Page 17 of Fire and Silk
He turns on his heel and storms out, black coat flaring behind him like a curse.
The silence he leaves in his wake is theatrical.
I place a hand over my heart and turn to Matteo. “How could he think of me like that?” I ask, face twisted in mock betrayal.
Matteo doesn’t blink.
“He and Mina have been searching for the fourth heir,” he says flatly.
I smile wider. “Good thing the heir is with me now.”
I move toward the console by the corridor, fingers brushing the surface absently. My reflection in the black glass stares back—button-down half open, posture easy, grin still in place.
Then I look at Matteo again.
“Look up everyone connected to her,” I say, voice low now. “Phone logs. Friends. Employers. Teachers. Neighbors. Anyone my brother might talk to before he gets to them.”
Matteo nods. “Understood.”
“And Matteo?” I gesture toward his slate-gray suit, all formality and death.
He pauses.
“Wear something pretty for our meeting with Don Galluzzi tonight,” I say, grinning. “Light colors. Ivory. Maybe a warm beige. He needs to see us as harmless.”
Matteo’s jaw tenses.
“Oh, and wipe that frown off your face. You’re scary.”
Chapter Three - Lira
The Silk Root Chamber – Sublevel B, Dantès Estate
I wake with a jolt.
A stinging inhale claws through my lungs, and I sit up fast, gasping, shaking, drenched in sweat. My body feels wrong—slow, heavy, like my blood’s been laced with concrete.
“What the fuck,” I whisper, my voice hoarse, brittle, not mine.
I blink into the light. The room is soft, glowing, and quiet. Everything is expensive. Pale velvet. Rose-gold lamps. A rug so thick it swallows sound. The air smells like lavender and lemon balm. There are no beeping machines, no IVs, no industrial lighting.
This isn’t a hospital.
This isn’t my apartment.
This isn’t anywhere I know.
I push the sheets off and stumble out of bed, bare feet hitting warm wood. My legs tremble. My knees almost buckle. I grab the bedpost to stay upright. My heart is pounding like I ran here, but I didn’t run. I was home. I—
I was home.
I was home. I came back from work. The lights weren’t working. I—
Oh god.
I throw myself at the door.
I twist the knob. Yank it. Slam my shoulder into the wood. It doesn’t budge. There’s no sound behind it. No footsteps. No traffic. No city. Just calm.
