Chapter 40 Ren

Chapter 40 Ren
Ren

The red light above the operating room door finally flickers and dies. The double doors swing open and the surgeon steps out. He is pulling off his blue paper mask and he looks like he has aged a decade in the last few hours. I stand up slowly and feel the pull of the fresh stitches in my own temple. My head is still throbbing but I ignore it.

"He survived," the doctor says. He wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. "It was close. The bullet nicked the femoral artery. If you had been ten seconds slower with that tourniquet, he would be dead. He is stable now, but he is going to be out of commission for a long time. The nerve damage is quite significant."

I nod once. I don't feel relieved, not even a little. I feel a cold and hollow clarity. Matteo is the only person in this city I trust with my life and now he is lying in a drug induced coma because of a Russo ego trip. Seeing him vulnerable like this does not make me sad. It makes me lethal. Valentino did not just shoot a soldier. He tried to cut off my right hand.

"Keep a guard on his door," I tell Marco. "Two men inside and two in the hall. Nobody enters this wing without my personal clearance. Not even the nurses."

"Understood, Boss," Marco says.

I turn and walk toward the private office at the end of the clinic hallway. It is a small room reinforced with steel plates and equipped with an encrypted server. I need to move. I cannot sit in a hospital waiting room while some psychotic military piece of shit and scum is plotting my downfall. I sit behind the desk and wait for the intelligence to start flowing. Marco enters a few minutes later with a tablet and a grim expression.

"We did some digging into Valentino's recent movements," Marco says. He slides the tablet across the desk. "We already know he arrived in Verona when Captain Russo was in the hospital. We know that he is here to take over Captain Russo's unit, to get rid of every Mafia Organisation in the city. He has established a temporary command post in an old government building near the north district. It is a fortress. Impenetrable."

I scroll through the data. Valentino did not come here alone. He brought a specialized tactical unit with him. These are not regular soldiers. They are high tier operators who specialize in urban pacification. The roadblock tonight was not a random encounter. It was a coordinated strike. He used military satellite sweeps to track my vehicle from the moment I left the safe house.

"No place is impenetrable," I murmur. I look at the map of his command post. "He came to Verona specifically to hunt me from the look of things. Perhaps I killed him in his past life. He is using state resources to fight a private war, how foolish."

"He is using the Russo name to bypass every check and balance in the city," Marco adds. He hesitates for a moment before speaking again. "One of the scouts mentioned Amelia Russo. He thinks she might be the weak link we can use to get to Valentino. If we take her, we can force his hand."

The air in the room suddenly feels very thin. I look up at Marco and the temperature of the room seems to drop ten degrees. I don't bother raising my voice. I don't have to.

"Captain Russo is off limits," I say. My voice is a low and dangerous rasp. "If anyone so much as looks at her the wrong way, I will personally ensure they never see the sun again. Is that clear?"

Marco swallows hard and nods quickly. "Crystal clear, Boss. I will make sure the men understand."

"She is not a link," I continue. I lean back in the chair and feel the darkness of the Shadow settling over me. "She is the objective. Valentino wants to use her to break me. I am going to use his own arrogance to break him."

I start to formulate a counter move. I am not going to attack his command post. That is what a street boss would do. I am a strategist. I need to destabilize his entire foundation. I need to make him a liability to the people who give him his power.

"I want the Russo supply chains in the city disrupted by morning," I tell Marco. "Find out which contractors are providing his unit with food, fuel, and equipment. Pressure them. Make it impossible for them to fulfill their contracts. I want his men hungry and frustrated."

"I can handle that," Marco says.

"Next, I want the names of his informants," I say. "He has to be getting local chatter from someone. Find the weakest one and turn him. Give him a choice between a pile of cash or a very shallow grave. I want to know Valentino's schedule. I want to know where he sleeps and who he meets for coffee."

I spend the next hour issuing orders. I reach out to a political ally of the Russo family and remind him of the delicate photos I have in my possession. I suggest that he should start asking questions in the Senate about the legality of military vehicles being used on civilian streets in Verona. I want the pressure to come from all sides. I want Valentino to feel the walls closing in.

Marco eventually leaves to execute the plan. I am left alone in the quiet office. The adrenaline has finally faded and my head is screaming. I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone. I expect to see messages from my father or reports from the docks. Instead, I see a notification from the encrypted line I gave to Amelia.

I open the message and a strange sensation flickers in my chest.

I have a lead on a shell company in the north, the message reads. I need you to help me cross reference some manifests. I think I am close to finding him. When will you be back?

I stare at the screen for a long time. I find myself giving a small and dangerous smile. The irony is almost poetic. The woman who wants to put a bullet in my head is asking me to help her find myself. She is sitting in my villa and using my resources to hunt me.

She has no idea that she is already sleeping in the lion's den. And she has no idea that the lion is the only thing standing between her and her brother's cold ambition.

"Be careful what you wish for, Captain," I whisper to the empty room.

I tuck the phone away and stand up. I have a war to win and a woman to keep. Valentino Russo think he has the board figured out, but he has no idea that I have already moved the pieces. I walk out of the office and head toward the exit.

XXXX

I arrive back at the villa long after midnight. The iron gates swing open without a sound and the gravel crunches softly under the tires of the sedan. The house sits like a dark crown against the jagged silhouette of the mountains. It is quiet and still l. The staff are asleep and the only lights visible are the low glow of the security lanterns along the perimeter.

I step out of the car and feel the mountain air bite at my skin. It is cold and clean. It is exactly what I need to clear the smell of the clinic and the copper tang of Matteo's blood from my senses.

