Chapter 29 Ren

Chapter 29 Ren
Ren

I look at her for a moment longer before I decide it is time for me to go. There is a restlessness in my chest that only action will soothe and sitting in this room watching her recover is not the best use of my time. I adjust the cuffs of my shirt and take a step toward the door. I need to get back to my own world and see exactly how much damage the latest moves have caused to my organization.

"I will be back later," I say to her without looking back.

Amelia shifts on the bed and I can hear the rustle of the sheets. "Where are you going?"

I stop and glance over my shoulder at her. She looks small against the pillows but her eyes are already searching for a way out. I am not about to give her any information she can use to track my movements or plan an escape.

"It is nothing you need to worry yourself about," I tell her firmly. "Just focus on recovering before you manage to kill yourself with your own stubbornness."

She scoffs and looks toward the corner where Matteo is standing like a silent statue. "I do not feel comfortable being left alone with someone I barely know."

A low chuckle escapes me as I shake my head. I find it hard to believe that a woman who leads soldiers into battle is suddenly worried about being left with a man who is clearly under my thumb.

"Do you really expect me to believe you are afraid?" I ask her with a smirk. "Matteo is harmless to you. The only thing he is going to do is pretend you do not exist unless you try something stupid. If you need anything, let him know, but do not expect him to make small talk."

I make another attempt to leave but she calls out to me again. Her voice is stronger now and it stops me right at the threshold of the room.

"What about you?" she asks.

I turn my whole body to face her this time. "What about me?"

"Are you still going to remain a recruit?" she asks while studying my face. "Will you still train under my brother's command at the base?"

I actually did consider that for a few minutes while I was driving her here. I thought about what a perfect opportunity it would be to stay inside the lion's den. What better way to know about the enemy than working closely with them every day? However, I know that staying there would be nothing short of a suicide mission. From what I have read in the intelligence reports about her brother, Valentino is a smart prick. He is observant and sharp. He would sniff me out sooner rather than later and I am not ready to fight my way out of a military base again.

"No," I answer her. "I pulled out of the recruitment program this morning."

I do not wait for her to ask why or how I managed it. I step out into the hallway and look at Matteo.

"Keep a close eye on her," I mutter to him. "Do not let her pull one over on you again. She is smarter than she looks."

He snorts. "You don't have to tell me twice."

I turn to head for the garage. I need the roar of an engine and the familiarity of my own territory.

I drive through the winding streets of Verona and head toward the industrial district where my main base of operations is hidden behind the facade of a shipping company. The gates open for me immediately as the guards recognize my car.

I walk into the main boardroom and the atmosphere is thick with tension. My inner circle is already gathered there and I can feel the weight of their expectations. I take my seat at the head of the table and look at the men who keep the Moretti family running.

Alessandro Vitale sits to my right. He is my consigliere and my oldest ally. He is a man who thinks five steps ahead of everyone else in the room and he is currently looking at a stack of reports with a calm expression. He is the only one here who can challenge me without fearing for his life.

"The situation is stable for now," Alessandro says in his quiet, measured voice. "But the docks are in an uproar."

"They should be," Rayhan Ferraro snaps. He is the capo in charge of the dockyards and shipping. He is hot-tempered and usually speaks with his fists. "We lost a fortune in the raid, Ren. My men are demanding revenge. They want to know why we are sitting here talking instead of burning down the military barracks."

I look at Rayhan and keep my expression neutral. "We are not striking back until I know exactly who authorized that raid. I will not waste lives on a blind retaliation."

"Retaliation might expose us even more," Enzo Ricci adds from the other end of the table. He handles the money and the bribes. He is smooth and politically connected, and he hates anything that disrupts the cash flow. "The corruption in the military goes deep, but if we push too hard, we might snap the strings we are currently pulling."

Marco Bellini, my silent enforcer, says nothing. He just watches me with fanatical loyalty. He is the one who handles the hit squads and he is clearly waiting for the order to start hunting. I know the losses from the raid affected him personally.

