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In an explosive movement, Alphonse lunged at Dante, gripping him viciously around the collar. “Why didn’t you keep her safe?” he bellowed. “I trusted you and your brother to protect her!” His chest heaved, the intensity of his rage palpable.

“I know you did, and we did everything we could,” Dante tried to explain, but Alphonse wasn’t listening. His fury engulfed him like a raging fire. An emotion I knew deeply, one that resonated painfully within me.

“If she was alive this entire time… where the hell is Malik?” Alphonse spat.

“I don’t know. He disappeared a few weeks ago,” Dante choked out.

Alphonse shoved Dante back, the force sending him stumbling. Alphonse turned away, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. He approached the fireplace, leaning his arms on the mantelpiece, his head lowered as if the world's burdens were bearing down on him. The heat from the flames matched the volcanic anger boiling within me at the thought of living in a world where Gigi didn’t exist. He must have felt the same at the thought of existing in a world without Angelica.

“How?” Alphonse’s voice emerged, hoarse, barely a whisper against the crackling fire.

“Don’t do this to yourself. The details don’t matter,” Dante said, his lips turned downward.

“You let me make that decision,” Alphonse demanded, a haunting plea. “Tell me.”

Silence hung in the air, thick and suffocating. Alphonse slowly turned, his brown eyes locking onto Dante’s, a storm brewing within them.

“We don’t knowwhoexactly,” Dante began. “All I know is that they beat her and…stabbed her.”

Jesus, fuck.

“And her daughter saw it all,” Dante concluded.

Alphonse’s eyes widened. “Daughter?”

Dante gave a solemn nod, his expression grave. “Yes.”

Alphonse froze, his gaze locked onto Dante as if trying to unravel the weight of that revelation.

“She was pregnant when she left Italy.” Dante took a deep breath before adding, “You have a daughter, Al.”

“A daughter?” Alphonse shook his head. “No. She would’ve told me. Mybellissimawould’ve told me.”

“She wanted to tell you, but she was terrified of breaking your heart, knowing you had a daughter out there that you couldn’t bewith. Angelica thought she was doing the right thing by keeping it from you.”

A whirlwind of emotions played out on Alphonse’s face—grief, hurt, regret, love, and a simmering anger that threatened to boil over. “Where is my daughter now?”

“We aren’t sure, but that’s why we’re here,” Dante replied.

“Don’t you fucking tell me my daughter is dead, Dante. Don’t you even think about saying those words to me!” Alphonse’s voice thundered through the room, each syllable dripping with fury so raw it felt like it could rip the walls apart. His hands balled into fists.

“Why the hell are you here, Dante?” he spat, his breath ragged. “What does this have to do with my baby girl?” The question hung in the air, heavy and charged, like a loaded gun waiting to fire. One wrong word, one slip of the tongue, and Alphonse would pull the trigger.

“She was kidnapped last night,” Dante said in a grave tone. “We don’t know where she is, only that she might be nearby.”

Alphonse rubbed the back of his neck aggressively. “Tell me everything from the beginning,” he ordered.

And so Dante did.

“I need a fucking drink,” Alphonse snarled, striding toward the bar like a man possessed. “Anyone else?”

We all responded with a yes, and he poured four glasses of whiskey, the amber liquid swirling in the glasses. Luca and I perched on the barstools while Dante sank into the couch, his gaze fixed out the window.

Alphonse took a seat in a chair near the window, his back to the view. “And what role do you play in this, Nico?” Alphonse looked at me with narrowed eyes.

“We’ve been dealing with someone who calls himself the Puppet Master. He has been stealing my shipments and takingout my men.” I clenched my hands into fists, the memories of those losses fresh and painful.

“The Puppet Master?” Alphonse echoed.