Juliet stood at the edge of her parents' graves, the cold wind slicing through her coat as if it, too, sought to carve away the weight in her chest. The names etched into stone gleamed beneath the pale morning light. Inspector Angelo Moretti. Detective Elena Moretti. Loyal to justice until their final breath.
Adonis waited a few steps behind her, hands in his pockets, silent.
She hadn't said a word since they left the loft. She'd asked him to bring her here before they made their next move. No matter how close they got to the truth, the ache never dulled. And today, with Giovanni's empire trembling under the weight of their discoveries, that ache had evolved into something sharper—like anticipation mixed with dread.
Juliet finally spoke, her voice raw. "They were good people. Not perfect, but good. They believed Milan could be better."
Adonis stepped beside her. "They didn't die for nothing."
Juliet didn't look at him. "If Giovanni killed them… if your father gave the order… I don't know what I'll do."
He didn't try to comfort her with lies. "Then we find the truth. And we deal with it. Together."
She turned toward him, her expression unreadable. "And after that? What happens to us?"
He hesitated. He hadn't thought that far ahead. Maybe he couldn't afford to. His life had been a loop of revenge, purpose-driven solitude, and broken trust. But standing next to Juliet now, his answer wasn't as simple as silence.
"I don't know," he said. "But I want to live long enough to find out."
She blinked, caught off guard by his honesty. She gave a small nod, turned back to the grave, and whispered something so quietly, he couldn't hear. But the wind seemed to carry it into the earth.
Then, without another word, they left.
The trap was set by nightfall.
Adonis's contact—Luca, a reformed thief with a knack for bugs and surveillance—had tracked a Giovanni shipment headed to a small club near Navigli. According to intercepted messages, Giorgio Giovanni himself would be there, celebrating an arms deal with foreign clients. That alone was enough to make Adonis suspicious.
"He never leaves his compound," Adonis muttered as he loaded a small pistol. "If he's showing his face now, it's either a trap—or an opportunity."
Juliet checked the blade strapped to her thigh. "Let's assume both."
They arrived at the club dressed like shadows. Juliet wore all black—tight, silent, unassuming. Adonis in a sleek charcoal suit that hugged his frame like armor. His pistol was hidden under his jacket, a silencer screwed on tight. She carried two—one on her hip, the other strapped at her ankle.
Inside, the club pulsed with low music and even lower morals. Men in tailored suits and glittering watches lounged around women draped in designer and danger. Juliet scanned the crowd.
"There," she said, nodding toward the VIP section above the dance floor.
Giorgio Giovanni.
Older now, but no less imposing. Silver hair slicked back, eyes cold and empty. He laughed with the men around him, drink in hand, unaware that the ghosts of his past had just entered the building.
Adonis's jaw tightened.
He saw blood. Ten years of it. Ten years of betrayal, of silence, of watching his mother die while his father turned his back on him. All for that man.
But this wasn't the moment for rage. It was the moment for strategy.
They moved through the crowd like currents, unnoticeable but magnetic. As Juliet made her way toward the back stairwell, Adonis slipped into the hallway that ran behind the VIP lounge. He pulled out the bug Luca had given him and attached it beneath the vent near the lounge ceiling.
The feed came through clean on Juliet's earpiece.
Giorgio's voice crackled.
"…shipment arrives Tuesday. Make sure the documents are forged. We don't need Moretti's girl sniffing around."
Juliet's fingers clenched the railing. Her face went blank, voice cold. "He knows I'm close."
Adonis's voice came in low. "Then we make it even closer."
She moved swiftly, slipping into the VIP floor unnoticed. She took a seat at the bar a few feet away from the private lounge. Giorgio hadn't seen her yet. She ordered a drink, pretending to be just another nightwalker in search of pleasure.
When the drink arrived, she slid it away.
And then she stood.
She walked straight into Giorgio's line of sight.
His eyes widened—just for a moment—before he forced a smile.
"Detective Moretti," he said smoothly. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Juliet stood tall, hands at her sides but alert. "Let's cut the theatrics. I know you were involved in my parents' murder."
Gasps murmured around the table. One of Giorgio's men stood, but the mafia boss lifted a hand.
"Careful, bella," he said. "Accusations like that could get you killed."
"Funny," she said, "that's exactly what I'm here for."
Before anyone could move, Adonis was already there—gun drawn, pointed squarely at Giorgio's heart. His arrival was silent, his aim was not.
The room froze.
"You remember me, don't you, old man?" he said. "Adonis De Luca. The one you framed."
Giorgio's smile faded.
Juliet pulled her badge from her coat, flashing it like a blade. "This club is now under investigation. Anything you say or do from this point on—"
"Won't matter," Adonis finished, "because your empire's about to collapse."
Sirens rang out in the distance.
Luca had sent the location to the police.
Giorgio's face twisted in rage as armed officers stormed in moments later. His men reached for their weapons but were tackled to the ground. Adonis stepped back, lowering his gun only when Giorgio was cuffed.
As the mafia boss was dragged away, Juliet turned to Adonis.
"That was risky."
He shrugged. "That's kind of our thing now."
They stepped outside into the cool night. For the first time in a long time, Juliet felt the city breathe differently—like something had shifted.
The hunt wasn't over.
But tonight, they'd won a battle.
And side by side, they were becoming something Milan hadn't seen in years—
Hope.