"I suspect the raid was personal," Alessandro says while tapping his pen on the table. "It was too precise and too targeted to be a standard operation. I think someone wanted to hurt the family specifically."

"Then we find them and we end them," Rayhan growls.

I lean back in my chair and listen to them argue. This is my world. It is a place of blood and strategy and constant threat. As I look at the maps on the table, my mind flashes back to Amelia sitting in that stone room. She is a part of this mess now whether she likes it or not. I have a family to protect and a traitor to find, and I am going to use every resource I have to make sure the Moretti name stays on top.

"Marco," I say, cutting through the noise.

The room goes silent instantly.

"I want you to increase surveillance on General Russo and his son, Valentino," I command. "Watch their every move. If they breathe in the wrong direction, I want to know about it. They think they can strike at the Moretti family and walk away, but they have no idea what they have already lost."

Marco nods once and stands up. He does not need to ask questions. He knows exactly what to do.

I turn my attention back to the rest of the group. The war is not over yet, and I am just getting started.

I lean forward and rest my hands on the mahogany surface of the table. The wood is cool against my palms but my blood is beginning to simmer.

I look at each man in turn. They are waiting for me to give them a name or a target. They want blood for the blood that was spilled at the docks. I can feel the weight of their judgment as I remain silent for a moment longer than necessary.

Rayhan shifts in his seat and narrows his eyes at me. He is never good at hiding his thoughts. He leans in and his voice drops to a low, dangerous tone.

"And Amelia?" Rayhan asks. "The General's daughter and Valentino's sister. What do we do about her?"

The mention of her name in this room feels like a physical blow. It is a violation of the space I have kept for her in my mind. My jaw tightens and I feel the air in the room grow thin. I slowly straighten my back and lock my gaze onto Rayhan. The temperature in the boardroom seems to drop ten degrees.

"No one and I mean no one, is to lay a single finger on her without my permission," I say. My voice is quiet but it carries a weight that makes Enzo flinch. "I will not have this conversation again."

Rayhan does not back down. He slams his fist onto the table and stands up. His face is flushed with a mixture of frustration and disbelief. He looks around at the other capos as if seeking support for his madness.

"Have you forgotten, Ren?" Rayhan shouts. "She was the one who led the raid against us! She is the reason our warehouses are empty and our men are in the morgue. And do not forget that the only reason she hasn't put a bullet through your head is because she knows you as the billionaire business tycoon, Luca D'Angelo, and not Ren Moretti. She is a threat. She needs to be removed, permanently."

The world turns into a blur of red. I do not think. I simply move.

A second later, I have Rayhan pinned against the wall. I move so fast that the others don't even have time to stand up. I have twisted his arm behind his back and shoved his face against the cold plaster. I pull my handgun from my holster and press the muzzle firmly against his temple. The metallic click of the safety being disengaged is the only sound in the dead-silent room.

"No one. Fucking. Touches. Her," I growl into his ear.

Rayhan gasps as the pressure of the gun barrel digs into his skin. I can feel him trembling beneath my hands, but I do not let up. My heart is hammering against my ribs, fueled by a protectiveness that borders on insanity. I know they think I am compromised. I know they think I have lost my mind over a girl who belongs to the enemy. They are right, but that doesn't change the fact that I will kill any man in this room who dares to look at her with ill intent.

"Do you understand me, Rayhan?" I ask. I press the gun harder against his head. "If I hear her name come out of your mouth again without my direct order, I will not just remove you from this room. I will remove you from this world."

"Ren, stop," Alessandro says. His voice is calm but there is a note of urgency in it. "He is emotional. We are all on edge. Put the gun down."

I don't move for several seconds. I want Rayhan to feel the breath of death on his neck. I want him to know that his loyalty to the family means nothing if he defies me on this one point. Finally, I shove him away from the wall. He stumbles forward and catches himself on the edge of the table, gasping for air.

