Chapter 79 - I Wasn’t Ready To Die
Chapter 79 - I Wasn’t Ready To Die
Lucia’s POV
311 Edgewater Boulevard didn’t look like a place where answers lived.
The building was old, bruised by time and neglect. The metal railing along the porch was rusted. Lights in the hallway flickered like they were clinging to life. But the door wasn’t locked.
I slipped inside.
I was told to “ask for M,” but what if it was a setup?
The smell hit first—dust, cheap cologne, old electricity. A mess of wires, drives, and two crooked monitors were scattered across the desk. Whoever lived here didn’t believe in organization. Or safety.
I spotted a folder on the desk, unlabeled, and a worn laptop sitting open in sleep mode. I tapped the spacebar.
Locked.
Of course.
My chest tightened with panic. I didn’t have time.. What if someone caught me?
I yanked open the desk drawer, rifled through pens, old receipts, nothing useful. Then I dropped to my knees and felt along the underside of the keyboard.
Please. Please.
My fingers grazed the edge of a sticky note. I pulled it off, squinting at the faded writing, then quickly typed the password into the laptop.
“V8ru$G4briel.”
Unlocked.
The desktop was chaos. But one folder blinked in the corner like it had been opened recently: Surveillance_Backlog.
I clicked it.
There were dozens of video files, all time-stamped. One matched the night of the fire that killed Dante’s parents.
So I opened it.
The camera was fixed on the east wing of the Romano estate. The footage was black and white, grainy, but the angle gave a clear view of the back entrance. For a moment, nothing moved. Just trees swaying and a light flickering in a top window.
Then a man entered the frame.
Same man with broad shoulders. Face partially turned, caught in the wash of a floodlight.
He looked like a stranger but moved like he belonged.
He paused by the east door, looked over his shoulder, then vanished into the building.
Exactly three minutes later, smoke began to bleed into the upper right corner of the footage.
Then—flames.
I paused the video.
My hands were cold. He walked in… and then the fire started. It wasn’t just an accident. It was a setup.
I kept digging.
Back to the desktop. Another folder caught my eye this time: Repayment_Proof.
Inside were dozens of messages. Text logs. Transaction screenshots. Threats. One in particular chilled me.
Gabriel Rucci:
“You want the debt cleared? You burn the fucking house. Make it look like the grid snapped. You’re the damn engineer. Figure it out.”
Massimo:
“And the people inside?”
Gabriel Rucci:
“Collateral. They were never supposed to last this long anyway.”
My mouth went dry. They weren’t just collateral. They were erased, burned like they were nothing.
I didn’t know how to tell Dante. I didn’t know how not to.
Massimo. An electrical engineer.
Gabriel Rucci. A name I didn’t recognize, but I would. He was the thread unraveling everything. He’d arranged the fire. And covered it up.
My hands flew across the keyboard as I copied every file, every image, every scrap of evidence onto my flash drive.
I was almost done.
Almost.
Then I heard it.
The front door creaked.
A footstep. Then another.
Shit.
The apartment wasn’t big. No more than two rooms and a kitchen. There wasn’t time to get out.
I crawled behind the desk, tucking myself beneath it, heart hammering so loud I was sure they’d hear it through the walls.
A man entered.
Boots.
Slow, heavy.
He cursed under his breath. I could hear the rattle of metal as he flicked something…. a gun.
He knew someone had been here.
I held my breath—because I already knew what came next. And I wasn’t ready to die.