Marco pulls up behind me in the second vehicle. He steps out and gives the grounds a quick scan. His eyes are tired but he remains alert. He walks over to me and keeps his voice low so the sound doesn't carry toward the open windows of the upper floor.

"The men are stationed at the north ridge and the lake path," Marco says. "I have increased the rotation. Nobody gets within a mile of this house without us knowing about it first."

"Good," I say. I adjust the collar of my coat. My head is still throbbing with a rhythmic heat. "Make sure they stay out of sight. I don't want Amelia to feel like she is being watched. She has enough reasons to be suspicious of me already."

"Understood, Boss," Marco says. He looks at the bandage on my temple. "You should get some sleep. You look like you are about to drop."

"I have work to do," I reply.

I walk toward the front door and enter the foyer. The villa is dim and the air inside is still. I move through the hallway and notice a light coming from the library. It is a soft and warm glow that spills out onto the polished wood floor.

I stop at the entrance and look inside. Amelia is not there but the evidence of her presence is everywhere.

I walk over to the mahogany desk and look down at the papers spread across the surface. She has been working. I see shipping manifests from the eastern docks. I see trade routes marked in red ink. She has circled the names of three different logistics companies that I use to move high value cargo.

She isn't just doing a guessing game. She is using her military training to pick apart the network I spent a decade building. She is dangerously close to a door that leads directly to me.

I sit in the leather chair and pick up one of her notes. She has cross-referenced the arrival times of several containers with the dates of known Moretti operations. It is brilliant and it is terrifying.

I feel a strange mix of pride and amusement as I look at her handwriting. She is a hunter. She is a predator. And she is currently tracking the man who is providing her with a roof and a bed.

The floorboard in the hallway creaks.

I don't move. I keep my eyes on the papers. I hear her footsteps before I see her. They are light and rhythmic. She is trying to be quiet but I have lived in the dark for too long to be surprised.

"I didn't think billionaires had to work the night shift," she says.

I look up. Amelia is standing in the doorway. She is wearing the oversized black hoodie and a pair of soft grey joggers. Her hair is a mess and her eyes are a little bloodshot from the late hour. She looks annoyed that I am sitting in the chair she has claimed as her own.

"I live here," I say. My voice is calm. "I don't need permission to enter my own library at three in the morning."

"You look like hell, Luca," she says. She walks into the room and stops a few feet from the desk. She stares at the bandage on my head. "What happened to your face? Did a board meeting get violent?"

"I had a disagreement with a piece of heavy machinery," I lie. I offer her a small and tired smirk. "The machinery won the first round."

She doesn't laugh.

She steps closer and reaches out a hand. She moves as if she wants to touch the bandage to check the depth of the wound. I move away slightly before her fingers can make contact. I do it with a controlled motion that I hope looks like a simple adjustment of my posture.

I cannot have her touching me right now. My skin is still buzzing from the adrenaline and I am too close to the edge.

"You're a terrible liar," she mutters. She drops her hand and looks at the desk. "I found something today. I was hoping you could help me verify it since you know so much about the logistics in this region."

"I am always happy to help a guest in need," I say.

She spreads the manifests out and points to a shell company based in the north district. It is a small outfit that handles short term storage. It is one of my primary fronts for the Syndicate's movements. She looks at me with an intensity that tells me she is waiting for me to figure out the loophole, which I have but I don't plan to say a thing.

"This company," she says. "They move cargo that never shows up on the official port registry. I think they are connected to Ren Moretti. If I can prove they are storing his goods, I can find a way to track him back to his main base."

I look at the name of the company on the paper. I know exactly who owns it. I know exactly what is in those containers right now. I look back at her and maintain a mask of mild curiosity.

"It's a small firm," I say. "They mostly handle agricultural overflow. It's unlikely a man of Moretti's stature would use such a minor operation. You are probably chasing a dead end, Amelia."

"It's not a dead end," she insists. She leans over the desk and the scent of her soap hits me. It is a distraction I don't need. "The numbers match. The timing matches. I just need to cross-reference their inland delivery records. Can you get me access to the regional database tomorrow?"

I look at her for a long moment.

If I shut her down now she will grow suspicious of my lack of cooperation. If I help her too much she will find herself at the gates of my own warehouse. I need to guide her just enough to keep her on the path I choose.

"I can look into it," I say. "But I think you are wasting your time. You should be resting and letting your side heal. Not playing detective in the middle of the night."

"I'll rest when I'm dead," she says with a sarcastic tilt of her head. "Or when I have Moretti in handcuffs. Whichever comes first."

"Hopefully the handcuffs," I say.

She gathers her papers and gives me one last look. She is tired and she is clearly still in pain but the fire in her eyes is still there. She turns and walks toward the stairs. I watch her go until she disappears into the shadows of the upper floor.

I remain alone at the desk.

The silence of the house feels different now. It feels heavy with the weight of the game we are playing. I take out my phone and send a short message to Marco.

Move the records for the north district storage. Scrub the inland manifests. Leave a trail that leads back to the southern docks.

I set the phone down and stare at the empty doorway. The closer she gets to the truth the more dangerous this becomes for both of us. She is hunting a monster and she has no idea that she just asked the monster for help.

I give a small and dangerous smile to the quiet room.

I am going to keep her on the trail. I am going to let her believe she is winning. Because as long as she is hunting Ren Moretti she is staying right here where I can see her.

I stand up and turn off the lamp. The darkness is a welcome need. I head toward the stairs and tell myself that tomorrow is going to be a very interesting day.