The room feels like it’s closing in on me as Dominic leans closer, his eyes shadowed with secrets I’ve barely begun to unearth.
“This third player… It’s someone you know. Someone close.”
His words send a chill down my spine, and I wrap my arms around myself, trying to ignore the instinct to recoil.
“Who?” I demand, my voice edged with both fear and impatience. “Who’s been pulling the strings all this time?”
Dominic glances around the room, his eyes flickering toward the door, as though expecting danger at any moment. His unease spreads to me. I’ve felt hunted before-but now, it feels inevitable.
“It’s someone you trust.” Dominic’s voice is low, as if saying it louder will summon the devil himself. “I promised your father I’d keep this buried. But if you want to survive, you need to know the truth.”
I grip the edge of the table so hard my knuckles turn white. “Then tell me.” My voice shakes, but the fury beneath it is clear. “Who the hell is it?”
He opens his mouth to answer, but a sound-so sudden, so sharp-cuts through the air.
BANG!
Dominic’s body jerks forward as a bullet tears through his chest. Blood sprays across the floor, warm and sticky, as he collapses, gasping for breath.
“No!” I scream, dropping to my knees beside him. My hands press against the wound, desperate to stop the bleeding, but it’s useless. He’s dying. Right here. Right in front of me.
His eyes meet mine, filled with pain and regret. He opens his mouth again, struggling to get the name out.
“Alyssa…” he whispers, his voice rasping like a broken engine. “It’s…”
Before the name escapes his lips, the light drains from his eyes. Dominic’s body goes slack, lifeless in my arms.
I sit there, frozen, my hands stained with blood that’s not mine, feeling the weight of his death settle like a noose tightening around my neck. He knew who the third player was. And now, I’ll never know.
I feel something cold press against my hand-the edge of a folded piece of paper tucked beneath Dominic’s shirt. My heart stutters as I pull it out.
A single line, scrawled in black ink:
“Stop digging, or you’ll be next.”
The words hit me like a slap to the face. This wasn’t just an execution-it was a warning. Someone knew Dominic was going to tell me the truth, and they made damn sure he never got the chance.
I scan the room, heart racing, but there’s no sign of the assassin. Just the eerie silence of an unfinished conversation and the overwhelming sense that I’m being watched.
I stagger to my feet, shaking with adrenaline and terror. I pull my phone from my pocket and hit Isabella’s number. It rings once… twice…
“Pick up, damn it,” I mutter, my breath hitching as I glance back at Dominic’s lifeless body.
On the third ring, Isabella’s voice filters through the line, calm but cautious. “Alyssa?”
“Dominic’s dead,” I say, my voice trembling. “He was about to tell me who the third player is, and someone shot him.”
There’s a pause on the other end of the line, the kind that feels too heavy to be innocent.
“Alyssa, you need to leave. Now.” Isabella’s voice drops into a low whisper. “Whoever did this isn’t far behind. If they find you-”
“Who is it, Isabella?” I interrupt, anger and fear tangling in my chest. “Who’s the third player? Who killed my father?”
She exhales, the sound laced with regret. “I don’t know. But if Dominic had the answer, you can bet the people after him won’t stop until they silence you too.”
I hang up, frustration burning in my chest. I was so close-so damn close. And now I’m standing over a corpse, with only a cryptic warning to guide me.
I stare at the note again, my mind spinning. Stop digging.
But the truth is, I’ve already dug too deep. There’s no turning back now.
I kneel beside Dominic’s body, searching his pockets, hoping for something-anything-that might give me a clue. I find nothing but a cheap lighter and a crumpled receipt from a diner.
It feels like a dead end.
Unless…
I squint at the receipt, noticing the time stamp. It’s from earlier today. Dominic must’ve met with someone right before coming here.
I snap a photo of the receipt with my phone, my mind racing. If I can figure out who he met, I might still have a chance to uncover the truth.
Suddenly, the room feels colder, as though the walls themselves are closing in. I shove the receipt into my pocket and glance one last time at Dominic’s lifeless face.
“I’ll find out who did this,” I whisper, a promise to both him and myself. “No matter what it takes.”
With one last look around the room, I slip out through the back door, every nerve in my body on high alert. Whoever killed Dominic is still out there-watching, waiting.
And I’ve just become their next target.
As I make my way down the alley, my phone buzzes with an incoming message. I glance at the screen-and freeze.
A text from an unknown number.
“You’re closer than you think, Alyssa. But you won’t like what you find.”