Aurelio
He hadn't moved in hours.
Aurelio sat in the security surveillance room of his private estate, eyes locked on the glowing screens in front of him. Footage rolled in loops—hallway views, street angles, the hospital entrance. Everything.
Every step Raven made.
Every room Luna entered.
And yet… the threat still felt too close. Like it was inside the walls, breathing the same air, waiting.
He replayed the conversation from the night before. Raven and Isabella, whispering about Cigno Nero. About laundering. About his father's empire.
He'd known his father dabbled in darkness, but this? Using Cero Holdings—a company Aurelio had revived—to cover weapons trades?
It made him sick.
"Sir," Matteo's voice broke through the feed. "You need to see this."
Aurelio turned.
Matteo, his most trusted advisor. The man who had been with him through blood and betrayal. The man who helped rebuild the Santoro empire from ruins.
Aurelio's stomach dropped as Matteo slid a tablet across the table.
An email. Timestamped just an hour ago. Sent from an encrypted server. The attachment—a photo of Luna sleeping in the hospital.
Attached note: Your blood for your sins, Santoro. You always knew the cost.
The room felt like it tilted.
Aurelio's hand clenched the edge of the table.
"This was intercepted before it reached any inbox," Matteo said grimly. "But it was meant for Raven. Someone wants her scared."
"No," Aurelio growled. "They want me distracted. Vulnerable."
His jaw locked. "Raven's not leaving my protection. And neither is Luna. We lock down everything. Nobody leaves. Nobody enters without clearance. And get me every digital trace on that server. Burn through the funds if you have to—I want names."
Matteo nodded. "Understood."
But something flickered in his eyes. Just for a second. Doubt? Hesitation?
Aurelio didn't notice. Not yet.
Raven
Raven paced the garden pathway behind Aurelio's estate. The silence here was unnatural—too pristine, too manicured.
It didn't feel like home. It never would.
But Luna needed peace. And right now, Aurelio was the only one who could give her that.
She remembered the look in his eyes when she'd stepped into the hospital room that morning. Not rage. Not blame.
Just something close to… heartbreak.
Was he mourning the years he lost? The secrets she kept? Or the fact that their daughter looked so much like him it hurt to breathe?
"Your silence is loud."
Isabella's voice drifted in from the side path.
Raven sighed. "I'm tired, Bella."
"You were always the tired one."
They stood quietly for a moment.
Then Raven said, "I think someone's feeding information to the other side."
Isabella turned sharply. "You think there's a mole?"
"I think Cigno Nero knew I'd be back before I did. And whoever leaked Luna's photo to the email server knew exactly where to look. That's not an outside job. That's someone inside."
Isabella swallowed. "You think it's someone working for Aurelio?"
Raven didn't answer.
But the name sat heavy on her tongue.
Matteo.
Matteo
He stood in the wine cellar, hands shaking as he opened the encrypted comms line.
His contact's voice buzzed through the headset.
"She's on high alert. You'll have to move quicker," the voice said.
"I've done everything I can. You promised no harm would come to the girl—"
"Promises are for saints. You're working with devils now, Matteo."
His throat tightened.
He remembered holding Aurelio's mother's hand after the funeral. He remembered standing beside him during the fallout of the Santoro downfall. But this… this had spiraled out of his control.
The man on the line whispered, "The eclipse is nearing. If Aurelio doesn't comply, we'll bury his legacy—starting with her."
Matteo's grip tightened on the comm.
He didn't reply.
He simply cut the line and tossed the device into the fire pit at the end of the cellar. The flames devoured it instantly.
Luna
That night, Luna sat in a sunken reading chair in her new room. A book was open in her lap, but she wasn't reading.
Her mind kept drifting.
To the strange feeling in her chest. Like something was about to break.
Like something was… wrong.
She looked toward the window and gasped.
A figure stood at the edge of the garden. Still. Watching.
Not Aurelio.
Not anyone she recognized.
The figure lifted a hand. Pressed it against the glass from the outside. A single touch.
And then, gone.
She ran from the room, the book slipping from her lap, landing on the floor.
The page she'd stopped on showed a single sentence: Even the moon must fall before the eclipse.