Chapter 170 – Back To Square One

Chapter 170 – Back To Square One


Katarina’s POV The Next Morning

I was heading down the hall when I heard them.
Vittorio’s voice — low, sharp — came through the half-open door of the office.

“—they never made it back,” he said.

I stopped cold.

Valentino was pacing. “You’re saying both of them are gone?”

“Gone,” Vittorio said flatly. “The maid and the man she met.”

My heart kicked. Rosa.

I leaned closer to the doorway, careful not to make a sound.

“We had someone tail her,” Vittorio continued. “She went straight to an old part of town. A diner near the docks. Sat there like she was waiting for someone. An older man came in, maybe sixty, dressed too clean for the area.”

Valentino grunted. “Government type?”

“Could be,” Vittorio said. “He sat with her. She handed him the note. He opened it, looked at it once through his glasses.” Vittorio’s voice dropped. “And then both of them dropped dead.”

My breath caught.

“What?” Valentino said.

“They were shot,” Vittorio said. “Two clean bullets. Same time. Long range. Someone was watching them.”

“Sniper,” Valentino muttered.

“Yeah. They didn’t even get to stand up,” Vittorio said. “Whoever did it wanted to make sure that message never left the table.”

He slammed something — maybe a folder — against the desk. The sound cracked through the room and through me.

“Goddammit!” Vittorio shouted. “We were so close!”

I pressed my back against the wall, trying to breathe quietly. My fingers were shaking.

“They saw the note,” Valentino said grimly. “Must’ve read it through the glass reflection. They’re one step ahead.”

“They’re organized,” Vittorio muttered. “Way too organized. Every time we get close, they cut the chain.”

For a second, no one spoke. I heard Vittorio’s heavy breathing. Then the scrape of his chair.

“Back to square one,” Valentino said.

“No,” Vittorio replied, voice colder now. “We find another way. If there’s one spy, there are more.”

That was enough for me. I stepped back from the door before they noticed.

The air in the hallway felt heavier. The sound of that slam still echoed in my chest.

Whoever these people were, they weren’t just watching — they were cleaning their tracks. Killing anyone who got too close.

And Fiorella — or whatever her name was — was still in that room pretending to wait for rescue.

I headed straight there.

The metal corridor was dim, smelling like rust and bleach. Ghost was gone, probably upstairs. Two guards stood outside her cell.

“She’s quiet?” I asked.

One of them nodded. “Hasn’t said a word, signora.”

“Good,” I said. “Stay here.”

I crouched near the door’s small slot, close enough to smell the iron and dust.

“Fiorella,” I called softly.

No answer.

“I know you’re awake,” I said. “You always twitch your hand when you’re pretending to sleep.”

Silence. Then a faint sigh.

“What do you want?”

Her voice sounded dry, cracked.

I rested my elbow against the cold wall. “I just came from upstairs. Vittorio and Valentino are done waiting.”

She laughed faintly. “They’ve been ‘done waiting’ since yesterday.”

I smiled to myself. “This time is different.”

She shifted behind the door. I heard her chains move.

“What do you mean?” she asked slowly.

“They traced your little message,” I said. “The maid. Rosa. They found who she met.”

Silence again.

“They followed him,” I continued. “They’ve got a name now. A full network. You’ve been abandoned, sweetheart. No one’s coming for you.”

That got her. I heard her breathing pick up, sharp and fast.

“You’re lying,” she whispered.

“Am I?” I let my tone stay calm. “You think I’d bother coming here if they didn’t already have everything?”

Her voice trembled slightly. “No… they promised”

“They promised to get you out,” I cut in. “But the second they saw you failed, they cut you loose. They don’t save liabilities, Fiorella.”

“Stop calling me that,” she snapped.

“Then who are you?” I shot back.

Silence.

Her chains moved again. “They’ll come. You’ll see.”

“They already did,” I said softly. “And they’re dead.”

That broke her. I heard a small, desperate sound — not quite a sob, but close.

A pause stretched. Then she said, voice small, “Get Vittorio. And Valentino. I’ll talk. But only with them… and you.”

My stomach twisted. It worked.

“I’ll tell them,” I said quietly.

Ten minutes later, we were back in that room. Same cold table, same single chair. Fiorella sat there, hands trembling slightly, eyes red but fierce.

Valentino folded his arms. “You said you’d talk. Start.”

She looked at me first. Then at Vittorio. “You followed the maid.”

“Yeah,” Vittorio said. “And your friend. They’re both dead.”

Her eyes flickered. “Then it’s too late.”

“No,” I said. “It’s not. You’re still breathing. So talk.”

She hesitated, chewing the inside of her cheek. “They came to me months ago,” she began quietly. “Men in suits. Not local. Not Italian. They said they knew who I was, that they could give me a new life if I did something for them.”

“What did they want?” Vittorio asked.

She looked at me again. “You.”