I holster my weapon and smooth out the front of my suit jacket. I look at the rest of them. Enzo is staring at his hands. Marco is watching me with an unreadable expression. Alessandro looks disappointed but resigned.

"She is my leverage," I say to the room. I keep my voice steady, though my pulse is still racing. "She is the only reason the General hasn't burned this city to the ground looking for us. She is a pawn in a game you aren't smart enough to play. You will leave her to me."

"And if she finds out who you really are?" Enzo asks quietly. "If she realizes Luca D'Angelo is the man who killed her colleagues?"

"Then I will handle it," I reply.

I turn and walk toward the door. I cannot stay in this room any longer. The air is poisoned by their doubt and my own secrets. I need to get back to the safe house. I need to see her. I need to remind myself why I am risking everything I have built for a woman who would hate me if she knew the truth.

"The meeting is over," I say as I reach the door. "Marco, follow my orders regarding the surveillance. Alessandro, I want a full report on the financial leaks by tonight."

I walk out and head for my car. The drive back to the hills is a blur. I find myself pushing the engine to its limits, taking the corners too fast. My mind is a storm of conflicting thoughts. Rayhan is right about one thing. She is dangerous. She is a soldier. She is a Russo. But when I closed my eyes earlier, I didn't see a captain. I saw the way her hair looked against the white sheets. I saw the fire in her hazel eyes when she dared to challenge me.

I reach the safe house and park the car. I take a deep breath of the mountain air to clear my head. I have to be Luca D'Angelo when I walk through that door. Or at least, the version of Luca that she can tolerate.

I enter the house and hear the faint sound of typing coming from upstairs. She is working. She is already digging into the files I gave her. She is so focused on finding the truth that she doesn't realize she is living with the lie.

I walk up the stairs and stand in the doorway of her room. She doesn't look up. Her brow is furrowed in concentration. The blue light of the screen makes her skin look like marble.

"You're back," she says without turning around.

"I told you I would be," I reply.

I walk into the room and stand behind her. I look at the screen. She has already decoded a secondary layer of the communication logs. She is better than I thought.

"You were gone a long time," she says. She finally stops typing and turns the chair to look at me. "Is everything okay?"

I look at her and for a moment, I want to tell her everything. I want to tell her that I just nearly killed my own man to protect her. I want to tell her that her father is a ghost and her brother is a target. But I just offer a small, sarcastic smile.

"Business is never simple, Amelia," I say. "Especially when people don't know how to follow instructions."

"You look stressed," she says. She reaches out as if to touch my arm, but then she pulls back.

"I'm fine," I say. I step closer, invading her space until she has to tilt her head back to look at me. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"I found enough to know that someone is playing us both," she says quietly.

I look into her eyes and I see the curiosity there. She is trying to solve the puzzle. She doesn't realize that I am the piece that doesn't fit. I lean down until our faces are inches apart. I can see the pulse jumping in her neck.

"Then keep digging," I whisper. "Just don't be surprised if you don't like what you find at the bottom of the hole."

I turn and walk out of the room before I do something I can't take back. I need to maintain the distance. I need to remember the war. But as I walk down the hallway, I know that the lines are already blurred beyond repair.

I go to my own room and pull out my phone. I have a message from a contact in the military intelligence wing.

Valentino is moving. He's already taking command of Captain Russo's unit and has begun to assign tasks.

I delete the message and look out the window at the dark woods. The clock is ticking. The General is coming. Valentino is coming. And I am standing in the middle of a fortress with the woman who could be my salvation or my end.

I leave the room without another word and head down the stairs. The encounter with Rayhan is still buzzing in my ears and the adrenaline has not fully faded. I need a drink to clear the static from my head. I walk into the kitchen and find Matteo sitting at the island. He is cleaning his sidearm, but he is not doing it in silence. He looks up and sees the tension in my shoulders, and a knowing smirk plays on his lips.

"You look like you just tried to put a hole through someone's head," Matteo says. He slides the magazine back into his weapon with a metallic click. "Let me guess. Rayhan opened his mouth when he should have kept it shut?"

