think. Not anymore."
"Aria—"
"She told you to leave," Dante says, voice like steel. "So leave. Before I make you."
Marco's gun swings toward Dante. "Big words for a dead man."
Everything happens in a blur.
Dante moves—fast, so fast—shoving me behind him. Marco fires. The gunshot is deafening in the small office.
But Dante's already rolling, coming up with his own gun from somewhere, firing back.
I scream.
Both shots miss. Barely.
"STOP IT!" I throw myself between them. "BOTH OF YOU, STOP!"
"Aria, move!" Dante tries to pull me back.
"No!" I spread my arms wide, protecting him from Marco. Protecting Marco from him. Protecting two men I don't even know if I can trust. "No more shooting. No more lies. I want the TRUTH. Right now. Both of you."
They stare at me. Then at each other.
Slowly, very slowly, they lower their guns.
"Talk," I demand. "Marco. You first. Why do you have that tattoo?"
Marco's jaw clenches. For a moment I think he won't answer. Then he sighs.
"I'm part of an organization. The Syndicate. We operate above the five families. We... keep order."
"Keep order?" Dante laughs bitterly. "You start wars. You manipulate the families into destroying each other."
"Sometimes order requires sacrifice." Marco won't look at me. "Sometimes innocent people die so that worse things don't happen."
My stomach turns. "My parents. Were they... a sacrifice?"
"They were going to expose us. Both of them. Your mother was undercover in the Ricci family. She found out about the Syndicate. She was going to tell the FBI everything." His voice is flat. Empty. "We couldn't let that happen."
The room spins.
"You killed them." I can barely breathe. "You. Not the Constantinos. YOU."
"Not me personally. But yes. The Syndicate ordered the hit. I was... assigned to clean up afterward. To take you into custody." Finally, he looks at me. His eyes are wet. "I wasn't supposed to keep you, Aria. I was supposed to... eliminate the loose end. But when I found you in that closet, covered in blood, eyes so big and scared... I couldn't do it."
"So you raised me instead." Dante sounds disgusted. "Shaped her into a weapon pointed at my family. All to cover up YOUR organization's crimes."
"I gave her a purpose! A reason to survive!" Marco shouts. "Do you know what happens to seven-year-olds who watch their parents die? They break. They give up. But Aria? She fought. She survived. Because I gave her something to fight for."
"You gave her a LIE!" Dante fires back.
"I gave her LIFE!"
I can't listen anymore. Can't breathe. Can't think.
Everything I believed. Everything I am. It's all built on lies.
My parents didn't die because of the Constantinos. They died because of the Syndicate. Because Marco's organization killed them.
And Marco—the man who raised me, who trained me, who I thought loved me—he was part of it. Maybe he didn't pull the trigger, but he was there. He knew. He helped cover it up.
For fifteen years.
"I think I'm going to be sick," I whisper.
Dante's hand touches my shoulder. Gentle. Grounding. "Breathe. Just breathe."
Marco takes a step toward me. "Aria, please. I know this is hard, but—"
"Hard?" I look up at him. "You killed my parents and made me love you. That's not hard. That's evil."
He flinches like I slapped him.
"I never wanted this," he says quietly. "But I can't change the past. What I can do is protect you now. The Syndicate knows you're here. They know you've talked to Dante. They'll come for you."
"Let them come," I say. My voice sounds strange. Hollow. "At least they're honest about wanting me dead."
"You don't mean that."
"Don't I?" I'm crying now, hot angry tears. "You lied to me every single day. You made me hate Dante for something his family didn't even do. You used me. So yeah, Uncle Marco, I think I prefer my enemies honest."
Silence falls.
Then Marco does something I've never seen before.
He puts his gun down. Completely. Just sets it on the desk and backs away.
"I'm sorry," he whispers. "For all of it. I'm so, so sorry, little bird."
Then he turns and walks out.
Just... leaves.
The door closes behind him. I hear the elevator ding. Then silence.
I'm alone with Dante in his office, my whole world shattered around me.
"Are you okay?" he asks softly.
"No." I wipe my eyes angrily. "But I will be. I have to be."
"You don't have to be anything right now."
"Yes, I do." I turn to face him. "Because Marco was right about one thing. The Syndicate knows I'm here. They'll come for me. For you too, probably."
"Let them try."
"This isn't a game, Dante."
"I know." His gray eyes are intense. Serious. "Which is why you're going to stay here. In my penthouse. Under my protection. Until we figure out what to do."
"I can protect myself."
"I know you can. But you don't have to. Not alone. Not anymore."
The kindness in his voice breaks something in me.
I start to cry. Really cry. Not angry tears—sad ones. Grief for my parents. Grief for the uncle I thought I had. Grief for the life I thought I was living.
Dante pulls me into his arms. Holds me while I sob into his expensive suit.
"I've got you," he murmurs. "I've got you."
And for the first time in fifteen years, I let someone else be strong.
Later, after the tears stop, Dante shows me to a bedroom.
"This is yours," he says. "For as long as you need it."
It's beautiful. Huge bed, soft carpet, windows overlooking the city.
"Thank you," I whisper.
He nods and leaves, closing the door quietly.
I sit on the bed, exhausted. Broken. Lost.
My phone buzzes.
Unknown number: He's lying to you too. Check his desk drawer. Bottom left. You'll see.
My blood runs cold.
Who sent this?
I look at the closed door. Think about Dante's office down the hall.
Bottom left drawer.
What's in there?
My hand shakes as I type back: Who is this?
The reply comes instantly: