Chapter 65: Mariana's Pov

I sprint down the stairs, my breath ragged and uneven. Each step feels like a countdown, a drumbeat driving me toward the only place I know will give me answers. My fingers skim the banister for balance, but it does little to steady me.

The house feels colder than usual, the air thicker, pressing against me like a warning. I push through it. My heart pounds louder with every step, drowning out the sound of my underfoot padding violently against the floor.

When I reach the bottom, I pause, just for a second, leaning on the wall to catch my breath.

I screech, my fist colliding against my chest. My lungs are burning, my chest constricting so much I can barely breathe. And I cannot tell if it's the pain I feel inside or the physical pain, but I just know I'm so much pain.

It's eating away at me.

My knees almost give out on me and I almost stumble, but I feel firm hands hold me up. I don't need to look to know who it is. Alejandro.

"Mariana. . ." he breathes.

"You lied to me," I whisper, "you lied for them."

His hold on me falters for a quick moment. "You need to stop straining yourself. How will you recover if you don't let yourself recover?"

My lips tremble and a sniffle ripples through me. I twist my neck to the side and hold his face, my face scrunching as I try to hold back my tears. "I stopped needing your fucking opinions the moment I realized you are such a lying coward."

I snatch my arms away from his hands, my determination burning hotter.

My gaze locks onto the end of the hallway, where the massive oak doors to my father's office stand closed.

Closed but never locked.

I move again, slower this time, each step precise, my mind screaming at me to prepare for what I might find. As I reach the doors, I shove them open without knocking.

My father looks up from his desk, startled, his gun immediately pointing at me. When he realizes it's me, he heaves out a calming breath and sets his gun down.

A bitter laugh elicits in my throat, my eyes darting from him to my mother who's sitting beside him looking all tensed up.

"I didn't think you still had the agility in you," I say, stepping forward.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" My father asks, his voice calm, yet laced with bitterness.

The bitterness isn't directed at me, that much I know.

I ignore the formality of his tone. My chest is still constricting, rising and falling erratically. I struggle to steady my voice when I ask, "I'll ask one more time, and I'll be hoping to God the both of you don't lie to me. Where is Mariano?"

Silence.

I've never heard a silence so loud. I've never seen my mother at such an intense edge of unease. I've never seen her straighten her back so quickly.

"Mariano is traveling to see a shipment through," my father says, leaning back in his chair. "You know that."

"Lies, lies, motherfucking lies! You're a fucking liar!" I take a step closer, my fists clenching at my sides. "Where the hell is my brother? Is he dead? If he's dead please tell me, you can't keep this away from me forever. . ."

The room goes still once again. This phase of silence or the last, I can't tell for sure which one takes the cake. But I know this one is the type that wraps around your throat and squeezes.

My father's gaze hardens, his brows twitching, but it's my mother who speaks first.

"Mariana," she begins, her voice low, like she's trying to soothe a frightened child. "You're upset. Let's sit down and-"

"You did this!" I snap, cutting her off. My voice cracks, but I press on. "You did this to our family, to my brother and me! That fucking crime organization of yours has ruined your children and you dare sit here? Beside your husband? What are you trying to do? Placate him? Convince him not to burn the world to the ground for his children?!"

"Firecracker. . ."

It's my father's pleading voice that whooshes through my ears. The voice draws tears from my eyes. I almost falter. But I don't.

"Don't try to stop me, you coward!" I scream, "why aren't you furious at her? Why isn't she. . . why are you letting this happen?"

My voice is shaking violently, tears streaming down my face, the veins in my head and neck straining.

My father exhales sharply, pushing himself to his feet. He walks around the desk, his towering frame making me feel so small and insignificant. "You don't understand the gravity of this. Whatever happens, we need to approach this situation with caution."

"When did you become this person? When has logic ever mattered to Matteo Messina Denaro, huh?" I ask, my voice colder this time, my eyes piercing into his, challenging. "Why are you trying so hard to be a good person? I know you, I've heard of you, everyone in this room and outside of it knows what you are. So why?"

My gaze shifts to my mother whose eyes are filled with tears. I laugh bitterly, my index finger pointing at her. "For her? Are you pretending to be good for her? Just so you can get some pussy at night?"

"Mariana!" Father barks.

"She's worse!" I retort, "I am suffering because of her. Your children are suffering because of her greed, and her desire for revenge. And you, my father, the Matteo Denaro is refusing to burn the world to the ground?"

I snort and sputter my spit onto the ground.

"Shameful. Shame on you. . . both of you."

The corner of my father's mouth curls into a smirk, his eyes raking over me in admiration and pity all at once. "You single handedly took up a mission, went into the home of the most powerful family in all of Russia, and took out the most powerful man in all of Russia. I'm proud, and yet, I fear you lack a better understanding of what you've done."

I got to speak but he puts his hand up and my words push back down.

"One word, that's all it'll take before the entire crime organization of every country is coming at you. And an attack on you, is an attack on me, your mother, your brother, every single person you hold dear. And do you know what will prompt that one word to get out? A single misstep. This is what happens when you meddle in things you don't understand," he says, his voice cold now, each word deliberate.

"Then make me understand," I spit, my body trembling. "Radimir has my brother. Are you just going to stand there and analyze every single thing? Pretend everything's fine? Pretend that we're not being ripped apart from the inside out?"

For a moment, neither of them responds. My mother looks down at her hands, her silence an answer in itself. My father studies me, his jaw tight.

And then, finally, he speaks.

"This isn't your fight, Mariana."

"Like hell, it isn't." My voice rises, echoing in the cavernous office. "You think I'm going to stand by while Radimir tears this family apart? No. I'm done playing that game."

My father's gaze narrows. "What exactly do you intend to do?"

I take a step closer, straightening my spine even though my knees threaten to buckle. "Whatever it takes."

My mother's gasp cuts through the air, but I don't look at her. My focus stays on my father, whose expression shifts-just for a second-into something I can't quite name.

Pride?

Challenge?

It doesn't matter. Because I've already made my choice.

Revenge.

Power.