Chapter Five: The Echo of Footsteps

The morning air was thick with tension. Even the sunlight seemed muted, struggling to push through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Dominic's penthouse.

Aria sat in the corner of the lounge, her hands wrapped tightly around a porcelain cup of untouched tea. Her eyes were on the door across the room, the same one Dominic had disappeared behind two hours ago.

He hadn't spoken to her since the discovery of the gun outside the east wing. The silence wasn't just quiet. It was deliberate. Heavy.

She kept playing the scene over in her head. The cold metal in her hand. The look in his eyes when he saw it. The way his voice changed.

Someone had been inside.

And that someone had gotten close enough to leave a weapon behind.

Dominic was furious. But beneath the fury, Aria sensed something more dangerous—fear.

Not for himself.

For her.

The door finally opened and Dominic stepped out, dressed in a dark charcoal suit. His jacket was unbuttoned, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up, revealing a glimpse of the ink that wrapped around his forearms. There was a cut just above his knuckle, raw and fresh, and his expression was tighter than usual.

Behind him trailed Nico, who looked more on edge than usual. His usual cocky demeanor was replaced with grim determination.

"Pack a bag," Dominic said without looking at her.

Aria blinked. "What?"

"You're not staying here."

"Wait. What happened? You said this place was secure."

"It was. Until it wasn't." He turned to face her. "They got inside, Aria. That means one of my own either slipped or sold us out. Either way, I'm not gambling your life."

Her chest tightened. "Where are we going?"

Dominic didn't answer right away. Instead, he turned to Nico. "Get the car. Now."

Nico nodded and left without a word.

Dominic looked back at her, and something in his eyes shifted.

"You'll be safe," he said softly. "I'll make sure of it."

"You keep saying that," Aria whispered. "But every time you do, things get worse."

He didn't flinch. "That's the cost of my world."

"And I didn't ask to be part of it."

"You are now."

She stared at him, heart pounding, but she didn't argue. There was no point. Whatever came next, she would face it head-on.

---

The ride was long and silent. The city turned to suburbs, and then to quiet roads lined with tall trees. Dominic didn't speak once, only stared out the tinted window with the weight of a man who had learned to anticipate betrayal.

Aria sat beside him in the back seat, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. The silence was suffocating. She hated not knowing where they were going, hated being pulled along like a shadow with no agency.

They pulled into a private estate nearly an hour later. The gates opened automatically, revealing a sprawling property surrounded by high hedges and stone walls. There was no sign of guards, but Aria had no doubt they were there. Watching.

Dominic stepped out first and circled around to open her door. She stepped out and glanced at the house in front of them. It was older than his penthouse, more secluded, with ivy creeping up the walls and large oak trees casting deep shadows over the driveway.

"This place looks like it hasn't been touched in years," she muttered.

"That's the point," Dominic said.

Inside, the house smelled like aged wood and secrets. The halls were dim, but clean. The kind of place meant to hide things, not display them.

"You'll stay upstairs," Dominic said as he led her through the hall. "Second room on the left."

"Will you be here?"

He hesitated, then nodded. "For now."

She turned to go but paused.

"Dominic," she said quietly. "Whoever left that gun… what if they weren't trying to kill me?"

He frowned. "What are you saying?"

"What if they were trying to send a message?"

Dominic stared at her for a long moment before responding.

"I already know they were."

She didn't ask what the message was. She wasn't sure she wanted to know.

---

That night, sleep did not come.

Aria lay awake, her eyes fixed on the ceiling, every creak of the old house making her flinch. The silence here was different. Not just quiet, but dead. Like the walls themselves were holding their breath.

She got out of bed and padded down the hallway, careful not to make a sound. She didn't know where she was going. She just knew she couldn't stay still.

The library was near the back of the house. She had seen the door earlier, cracked open just enough to see shelves filled with old leather-bound books.

She pushed it open and stepped inside.

The room smelled of dust and ink. A fireplace lined with black marble sat unused in the corner. The walls were lined with shelves, some filled with books, others with boxes and folders.

She moved toward the far wall, drawn to a photograph sitting alone on a shelf. It was old, the edges frayed. A younger Dominic stood in the middle, flanked by two other men. One looked familiar, though she couldn't place him.

She turned the photo over and saw a name written in faded ink.

Elio Moretti.

She frowned. That wasn't a name she'd heard before.

"Put it back," came Dominic's voice from the doorway.

Aria spun around. "Sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"It's fine," he said, stepping into the room. He took the photo from her hand and stared at it. "Elio was my cousin. He died three years ago. Shot in the back by someone he trusted."

Aria bit her lip. "That why you don't trust anyone now?"

He looked at her, something sharp flashing in his eyes.

"No. I don't trust anyone because I'm still alive."

Before she could reply, his phone buzzed. He answered it without taking his eyes off her.

"Yes."

A pause.

Then his entire body tensed.

"Where?" he asked, his voice low and deadly.

Another pause. Then his hand clenched around the phone so tightly she thought it might crack.

"I'm on my way."

He hung up and looked at her.

"Stay here. Do not open the door for anyone."

"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice rising.

Dominic stared at her.

"They found this place. And they left something at the gate."

Aria's heart dropped. "What did they leave?"

Dominic's jaw tightened.

"Your photograph. Burned around the edges. And a bullet taped to it."

---