April 18th, 1986 — Los Angeles, United States
Andrea Ferreti's office was a nest of noise and heat. Phones ringing out of sync. Voices seeping in from the hallway like the murmur of a wasp nest. On the desk, newspapers piled high looked like the remains of a dead animal.
With one sharp motion, Andrea swept the pile away, sending it crashing toward Alessandro and Leonardo. Pages scattered across the floor, leaving smears of fresh ink and headlines screaming in bold:
"Prestigious businessman or mafia ringleader"
"Ferreti accused of illicit trafficking"
"Investigation opened over suspicious shipment"
—Where the hell did this shit come from? —Andrea's voice was a low lash, sharper than volume, all blade and no softness.
This wasn't his. He didn't touch otherpeople's merchandise. The headline was a poisoned hook… and he was already biting. In his world, one well-placed rumor could sink you faster than a bullet.
—Calm down —Alessandro said, palms open, like someone approaching a wounded dog that might go straight for the jugular.
Andrea let out a short laugh with no trace of humor.
—Calm down? This is a fucking feast for the police.
—It was the Crows —Leonardo said, leaning against the corner of the desk, flipping through a paper with calculated boredom.
Andrea started pacing. Short steps. Tense. His whole body was wound tight —the kind of movement that came before violence.
—Surprise me.
—It's the perfect trap. And they know it —Alessandro cut in, voice steady.
Andrea turned, eyes burning.
—This is your brother's fault.
Leonardo's eyebrow rose slightly.
—Don't drag Marco into this.
—No? —Andrea stepped forward—. He'd burn an empire to the ground just to watch me fall.
—Not my fault —Leonardo's voice turned to steel— that you don't have a single soul who doesn't dream of seeing you dead. You're so rotten the air in your lungs rots with you.
Andrea stopped. That golden glint in his eyes darkened. Dangerously.
—Say that again.
Leonardo didn't look away.
—The only person who ever loved you was Marco. And even he… left you.
He said it slowly, savoring the blow.
Andrea felt something splinter in his temple. The pressure in his skull pounded like hammers. His alpha instinct spilled out in a single wave —heavy, dense, like a cloud of molten iron.
Two steps, and he was on him. His hand closed around Leonardo's throat, dragging him close until their breaths mixed.
—Say it again… —his voice came out like an obsidian blade.
Leonardo shoved at him, but Andrea didn't move.
—It's. The. Truth.
The air turned unbreathable. Feromones clung to the skin, thick and invasive —a territory claimed by force. Alessandro tried to step between them, but the predatory instinct crushed him too: both Alessandro and Leonardo dropped to their knees, fighting for air.
Andrea saw only Leonardo.
The pressure in his head was seconds from bursting veins. He was a heartbeat away from smashing him into the floor when the door exploded inward.
—Andrea! —Dan Moore's voice cut through the suffocating heat.
White coat. Ice-blue eyes sharp as scalpels. Fast steps. No fear, only urgency.
—Enough! —he ordered, closing the distance.
Andrea barely registered him. His body stayed locked on Leonardo, jaw tight, pulse pounding a war rhythm. Hands gripped him from behind. Voices shouted his name.
Dan didn't ask. The sedative slid into his vein like a rush of ice.
Andrea fought it. His muscles refused to let go. His vision narrowed, edges going black like a closing tunnel.
He fell.
And the last thing he saw were those blue eyes, fixed and unblinking, before the darkness swallowed him whole.
——
Andrea's house was silent.
But it wasn't a peaceful silence.
It was dense, expectant —the kind that hangs in the air after a storm.
Alessandro was sunk deep into one of the leather couches in the living room, the receiver of the black phone pressed to his ear while his eyes followed the marble staircase leading up to the second floor. He was waiting to see Dr. Moore come down.
—So… —Kai Lafaurie's voice crackled through the line— Andrea lost control and nearly went for Leonardo Bianchi? They had to sedate him?
—Yes —Alessandro drummed his fingers against the armrest—. And trust me, Kai… it was worse than you think.
Leonardo's words were still lodged in his head. The interrogation, the rage in his tone, the way he'd taken it as a personal insult that Andrea's pheromones could destabilize two alphas at once. To Leonardo, it had been a public humiliation.
—I don't blame him —Alessandro said—, Andrea's been carrying the weight of the family on his shoulders since he was the youngest. He holds back his instincts so he won't look like a constant threat… always obsessed with proving he can be a wall. But in the end… he's still human. —There was a pause before he added—: Our parents gave him a massive position… just because of what he is.
Soft footsteps echoed upstairs. Alessandro looked up just as Dr. Moore appeared, descending the carpeted stairs with the same surgical calm he seemed to bring straight from the operating room.
—I'll call you later, Kai —he hung up without waiting for a reply.
He stood and waited.
—Andrea's in bad shape —Moore said—. The constant abuse of suppressors and medication to control his pheromones and ruts is damaging his health more than you realize.
Alessandro clenched his jaw.
—What happened today was a minor pheromone clash —Moore continued—. But if he doesn't start taking care of his Enigma alpha condition, next time there won't be a recovery.
The word Enigma landed like lead. That condition that made Andrea's pheromones unique… irresistible, and dangerous all at once. A poisoned gift.
—What can I do? —Alessandro asked.
—He's under too much pressure. And he's stubborn. He refuses to be with omegas, so regulating him will be difficult. For now, he needs complete rest for five days. After that, we'll need to rethink his treatment. —Moore held his gaze—. If his family keeps pushing him like this… Andrea's going to explode. And then, Alessandro, there won't be anything human left in him.
The doctor left, trailing the faint smell of disinfectant and a warning heavy in the air.
Alessandro climbed the stairs in silence. He pushed the bedroom door open.
Andrea was asleep. His face looked calm, but the tension was still etched into the corners of his expression.
He stood still in the doorway, watching him.
When had that crying child who once sought refuge become the head of the family?
They had all piled the responsibility on him… just because he was the Enigma. His father had pushed him into it, and the rest had followed.
He knew Andrea hated Adriana and Lorenzo for not protecting him in his worst moments. And he despised them even more for now living free, happy, without the weight he'd been forced to carry.
—You're safe, brother —Alessandro whispered, running a hand gently through his dark hair, as if afraid to wake him.
Andrea would probably have shoved him away if he'd been conscious. Asleep… he looked younger, almost like the same boy from before.
Alessandro smiled faintly, tinged with sadness, and stood up.
There was work to do… and some Crows to torture.
As long as he was breathing, Andrea would never fall again.
Leonardo was wrong.
Andrea did have someone who loved him.
He had him.