The first gunshot shattered the rear window before I even understood we were being followed.

Glass exploded across the leather seats.

Orion threw his enormous body over mine.

“DOWN!” Dante roared.

The SUV swerved violently.

I screamed as another vehicle slammed into our rear bumper.

The bodyguard in the passenger seat shouted something into his radio.

Dante reached across me, pulled a protective panel into place, and pressed me against the floor.

“Stay behind Orion!”

The dog wasn’t barking.

He was perfectly still.

Watching.

Waiting.

That frightened me more than the gunfire.

Our driver turned sharply into an underground parking entrance.

A metal security gate crashed down behind us.

The pursuing car struck it with a deafening bang.

Then everything went silent.

My heart hammered against my ribs.

Dante crouched beside me.

“Are you hurt?”

I shook my head.

“Who were those people?”

His jaw tightened.

“People who should have disappeared a long time ago.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“No,” he said. “It isn’t.”

Twenty minutes later, we arrived at a mansion overlooking the Hudson River.

Tall iron gates opened before our vehicle.

Security cameras followed us along a winding driveway.

The house was enormous.

White marble steps.

Dark windows.

Stone lions guarding the entrance.

It looked less like a home and more like a fortress.

Inside, a woman in her sixties hurried toward us.

She wore a dark blue dress and carried herself with the quiet authority of someone who had spent decades managing powerful people.

“Mr. Moretti!”

Her gaze fell on me.

And she stopped.

The color drained from her face.

“Oh, dear God.”

Dante frowned.

“Rosa?”

The woman raised a trembling hand to her mouth.

“Those eyes…”

I stared at her.

“Do I know you?”

She took one step closer.

Then another.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Olivia Marshall.”

Her expression crumpled.

She began crying.

Dante looked between us.

“Rosa, explain.”

But she was staring at the silver bracelet in my hand.

“Where did you find that?”

I glanced at Dante.

“He gave it to me.”

Rosa sank into a nearby chair.

“I buried that bracelet in my heart twenty years ago.”

Nobody spoke.

Finally, Dante knelt in front of her.

“Rosa. Tell me what you know.”

She shook her head.

“I promised your father.”

“My father is gone.”

“Some promises don’t end when people leave us.”

Dante’s voice hardened.

“Someone tried to kill her twenty minutes ago.”

Rosa looked at me.

Then at Orion.

The dog had followed us inside and was now sitting so close to my legs that his shoulder pressed against my knee.

Rosa whispered something in Italian.

Dante’s expression changed.

“What did you say?”

She pointed at Orion.

“He’s doing what his mother used to do.”

I looked down.

“His mother?”

Rosa nodded slowly.

“Her name was Luna.”

A strange sensation moved through my chest.

Luna.

I knew that name.

I didn’t know how.

But I knew it.

Suddenly, a memory flashed through my mind.

Rain striking a window.

A woman’s voice.

A dog barking.

Someone shouting, “Take Olivia downstairs!”

I staggered backward.

Dante caught my arm.

“Olivia?”

I pressed a hand to my forehead.

“I remember a dog.”

Rosa began crying harder.

“A black dog?”

I nodded.

“She had a white mark beneath her chin.”

Rosa covered her mouth.

Dante looked stunned.

Then he turned to the guards.

“Seal the property. Nobody enters without my authorization.”

He took my hand.

“Come with me.”

He led me through a long corridor lined with portraits.

At the far end stood a locked wooden door.

Dante entered a code.

The lock clicked.

Inside was a child’s bedroom.

Pink wallpaper.

A white rocking horse.

Dust-covered books.

A little wooden bed.

Everything looked untouched.

As though someone had walked out twenty years earlier and never returned.

My chest tightened.

On the wall hung a painting of a black dog beneath a crescent moon.

I stepped closer.

My fingertips brushed the frame.

And suddenly I remembered.

A woman kneeling in front of me.

Her hands gripping my shoulders.

“Olivia, listen carefully. If anything happens, you follow Luna. She knows where to go.”

I stumbled.

Dante caught me again.

“What is it?”

I could barely breathe.

“I’ve been here.”

He went completely still.

“What?”

“I’ve been in this room.”

Rosa appeared in the doorway.

Tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Of course you have, sweetheart.”

I turned toward her.

She whispered, “This was your bedroom.”

The world seemed to tilt beneath my feet.

Dante stared at her.

“That’s impossible.”

Rosa shook her head.

“No, Dante.”

Then she looked directly at him.

“Your father didn’t keep this room because he was grieving someone else’s child.”

Her voice broke.

“He kept it because he was waiting for his daughter to come home.”

I stopped breathing.

Dante’s face went pale.

“His daughter?”

Rosa nodded.

“Olivia is your sister.”

The silence that followed was unbearable.

I looked at Dante.

He looked at me.

Then Orion suddenly rushed toward the bedroom wall.

He scratched furiously at the wooden panel beneath the window.

Once.

Twice.

Again.

Dante stepped forward.

“Orion, stop.”

But the dog refused.

His claws struck the wood.

A hollow sound echoed through the room.

Dante pulled the panel loose.

Behind it was a narrow metal compartment.

Inside sat a small black box.

A digital recorder.

And an envelope.

On the envelope, written in faded blue ink, were five words.

“FOR OLIVIA, WHEN SHE RETURNS.”

Dante picked it up.

His hands were shaking.

But when he opened the envelope, the first sentence made him freeze.

“To my daughter: If you are reading this, the man who raised you has lied about everything.”

I stared at the letter.

Because the man who had raised me was the only father I had ever known.

And he was supposed to have died when I was twelve.