Chapter 1 — Shattered Peace
Alexia
The textbook lay open on my desk, untouched for the past twenty minutes. I stared at the same line of equations, the letters and numbers blurring together like a cruel joke. The universe had always been my sanctuary, its vastness a comfort I could retreat into. But tonight, even the stars felt unreachable, as if the very cosmos had turned its back on me. A heavy silence pressed against the walls of my tiny apartment, broken only by the occasional city noise filtering in through the cracked window. The faint smell of coffee still lingered in the air, but it was cold now, forgotten.
The knock at the door jolted me upright. Three sharp raps. My stomach twisted. It was late—too late for anyone to be stopping by unannounced. Slowly, I stood, my bare feet padding across the worn carpet, each step pulling me deeper into unease.
“Who is it?” My voice wavered despite my best effort to sound firm.
“Alexia, it’s me.”
Emmanuel. Relief flooded me, but confusion quickly followed. My brother rarely visited, and never without calling first. Something was wrong. I unlatched the chain and opened the door, only to find his unmistakable green eyes darting down the hallway behind him. His broad shoulders filled the doorway, his sharp suit as out of place as a wolf in a library.
“Can I come in?” he asked, already stepping past me.
“You don’t wait for an answer anymore?” I snapped, closing the door behind him. His suit brushed against the edge of my couch, a stark contrast to the threadbare fabric and the academic clutter of books and papers scattered across the room.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he turned to me, his jaw set tight, tension radiating from every inch of him. “Pack a bag.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Pack a bag, Alexia. Now.”
“Excuse me? You can’t just—”
“They’re coming for you.”
The air in the room seemed to thin. “What are you talking about?”
“Landon Moretti,” he said, his voice low and clipped, but his eyes betrayed the tension simmering beneath. “He’s not just coming for the family. He’ll use you to make his move.”
I stared at him, uncomprehending. “I thought you said our family’s ties to the mafia were just... distant. Something from the past. You told me I’d never have to worry about any of this.”
“I lied.”
The simplicity of his confession hit me like a punch to the gut. My legs threatened to give out, but I steadied myself against the arm of the couch. “You lied?”
“Alexia, I don’t have time to explain everything. Just trust me. You’re not safe here.”
“Trust you?” A bitter laugh escaped before I could stop it. “The same brother who told me to run from this life and now drags me right back into it?”
His gaze softened for a split second, guilt flashing in his eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. “I didn’t want you involved. I tried to keep you out, believe me. But Moretti knows about you. He knows you’re my sister. That makes you a target.”
The desperation in his voice gave me pause. Emmanuel was always the calm one, the one who found reason in chaos. To see him like this—taut, frayed, afraid—sent a shiver through me.
“And where exactly am I supposed to go?” I asked, crossing my arms to hide the tremor in my hands.
“To someone who can protect you.”
“Who?”
His hesitation was all the answer I needed. “No.” I stepped back, shaking my head. “Not him. Not Lonzo Mattia.”
“Alexia—”
“No!” My voice rose, cracking under the weight of my fear. “You think I don’t know who he is? What he is? I’ve spent my entire life trying to stay out of this world, Emmanuel. You told me to stay out of it. And now you want me to throw myself into it?”
“It’s not a choice,” he said, his tone hardening. “Do you think I want this for you? Do you think I want to hand my little sister over to someone like him? But this isn’t about what we want. It’s about survival. And Lonzo’s the only one who can guarantee that.”
The word—survival—seemed to echo in the silence that followed, heavy and unyielding. My defiance faltered, but anger took its place, burning hot and sharp in my chest.
“I’m not a pawn in your mafia games,” I spat, but even as I said it, I knew the fight was draining out of me. Emmanuel wouldn’t be here, wouldn’t be this frantic, if he didn’t believe the danger was real.
His shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, as if he’d sensed my surrender. “You’re not a pawn, Alexia. But you’re not safe here.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. My gaze flicked to the desk, where my star chart necklace rested atop a stack of papers. My fingers hovered over it before slipping it into my bag—a small piece of myself, a reminder of the life I was leaving behind. A life that felt impossibly far away.
