126
Allesio’s POV
Rosa sat across from me in the library, on the leather sofa, her legs curled under her, a glass of whiskey in her hand. The amber liquid caught the dim light, glowing faintly as she turned it in slow circles. Her hair was loose tonight, falling in soft waves over her shoulders, and the sharpness that usually defined her was muted. Relaxed. Open.
Too open.
“Do you know why my family has lasted this long?” she asked, her voice steady but low, as if she were letting me in on a secret she hadn’t fully decided I was worthy of yet.
I tilted my head, playing the part of the attentive confidant. “I’d guess it has something to do with you.”
She smiled, faint and fleeting, then shook her head. “My father, actually. He’s… ruthless in ways most people can’t even begin to understand.”
It was the first time she’d spoken about him in such candid terms. Usually, she referenced him in passing, as a force to be respected and feared but rarely dissected. This was new, and I knew better than to interrupt.
She set the glass down on the table between us, leaning forward slightly. “He taught me everything I know about power-how to wield it, how to protect it, and most importantly, how to see the cracks in other people’s armor before they see them themselves.”
There was a hint of pride in her voice, but it was tempered with something else. Something heavier.
“It’s a game to him,” she continued. “Every alliance, every deal, every relationship-it’s all just pieces on a board to be moved or sacrificed.”
I nodded slowly, letting her words settle. “And you? Do you see it the same way?”
Her gaze flickered to mine, and for a moment, I thought she might dodge the question. But then she exhaled, a soft, weary sound. “I used to. I had to. It’s the only way to survive in this world.”
“And now?”
“Now…” She hesitated, her eyes dropping to her hands. “Now I wonder if it’s worth it.”
The vulnerability in her voice was like a knife to the gut. This was what I’d been waiting for, what Alaric would have killed to hear. And yet, the thought of using it against her made my stomach churn.
Before I could respond, she straightened, a flicker of her usual composure returning. “Anyway, the point is, my father’s methods have kept us ahead of the game for decades. But it’s not just him. We have… contingencies in place. Systems that ensure no matter what happens, the Smiths stay in control.”
I leaned forward slightly, feigning casual curiosity. “What kind of systems?”
She glanced at me, her expression unreadable. “Are you sure you want to know?”
There it was-the moment of truth. If I pushed too hard, she’d shut down, and the walls she’d spent years building would snap back into place. But if I played it right…
I shrugged, keeping my tone light. “Only if you want to tell me.”
She studied me for a long moment, and I forced myself to hold her gaze, to let her see whatever she needed to see to convince herself I was worth trusting. Finally, she sighed and leaned back against the sofa, her guard slipping just a little more.
“We control the ports,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Not just the ones here, but along the entire eastern corridor. Everything that comes in or out-drugs, weapons, people-it all moves through us. The Portelli syndicate might handle the docks, but they answer to us. They just don’t know it.”
My heart pounded in my chest, the weight of her words sinking in. This was it-the leverage Alaric had been searching for. The Smiths weren’t just powerful; they were untouchable. Their control over the ports meant they had a stranglehold on the flow of goods and information, and anyone who wanted to challenge them would be fighting a losing battle.
But it wasn’t just the information itself that hit me. It was the way she said it-like it wasn’t a boast, but a burden. Like the weight of her family’s empire was crushing her, piece by piece.
“Does that bother you?” I asked, keeping my voice low.
She looked at me, startled. “What do you mean?”
“Knowing how much control you have. How many lives depend on the decisions you make.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, I thought she might shut me out. But then she sighed, her shoulders slumping. “It’s not about control. It’s about survival. If we don’t do it, someone else will. And they’ll be worse. Crueler. Less careful.”
It was the same justification I’d heard a hundred times before, from a hundred different people. But coming from her, it felt different. More honest.
I nodded, as though I understood. And maybe I did, in a way. But it didn’t make it any easier to reconcile what I had to do.
The room fell into silence, the only sound the faint hum of the city beyond the windows. Rosa reached for her glass again, taking a slow sip before meeting my gaze.
“Why do you care, anyway?” she asked, her tone light but her eyes sharp.
I hesitated, the weight of the moment pressing down on me. “Because I care about you.”
It was the truth, but not the whole truth. And judging by the way her expression softened, she believed it.
“Don’t,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t make me believe you mean that.”
I swallowed hard, my chest tightening. This was the closest she’d come to acknowledging the unspoken feelings between us, the thing neither of us was willing to fully confront.
But before I could respond, she stood, her movements graceful but purposeful. “It’s late. We should call it a night.”
I nodded, following her lead. But as I watched her walk away, her shoulders straight but her steps just a little too measured. I felt like I had crossed a line yet again.
I had what I needed. Alaric would be thrilled, and the pieces of his plan would start falling into place. But as I stood there, alone in the quiet of the study, the victory felt hollow.
Because for the first time since this mission began, I wasn’t sure if I could go through with it.