"Danny," I try again, moving a little closer, "tell me what's going on. You're scaring me."
He doesn't answer.
The city glows faintly against the glass, his reflection a shadow carved from something I don't recognize.
When he finally turns, there's something broken in his face—regret, fear, something that looks too much like resignation.
"I'm sorry, Isa," he says softly.
Then he raises his hand.
For a heartbeat, I think he's reaching to touch my cheek, the way he did when we were kids.
But the sharp sting that blooms in my neck says otherwise.
"Danny—"
The word barely leaves my lips before the world tilts.
The room slides sideways, color draining from the edges of my vision.
I try to take a step, but my knees don't listen. My fingers slip uselessly against his arm as darkness rushes up to meet me.
The last thing I see is his face—my brother's face—blurred and trembling as he catches me before I hit the floor.
And then everything goesblack.
Chapter 22
Applause roared through the small auditorium, bright and chaotic, the kind of joy that could make a man forget he'd ever learned to bleed.
Sofia took her bow, tiny shoulders straight, grin wide enough to split the room in two. She looked out into the crowd, searching until her gaze found mine, and when she spotted me, she waved like she'd just conquered the world.
My chest swelled—pride, love, and that quiet ache that never really leaves me. I stood and clapped with everyone else, the sound a low, rhythmic thunder in the small, overheated space. My eyes were locked on my little girl, watching her soak in the kind of light I'd spent my whole life trying to give her. The bright, uncomplicated light of a stage, a performance, and a proud father.
For a second, everything felt right. The world beyond this room, with its demands, its betrayals, and its ceaseless violence, ceased to exist. It was just Papà and Principessa.
Then I saw Alessandro at the back of the auditorium.
He wasn't clapping. His hands were clasped in front of him, motionless. His jaw was tight, carved from granite, and his eyes, dark and focused, found mine over the heads of the crowd. His whole body radiated a stillness that was deeply wrong, a professional paralysis that made the air around me turn cold. Whatever he was holding back, it was bad. My own protective reflexes, dormant for the last blissful hour, snapped instantly awake.
The applause faded, slowly dying into murmurs and shuffling feet. The velvet curtain dropped, heavy and final. And the world tilted back into its usual sharp, brutal edges.
Outside the school, the autumn sun was bright but offered little warmth. Sofia's hand was small and warm in mine as we stepped down the front steps. She was still buzzing, skipping slightly with the residual energy of the performance.
"Did I do good, Papà?" she asked, beaming up at me, her eyes shining with the need for my approval.
I crouched slightly, bringing my face close to hers, and brushed a kiss to the top of her head. "You were perfect,Principessa. The best ladybug Princess in the entire world."
Her giggle, bright and pure, cracked something open in me, something that almost felt like peace—until Alessandro's voice cut through it, low and urgent.
"Dante."
I looked up. He was waiting by the polished black car, Rafe standing a respectful distance behind him. Alessandro's face was etched with a grim prognosis. The muscle in his jaw twitched once when our eyes met—a tiny, controlled signal of imminent disaster.
"Rafe found something."
That tone. That look. My gut went cold, twisting itself into a hard knot.
