The streets were quiet, but Alessia felt the presence before she saw it.
A sixth sense, sharpened by trauma. Danger had a scent metallic, stale, threaded with desperation.
She turned the corner off Westbourne Lane and slipped into a narrow alley. Shadows spilled across brick walls, the flicker of a dying streetlamp catching her silhouette.
She stopped. Didn't look back.
"You can come out now," she said, voice calm.
For a moment, there was only silence.
Then—footsteps.
Heavy. Slow.
A shape emerged from the dark. A man, thickset and masked, dressed in black. He looked like he belonged in the shadows. His presence sucked the air from the alley.
"Camille sends her regards," he growled.
Alessia turned, eyes steady, shoulders squared.
"Tell her I said thank you for the warm welcome."
He lunged.
His fist didn't land.
A blur shot from the darkness—Lucian. Swift. Brutal.
The attacker staggered back as Lucian slammed him into the wall, one forearm across the throat, the other twisting his arm behind his back. The man let out a sharp cry before collapsing to the ground.
Lucian planted a knee on his spine, leaned close, and whispered:
"Next time… bring flowers."
The man groaned. Lucian glanced at Alessia, chest heaving.
"You okay?"
She nodded, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
"He was sloppy."
Lucian's smile was grim. "Doesn't matter. Camille just declared war."
Elsewhere…
Ethan sat in his office, lights off, the past flickering across his screen.
An old photo. The beach in Corsica. Sunlight on sand. Serena's laughter mid-motion as she reached for the camera. He hadn't looked at it in years—but now, he zoomed in on her neck.
There.
A faint crescent mark, just below her left ear.
He pushed the laptop aside, heart thudding.
Alessia Grey wore her hair to the right. Always.
But once at that museum gala; he'd seen it slip.
And there it was. The same mark.
His fingers trembled.
"No… it can't be."
He stood, pacing. His brain tried to reject it. Deny it. But his gut said otherwise.
The perfume. The voice. The guarded pain behind her eyes.
It wasn't a coincidence.
It was Serena.
Or someone wearing her skin.
At Camille's penthouse…
Glass shattered against the marble.
"He's not answering," she hissed, pacing with a wine glass clenched in her manicured fingers. "And that bastard isn't reporting back."
Her hands shook.
Everything was unraveling.
She stared at her reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. Perfect hair. Lined lips. Designer rage.
But inside? Chaos.
"She was supposed to stay dead."
Her phone buzzed.
A message.
Blocked Number:
Some ghosts don't stay buried.
You should know. You helped kill this one.
The glass slipped from her hand, smashing on the floor like her composure.
She dropped into a chair, breath catching in her throat.
Serena was back.
And she wasn't hiding anymore.
Back at Alessia's apartment…
The ice pack pressed into her bruised shoulder, but she barely flinched.
Lucian stood nearby, arms crossed.
"You could've been killed tonight."
She didn't meet his gaze.
"They're scared. They're desperate. That's when people make mistakes."
He exhaled. "You sure you want to keep going?"
She turned slowly, and this time, her eyes blazed not with fear, but with purpose.
"This isn't about wanting, Lucian. It's about justice."
A beat passed.
Then she whispered, more to herself than to him:
"They buried me. Used me. Watched me bleed. But they never thought I'd rise again."
Lucian moved closer, his voice barely above a breath.
"Then burn them all."
Alessia smiled, but it wasn't kind.
It was the smile of a woman who'd bled for years and finally held the match.
"I'm starting with Camille."
She opened her laptop, pulling up a document she'd prepared for months—bank records, falsified tax filings, coded emails linking Camille to offshore accounts and criminal misappropriation.
But it wasn't just about exposure.
It was about control.
About reminding Camille that Serena's ghost had teeth.
Elsewhere, Ethan booked a flight.
Zurich.
There was a record there. A trust account connected to Elizabeth Vaughn and a "deceased beneficiary" listed as Serena Vaughn.
He needed to know the truth.
And if it was her…
God help them all.