CH - 31

CH - 31
Isabella POV

The moon hangs low, blood-orange and bloated, like it knows tonight something dies.

We move through the abandoned opera house in complete silence—Cassian’s crew flanking the sides, Marco on point, Dante at my back like a phantom.

This place used to be all glitter and gold, velvet seats and whispered sins. Now it’s just rot and shadow. A fitting tomb for Selene.

I grip my pistol tighter.

Every breath is a countdown.

Every step drags me closer to her.

To the end of this war.

Dante leans in, voice a rasp behind me. “Two heat signatures. Balcony. They’re watching.”

I nod once.

We keep going.

Ahead, the grand chandelier hangs by a single rusted chain, swaying gently as if caught in an invisible breeze.

Its crystals catch the dim light, scattering fractured rainbows across the room like shattered promises.

A cracked mirror on the far wall reflects our ghosts—not just mine and those who stand with me, but shadows of everything this place has swallowed whole.

My breath catches for a moment; I can almost see them staring back at us, whispering warnings we’re too late to heed.

The stage looms beyond—its once-majestic frame now draped in moth-eaten curtains that hang limply, their tattered edges brushing against blood-stained boards warped from years of neglect.

Every step forward feels heavier than the last, each creak beneath my boots echoing through the cavernous space like the groans of something alive, something watching, waiting.

And then I see her.

Standing at the center of it all, cloaked in crimson light so deep it seems to drink in the darkness around her...

Selene.

Alive. Drenched not just in power, but in defiance. She’s radiant, terrifying—a queen unbroken even here, surrounded by ruin.

Her very presence commands the air, thickening it until it presses against my chest, making every breath feel stolen.

But she’s not alone.

Beside her, Veritas crouches low, poised like a loyal hound ready to strike.

His eyes gleam with feral hunger, his lips curled into a snarl that exposes teeth sharper than any predator’s.

He doesn’t move, but there’s no mistaking the menace rolling off him in waves.

And to her left—

Aria.

Her transformation hits me harder than I expect. Her hair is slicked back sleek and severe, framing a face stripped bare of warmth or mercy. Those eyes… cold, calculating, empty. She wears De Luca black like armor, every inch of her screaming allegiance to Selene’s cause. My stomach twists. This isn’t betrayal—it’s annihilation. 

I stop dead in my tracks, the men behind me fanning out instinctively, weapons raised but trembling slightly. None of us are ready for what stands before us.

Selene tilts her head ever so slightly, studying me like one might examine an insect pinned to a board. “Belladonna,” she purrs, her voice smooth as silk yet laced with venom. “At last.”

My heart stutters, skipping beats before pounding wildly against my ribs. My hands tighten around the hilt of my blade, knuckles whitening.

“This ends tonight,” I force out, my voice steadier than I feel. But even as the words leave my lips, doubt flickers at the edges of my resolve.

Selene smirks, slow and deliberate, like she knows exactly how much weight these moments carry. Like she’s been waiting for this dance since the beginning. “Oh, darling,” she says softly, almost tenderly. “It hasn’t even begun, and you’re right. But whose ending, I wonder?”

Aria steps forward. A silver blade in one hand.

A De Luca crest pendant in the other.

My pendant.

Dante’s hand touches my lower back—steadying. Wordless.

Selene turns to Aria. “Blood betrays blood, unless it remembers who it serves. Show her.”

The command lands heavy. Aria lifts the blade… and points it at me.
I don’t flinch.

“Aria,” I say. “You don’t have to do this. Selene’s used both of us—twisted our names, our blood. But we’re not her puppets.”
Something flickers in her eyes.
Veritas tenses, sensing her hesitation.
And then—

A gunshot.

Aria jerks as the bullet grazes her shoulder—fired from the rafters. Marco’s voice booms, “She’s compromised!”
Chaos erupts.

Cassian’s men open fire. Veritas lunges at Dante, both of them crashing into the orchestra pit with a grunt. I race up the stage stairs, heart in my throat, eyes on Selene.

She doesn’t run.
She smiles wider.

“You’re just like your mother,” she breathes, raising a blade of her own. “Pretty. Stupid. And tragically loyal.”
I strike first.

Steel clashes. We dance in shadows and spite. Her blade slices my cheek. Mine draws blood from her thigh.

She’s fast—poison-quick—but I fight like a woman with nothing left to lose. Like a De Luca.
Selene stumbles. I press the gun to her heart.

“Any last words?”

Her lips curve in a final whisper.

“Your father lied to you… about everything. Even about the child.”

Bang.

I fire once.

She collapses, blood pooling across the cracked marble.

Behind me, I hear a groan—Dante dragging himself upright, bloodied but alive. Veritas lies unmoving nearby, unconscious or dead. Cassian’s men secure the area.
It’s over.
The war is over.

And yet… I can’t breathe.
I stare at Selene’s body. At the smear of blood from Aria’s shoulder on the stage. At the way Dante looks at me like I might shatter.
Because she didn’t say which child.

Mine? Aria? Someone else?

Behind me, footsteps.
Aria stands there, shaking.

“I didn’t fire,” she says quietly. “I didn’t choose her.”
I don’t reply. Not yet.
She reaches into her jacket—and tosses something to the ground.

A phone. Burner. One missed message.

A video recording.

I pick it up and press play.

My father appears onscreen. Alive. Gaunt. Eyes haunted.

“If you’re watching this, you’ve survived Selene. Good. Because now it gets worse.”
“I’ve done terrible things, Isa. To keep you safe. To protect our name. But there are more secrets than you know. More bloodlines than you understand. And the greatest threat isn’t behind you—it’s coming.”
“I’ll send for you. When it’s safe.”

The screen cuts to black.
I stare at the flickering glow in my palm.
Dante limps over, his voice low and sharp. “What the hell was that?”

I meet his eyes.
“I think my father’s still playing games.”

Cassian approaches, blood streaked across his shirt. “We need to clear out. Too much noise. Feds will circle.”
I nod absently, still watching the darkened screen. My heart pounds harder than it did facing Selene. My thoughts aren’t on the dead anymore.
They’re on what comes next.

As we start to move out, the opera house collapsing into distant sirens and scorched echoes, Aria walks beside me. She’s quiet.
But as we reach the exit, she murmurs one thing:
“Isabella… you might want to check your mail.”

We step into the cold night.
And waiting on the hood of our getaway car, under the glow of a flickering streetlight…
…is a velvet envelope.
I tear it open.

Inside—
A blood-marked document.
And a single, grainy ultrasound image.

At the bottom of the page, scrawled in the handwriting I thought I’d never see again—

“One of you carries my true heir.”