CHAPTER 265: LYSE. BRANDON. LEVI

The last of the mourners had filtered out out of the room, leaving behind a quiet that felt intrusive, like silence had taken on mass and weight. The chapel lights had dimmed to a muted glow, and only the soft clink of glass and the shuffle of shoes on marble echoed from the adjoining room where the wake had concluded.

Outside, under a narrow stone archway that jutted from the chapel wall like a lip over the night, Luca lit a cigarette with hands that trembled just slightly at the knuckles. The lighter’s flame briefly caught in his eyes, casting a fleeting gold over the green flecks in his irises before vanishing into the cold air.

Beside him stood Conrad Rhodes, one of the freelance photographers who had floated like a vulture in and out of the entertainment world, skimming stories from the edges of scandals and secrets. But Conrad had known Danny, really known him. At least as well as anyone could.

"Feels weird without his voice, doesn’t it?" Conrad said, exhaling a stream of smoke that curled between them. "That bastard had a laugh like a chainsaw, remember?"

Luca managed a smile, but it was shallow. "He had to always laugh too loud at his own jokes."

"Especially the ones that got him punched," Conrad added with a half-laugh of his own. Then, quieter: "I still can’t believe he’s gone. Just like that. No fanfare, no drama, just... dead."

Luca didn’t respond immediately. His eyes were cast down the gravel path that led into the streetlights beyond the chapel gates, as if trying to spot some echo of Danny lingering in the air.

"I got a job this morning," Conrad said after a moment, flicking ash to the cobblestones. "Made me think of him, actually."

"What kind of job?"

Conrad took another drag before answering. "Tip came in. Lyse Spade and Brendan Marlowe. Romantic dinner, hush-hush. should be able to get some nice photos of them leaving, possibly snag a couple shots of them kissing."

Luca turned to look at him, brows slightly drawn. "Lyse and Brendan? I thought she was still with Levi Van Doren."

"Nah, that died some weeks ago. You don’t remember?" Conrad asked, brows rising. "Danny’s the one who blew that wide open. Snapped pulling into her friend’s apartment building at midnight with Brendan. Posted that story before the ink was dry on their last PR cover."

Luca frowned, turning the cigarette slowly between his fingers. "...Right."

Now that Conrad mentioned it, it did come back. The headlines. The viral photos. Lyse’s face under camera flashes, wide-eyed, panicked and afraid, her hand tucked around Brendan’s arm like it belonged there while he protected her from the cameras. It had been Danny’s shots that sparked that particular PR bonfire.

"You were with him that night, weren’t you?" Conrad asked.

Luca blinked. "...Not that night. A few nights later, maybe. We were working separate tips."

"You sure? I thought you were with him when he got the backup shots. The car ones, where it had looked like they had been kissing."

Luca didn’t answer immediately. He remembered the night in question, the way Danny had rushed out of the car, camera bouncing on his chest, muttering about getting confirmation. Luca had waited. The shots were good, scandalous, but Danny had seemed... excited afterward. Like he had gotten a really good score.

But the memory tugging at Luca now wasn’t about Lyse or Brendan. It was about the shadowed figure Danny had spotted lurking near the back of the building, a flash of pale hair under a hood, a distinct jawline he couldn’t quite place.

And now that Luca was thinking about it, that face, that stance did look familiar.

"Hey," Conrad said, breaking into his thoughts. "You all right?"

"Yeah," Luca said, too quickly. "Just thinking."

But his mind had already moved elsewhere. Levi Van Doren.

The name slithered in like a whisper in a confession booth. He hadn’t thought about Levi in weeks, but now that Conrad had said it, now that Danny’s pictures, Danny’s excitedness, that shadowed figure, and the car belonging to the dead man all resurfaced, it felt like a missing thread had just fallen into his lap.

Levi and Brett Faulkner were connected. They shared blood and scandals, detailing that there was no love lost between the half brothers. Levi was the quiet one. Cold. Calculated. Brendan was fire, flamboyant and wild, but Levi?

Levi didn’t burn. He iced.

Luca ground out the cigarette under his boot.

"You said Danny was the one who exposed the breakup," he said quietly, more to himself than to Conrad.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Nothing. Just thinking how fast things can spiral when you’re on the wrong end of someone’s lens."

Conrad smirked. "Tell me about it. I had to scrub my socials last year when someone thought I snapped a shot of that tech billionaire’s mistress. Turned out it was his niece. Got death threats for a week and all for nothing, did not even get a single cent."

Luca only half-heard him. A thought had nested in his brain now, stubborn and corrosive.

What if Danny had seen something that night? What if he had seen Levi, not with Lyse or Brendan, but watching them? What if Danny had snapped something he wasn’t supposed to? Something not about scandal, but about power and control and secrets better left buried?

And what if Levi knew?

He suddenly remembered the last night he saw Danny alive. The guy had been jumpy. Paranoid. He’d joked, kind of that he might’ve stepped on a landmine with those Lyse shots. Said something about "playing in the big leagues."

At the time, Luca had laughed it off. Danny had always been a bit theatrical, especially after too many Red Bulls. But now...

Now, it felt different.

The kind of different that prickled along the back of his neck.

"You think Danny had enemies?" Luca asked suddenly.

Conrad raised an eyebrow. "We all have enemies. Comes with the job. But Danny? Maybe a few hundred pissed-off celebrities. He burned bridges like kindling. Why?"

Luca hesitated. "No reason."

"Don’t get paranoid on me, man," Conrad chuckled. "We deal in flashbulbs and shadows. Just because someone doesn’t like their photo taken doesn’t mean they’re a killer."

"Yeah," Luca said. "Of course."

But the weight in his gut said otherwise.

He knew Levi Van Doren by reputation. Controlled. Silent. Vicious when cornered. Unlike Brendan, Levi didn’t scream in club bathrooms or smash photographers’ lenses. He allegedly disappeared people from conversations, events, entire industries. All without lifting a finger.

And if Levi had thought Danny was prying where he shouldn’t?

It wouldn’t be beneath him.

It wouldn’t even be difficult.

As Conrad checked his phone and muttered something about uploading the Lyse shots by morning, Luca stood still, staring out at the chapel gates. The wind tugged at the hem of his coat, and behind his eyes, the memory played again: Danny looking over his shoulder, whispering "I think someone followed me."

And then, just days later—dead.

A "robbery gone wrong."

Luca didn’t believe in coincidence.

He inhaled deeply, then turned to Conrad.

"Send me those shots," he said. "Of Lyse and Brendan."

Conrad blinked. "Why? You suddenly care about the dating lives of the mildly famous?"

"No," Luca said. "I care about who else might be watching them."

He didn’t wait for an answer. As he walked away from the chapel, the streetlight caught the edge of his jaw, outlining it in gold. His mind raced, connecting threads that had been dormant far too long.

Lyse. Brandon. Levi.

Danny.

And if he was right?

He might have just hit a gold mine.