“Fine. But if this goes sideways—”
“It won’t.” His hand gripped my shoulder, firm but not harsh. “Now pack.”
*
The car ride was silent, save for the hum of the engine and the occasional crackle of the radio. Emmanuel drove with a single-minded focus, his knuckles white against the steering wheel. I sat stiffly in the passenger seat, my duffel bag balanced across my knees. My life, reduced to one bag in under five minutes.
The city lights blurred past, muted and distorted by the thick fog rolling in from the river. Shadows shifted in the gloom, and the occasional wail of a siren cut through the oppressive quiet. I’d always loved the way the city looked at night—a chaotic mix of neon and shadow. But tonight, it felt suffocating, the darkness seeping into my skin.
“Why Landon? Why now?” I asked, breaking the silence.
“Because he’s desperate,” Emmanuel said, his voice low, almost a growl. “Lonzo’s keeping him cornered, but Moretti’s unpredictable. He’s lashing out, looking for leverage, and he’s found it in you.”
The words settled heavy in my chest. “This is why you pulled away. All those years you told me not to ask questions, to stay out of it. You knew this could happen.”
“Yes,” he admitted quietly. “And I’d do it all over again if it meant keeping you safe.”
I stared out the window, my reflection a pale, hollow ghost in the glass. “And what happens when we get there?”
“You’ll stay under his protection. Do what he says, Alexia. Don’t argue, don’t push boundaries. He doesn’t tolerate insubordination.”
I snorted. “He’s not my boss.”
Emmanuel’s jaw tightened, his knuckles straining against the wheel. “Let’s get one thing straight. Lonzo isn’t someone you challenge. He’s not like me. He doesn’t care about your defiance or your independence. Cross him, and you’ll regret it.”
The warning hung in the air between us, a heavy, unspoken truth.
*
The estate was exactly what I expected—cold, grand, and unwelcoming. The driveway stretched endlessly, lined with ancient oaks whose gnarled branches clawed at the foggy sky. The mansion loomed ahead, its gray stone walls stark and imposing. Lights glowed faintly from within, but they did nothing to soften the building’s sharp lines and harsher edges.
A man in a tailored suit greeted us at the door, his face impassive as he stepped aside to let us in. The interior was even more intimidating—marble floors that gleamed under crystal chandeliers, high ceilings that made me feel small, and a stillness that felt almost alive.
“Wait here,” Emmanuel said, nodding toward a sitting room off the main hall.
Before I could argue, he disappeared through a set of double doors, leaving me alone in the cavernous space. I perched on the edge of a leather armchair, my knees bouncing nervously, my gaze wandering to the towering bookshelves lining one wall. Each shelf was filled with pristine volumes, their spines uniform and untouched, as though they had never been opened.
The sound of footsteps—deliberate, measured—snapped me out of my thoughts. I turned toward the doorway, my breath catching as he walked in.
Lonzo Mattia.
He was taller than I’d imagined, his presence commanding and cold. Dark hair perfectly styled, a faint scar cutting through his left eyebrow, and those piercing gray eyes that seemed to dissect me in a single glance. He wore a three-piece suit in dark charcoal, every detail immaculate. A heavy black ring adorned his finger, the etched serpent gleaming faintly in the light.
“Miss Dalton,” he said, his voice smooth but laced with ice. “Welcome.”
The word felt more like a warning than a greeting.
I stood, refusing to let him see my unease. “This wasn’t my idea.”
His lips quirked in something that might have been amusement, though it disappeared as quickly as it came. “I gathered as much.”
Emmanuel appeared behind him, his expression unreadable. “Lonzo, this is my sister, Alexia.”
Lonzo’s gaze locked onto mine, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe. There was something in his eyes—a flicker of something I couldn’t name—before it vanished, replaced by cold calculation.
“You’ll follow my rules,” he said, each word precise, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Your safety is my responsibility now. Whether you like it or not.”
I lifted my chin, forcing steel into my voice. “And if I don’t?”
The corner of his mouth twitched, but his eyes remained cold. “You’ll wish you had.”
I swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing down on me. This was my new reality. And I had a sinking feeling it was only the beginning.
