The Sister's Warning

Sophia Torrino POV

Luca's gun stays trained on my chest, but the tremor in his grip tells me Vincent's conditioning is cracking. Standing in this hallway feels like walking through my own grave—every shadow holds memories I've spent fifteen years trying to weaponize.

"Vincent hasn't just been lying to you," I tell them, my voice steadier than my pulse. "He's been editing your minds regularly. The headaches you can't explain, the gaps in childhood memories—he's been refreshing the memory wipes whenever you showed signs of remembering too much."

Dante shifts position, weapon steady but his eyes sharp with that calculating look I remember from when we were children. "Prove it."

I reach slowly into my vest, ignoring the way three guns track my movement. The photograph is creased from years of hiding, but the image is clear—five children in a garden, arms around each other like real siblings. Isabella in the center, me beside her, the four Romano boys surrounding us protectively.

"This was taken two months before they separated Isabella and me." I toss the photo toward Luca's feet. "She was eight. I was nine. Marco was thirteen and already in that wheelchair, not from an enemy's bullet but from Vincent's first failed experiment with bone density enhancement."

The silence stretches like a held breath. I can see recognition flickering in their eyes—faces they know but can't place, emotions without context.

"That's impossible," Nico says, but he's staring at the photograph like it might bite him.

"Is it? Then explain why Marco's legs responded to Isabella's touch when no medical treatment ever worked. Explain why Luca knew exactly how to calm her panic attacks. Explain why Dante can read her emotional states like they're written in his own handwriting."

The truth about my escape burns in my throat. I wasn't transferred to another facility like I told them—I ran. Eleven years old and terrified, but smart enough to fake my own death during a procedure. Smart enough to let Vincent think his problem was solved while I disappeared into Chicago's underground.

Isabella reaching for me through the laboratory glass as Vincent's men dragged me away for "testing." Both of us screaming, clawing at the barrier between us. "Sophia! Don't leave me!" she begged. I promised I'd come back for her.

I lied. I saved myself and left her behind.

"What do you want?" Dante asks, his psychological training making him harder to manipulate than his brothers.

"To warn Isabella about Vincent's real plan." The words taste like acid. "He's dying. Pancreatic cancer, maybe six months left. But he's not planning to die."

Luca's finger shifts on the trigger. "Meaning?"

"He wants to transfer his consciousness into Isabella's body. Complete possession of an enhanced individual in her prime." I watch their faces process this. "Every healing session has been building toward that goal—strengthening her neural pathways, expanding her psychic abilities, preparing her mind to host another consciousness."

The jealousy I've carried for fifteen years rises like bile. Even dying, Vincent still sees Isabella as his prize. Still ignores the daughter who survived his experiments through cunning and rage.

"That's science fiction," Nico protests.

"Is it? You've seen what Isabella can do—heal wounds, sense pain, connect psychically with her patients. Vincent's been pushing those abilities deliberately, testing her limits." I pull out another document, unfold it with shaking hands. "This is her medical file from age seven. Electroshock therapy, experimental drugs, forced psychic connections with dying subjects. All designed to break down the barriers between her consciousness and others."

Dante steps forward, studies the paperwork with clinical interest. His face goes pale.

"These procedures would have killed most children," he says quietly.

"They did kill other children. Isabella survived because she's stronger than Vincent ever anticipated. Stronger than he deserves." The admission tears at something inside me. "She was always the successful one. The one who mattered."

Seven-year-old me watching Isabella heal a bird with broken wings while Vincent took notes. "Remarkable," he murmured. "The girl has exceeded all projections." He never looked at me that way, not once.

"So why come here?" Luca asks. "Why risk everything to warn us?"

Because she was my sister before she was your obsession. Because I've spent fifteen years planning Vincent's destruction, and Isabella is the key to everything. Because love and hatred can coexist in the same heart, feeding off each other like parasites.

"Because Vincent's not content with just Isabella anymore," I say instead. "He wants all of his enhanced children back under his control. That includes me."

A soft footstep sounds behind Luca—so quiet I almost miss it. Training kicks in, and I start to shout a warning, but it's too late.

Rosa appears like a ghost, pressing a gun against the base of Luca's skull. The sweet, maternal woman who brought Isabella comfort transforms before our eyes—face cold, movements precise, every trace of warmth evaporated.

"Weapons down," Rosa says, her voice carrying a authority that makes my blood freeze. No trace of the gentle accent she used around Isabella. "Mr. Romano is ready to see his guests."

Dante and Nico hesitate, weapons still raised, but Rosa presses her gun harder against Luca's neck.

"I've been Vincent's eyes and ears in this house for three years," she continues conversationally. "Every healing session has been recorded. Every conversation between Isabella and the brothers has been analyzed. Vincent knows exactly how strong her abilities have become."

My mind races. Three years. Rosa has been here since before Isabella's arrival, which means...

"You've been preparing for this reunion," I whisper.

Rosa's smile is winter incarnate. "Vincent never stopped looking for his lost children. Finding Isabella was always the plan—bringing her home was just the first step." She looks directly at me, and I see Vincent's calculating coldness reflected in her eyes. "Hello, Sophia. Father has missed you terribly."

The word 'father' hits like a physical blow. Not Vincent. Not her employer.

Father.

Rosa isn't just Vincent's spy. She's another enhanced child, another survivor of his experiments. Another daughter he twisted into a weapon.

And we walked right into her trap.