Chapter 31

Back in the basement, Luca was staring at the corpse, replaying the words in his head.

She will destroy everything.

That one line had been more valuable than hours of torture and interrogations. Finally, a gender. Finally, a clue. But now the man was dead, and his lips were sealed forever.

Luca grabbed his phone and called Raffaele.

“What?” Raffaele answered with a tired voice.

“The bastard’s dead,” Luca said. “He had poison in his mouth. Must’ve been hidden in his tooth.”

“Did he say anything?”

Luca paused. “Yeah. He said, she will destroy everything.”

There was a silence on the other end of the line.

“She,” Raffaele echoed.

“Exactly. We’ve been chasing shadows and code names, but this one slipped. He gave us a gender. That’s more than what the others did.”

“Which means someone close to us is behind this. Someone who knows how we think. Someone smart enough to keep their identity hidden while creating chaos.”

Luca nodded. “I’ll start digging. We’ll find her. Whoever the hell she is.”

“I want answers, Luca. And fast. Because the moment Annabel wakes up, I need to know she’s safe.”

Luca hung up, stepping away from the chair. The dead man sat there, eyes open, a mocking grin frozen on his face.

But Luca wasn’t going to let this go.

She was out there. Planning something.

And now, it was personal.

\---

Raffaele finally stepped into the nursing room. The lights were dim. Pinky was still unconscious, lying peacefully on the other bed, her chest rising and falling steadily. Annabel was in the other bed, pale but breathing. Katarina sat nearby, watching over her.

He walked to her side, staring at her bruised face. Her hand was bandaged, and her side was wrapped tightly. The spot where the stab wound had hit.

Pregnant.

His mind still couldn’t accept it. Why didn’t she say anything? Was she afraid? Did she even plan to keep it? Well, why would she even tell someone who had abducted her that she was pregnant? She would fear him hurting her child.

He sat beside her bed, watching her sleep. Her lips trembled slightly, as if she was caught in a nightmare. He wanted to reach out, to touch her face, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

He had dragged her into his world. A world full of danger, betrayal, blood.

And now… she had paid a price for it.

Standing from his seat, he glanced at Pinky before walking out of the room. Two guards were standing there, on guard. He didn't know if they would be able to keep out an assassin. He didn't know what to think but he kept quiet, heading straight to the shooting range.

\---

The smell of gunpowder hit his nose the moment he stepped inside the shooting range.

It was empty– just him, the targets, and the line of loaded guns on the table. Everyone had left training immediately they saw him there, knowing he was there to vent his anger. No one would dare come to Raffaele when he was mad or they were as good as dead.

The fluorescent lights flickered above, casting cold glows across the concrete walls. He didn’t speak. Didn’t think. He just walked to the furthest lane, picked up the first pistol, and aimed.

Bang.

The bullet tore through the paper target’s chest.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

He didn’t stop. His arms moved automatically, one shot after another echoing like thunder in the hollow room. The sound was deafening, but inside his head was silence. A suffocating, oppressive silence.

Raffaele’s mind was a blank slate, too exhausted to hold any single thought for too long. But still, the questions came.

How the hell had someone gotten in?

The mansion had been on lockdown. Every phone was confiscated. The guards were on high alert. No one was allowed in or out without his approval. And yet someone had not only broken through that wall of security, they’d also managed to slip poison to a captured assassin.

He reloaded, switching guns without hesitation. His finger squeezed the trigger with practiced precision. Every recoil, every spark, every shot helped him hold onto what little control he still had.

The assassin had gotten inside.

Inside his house. Inside his system.

And he hadn’t seen it coming.

Of course whoever was messing with them must know the systems in and out. And blaming another person for it would only make things go the way his enemies wanted it to play out.

Now what would he do? He didn't even want to think.

Raffaele’s jaw tightened as he fired again, the gun jerking in his grip. He was angry—but it wasn’t the usual kind of fury he was used to. It wasn’t the sharp blaze that came when someone crossed him.