My skin prickled. “Me?”

She nodded slowly. “They called you the Kitsune Girl.”

Valentino frowned. “Kitsune — the fox thing?”

Fiorella gave a small nod. “They said you were special. That your blood was rare. They didn’t explain it, only that you were important to them. Revered, even. They told me not to hurt you  only to make sure you left the Deluca twins..make you hate them.”

Valentino’s voice hardened. “ Hate them here? Why?”

She shrugged weakly. “They wanted you ready.”

“Ready for what?” Vittorio asked.

Her lip trembled. “For you to come home.”

I frowned. “I have a home.”

Fiorella looked right at me. “Not this one. They said you were theirs. That you were supposed to be raised among them but were lost — stolen as a baby.”

“Who’s ‘they’?” Vittorio demanded.

Fiorella hesitated again, then whispered, “The people who made me do this. A Japanese organization. Old money, old power. I don’t know what they’re really called, but everyone whispered one name.”

Vittorio’s jaw tightened. “Say it.”

She swallowed. “The Kitsune House.”

Valentino muttered under his breath. “Jesus Christ.”

Fiorella’s voice cracked. “They told me if I didn’t do what they wanted, they’d kill my daughter Suzy. They used Fiorella identity to make me believable.”

“So you became her,” I said quietly.

She nodded. “I’m Estella.”

It felt strange saying her name out loud. “Estella,” I repeated.

She looked at me, tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry for hitting you. I panicked. I thought you found the safe before I could plant the map.”

Vittorio frowned. “Map to what?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know exactly. They said it was part of a larger code.”

Vittorio exhaled slowly. “And you were supposed to deliver her.”

“Yes,” Estella said. “But they didn’t trust me enough. They had backups. If I failed, they’d find another way.”

I looked at her for a long time. “You’re telling me all this because you want forgiveness?”

She shook her head. “Because I’m done..I want I and Suzy safe,” she whispered.

Valentino’s brows rose. Vittorio’s eyes narrowed.

“Who exactly contacted you” he asked.

“One of them,” she said softly. “A man named Mori. He was my handler. Cold. Careful. But he told me things sometimes. About you. About your blood. He said even they fear you.”

I didn’t know what to say. Fear me?

Vittorio straightened. “Where can we find him?”

“I can take you to my old place,” Estella said. “I kept my real phone there. It has his number saved.”

“Do it,” Vittorio said.

We left at once. No delay.
Vittorio drove. Valentino sat shotgun. I sat beside Estella in the back seat, staring at her pale face under the dim car light.

The city outside blurred — dark streets, flashing lamps, the hum of the engine filling the silence.

Her “home” turned out to be an old roadside motel on the edge of the industrial zone. One room, cheap curtains, a bed that sagged in the middle.

“This is it,” she said quietly.

Valentino opened drawers, checked under the bed. Vittorio stood by the door, hand near his gun.

Estella crouched by the dresser and pulled out a cracked phone. “It should still work.”

The screen lit up faintly. She scrolled through the contacts until she found a number labeled M.

“This is him,” she said.

Vittorio nodded. “Call.”

She hesitated. “If I do, they’ll trace it.”

“That’s the idea,” he said.

She exhaled shakily and pressed dial.

The phone rang twice. Then a male voice, low and calm, answered. “Estella.”

Vittorio motioned for her to put it on speaker.

“Who is this?” the man asked.

Estella’s voice trembled. “It’s me. I—I failed. They caught me.”

Silence. Then a slow chuckle. “I know. I’ve been watching.”

I froze.

“You knew?” Vittorio said into the phone.

The voice shifted. Cold. “Ah. The De Luca twins. Finally.”

Vittorio’s jaw flexed. “You’re the one pulling strings?”

“Not strings,” the voice said. “Threads of fate.”

“Cut the poetry,” Valentino snapped. “What do you want?”

The man ignored him. “We’ve been patient, but the girl’s time away has caused chaos. It’s time she came home.”

I felt my stomach twist.

“Home?” Vittorio repeated.

“Yes,” the man said. “Tell Katarina her throne awaits. She is the Kitsune Princess. And as for your other requests—”

“What requests?” I whispered.

The man continued as if he heard me. “Your little rats are safe. Lucky for you, we found them first. You should be more careful where you hide your pets.”

My blood went cold.

“Luce,” I breathed.

“Yes,” the man said smoothly. “You’ll see her soon. But first… the princess must return.”

The line went dead.

The room stayed silent. Only the soft static of the ended call buzzed through the phone.

Valentino cursed under his breath. “They’ve got Luce.”

Vittorio’s hands clenched at his sides. “And now they want you.”

I stared at the dead phone. My reflection glared back at me from the dark screen.

Princess. Shrine. Fox blood.

Whatever this was, it wasn’t just about power anymore. It was personal.

I looked up at Vittorio. “Then let’s go see what kind of throne they think belongs to me.”