I pour myself a glass of whiskey and drink it in one go. The burn is welcome. "He thinks he has a vote. He thinks he can decide who lives and who dies."

"He's a capo," Matteo shrugs, leaning back in his chair. "They all think they're kings until you remind them who wears the crown. But he isn't wrong about the risk, Ren. If she finds out who is actually keeping her in this house, you won't be worried about Rayhan. You will be worried about the knife she puts in you while you sleep."

"She isn't going to find out," I say. I lean against the counter and stare at the empty glass.

"She is a Russo," Matteo counters. He doesn't hold back with me; he never has. "She is literally trained to find things out. And right now, you have her sitting upstairs with a laptop and a grudge. That is a dangerous combination."

"Is she still at it?" I ask.

"She hasn't moved for hours," he says. "I brought her water and she looked at me like I was an intruder in her own home. She is close to something. I can see it in the way she stares at the screen."

"Keep your eyes on the perimeter," I tell him, ignoring the warning in his tone. "I got a message. Valentino is already taking command of her unit. He is assigning tasks. He is moving fast."

Matteo straightens up, his playful mood vanishing. "If he is taking her unit, he is looking for her. He won't stop at the docks like she did."

"I know. That is why Marco is watching them. If Valentino breathes in the wrong direction, I want to know."

I walk back upstairs. The silence of the house feels heavy and charged. I stand in the doorway of her room again. She is still sitting there. The room is dark except for the glow of the screen. She has pulled her hair up into a messy knot and a few strands have escaped to frame her neck.

I watch her for a long time. I wonder what she would do if I told her the truth right now. If I told her that I was the one who pulled the trigger on her life as she knew it.

"You're lingering again, Luca," she says quietly. She doesn't turn around. Her voice is soft but steady.

"I am checking on my guest," I say.

I walk into the room and stop a few feet behind her chair. I can see the lines of code on the screen. She is deep in the sub-directories of the files I gave her.

"You should sleep," I say. "Your body is still healing."

"I can't sleep," she replies. She finally turns the chair and looks at me. Her eyes are tired. "Every time I close my eyes, I see the ambush. I see the faces of my men. I see the chaos of that night at the docks."

She doesn't know she is talking to the man who orchestrated that chaos. She doesn't realize the irony of her own words.

"The docks are behind you, Amelia," I say. I step closer and rest my hand on the back of her chair. "That night is over."

"It isn't over," she whispers. "It exists in these logs. Someone authorized that raid. Someone gave the coordinates that led us into a slaughter."

I reach out and run a thumb along her jawline. Her skin is soft and warm. She flinches slightly at the contact, but she doesn't pull away. Her eyes search mine, looking for an answer I am not ready to give.

"Why are you helping me?" she asks. "You could have left me in that clinic. It would have been easier for you."

"I don't like easy," I say. I lean down so my face is level with hers. "And I don't like people touching what belongs to me."

She narrows her eyes. "I don't belong to you."

"In this house, you do," I reply with a cold smile. "In this house, I am the only thing standing between you and the people who want you silenced. That makes you mine to protect."

"You talk like a warlord, not a businessman," she says.

"Maybe the two aren't so different in Verona."

I stand up and walk toward the door. I can feel her gaze on my back. It is a weight that I carry gladly. I stop and look back at her one last time.

"Lock the door when I leave," I say. "I have more business to attend to."

"Luca," she calls out.

I stop.

"Thank you," she says.

The "thank you" hangs in the air like a foul scent. It irritates me more than her defiance ever did. It feels wrong coming from her. She is a Russo. She should be clawing at the walls or looking for a blunt object to cave in my skull, not offering gratitude to the man who stole her from her life.

I stop with my hand on the doorframe. I do not turn around. I do not want her to see the flicker of annoyance on my face.

"Don't thank me, Amelia," I say. My voice is hard, stripping away the warmth of the moment. "I didn't do this out of the kindness of my heart. Kindness is a luxury I settled a long time ago."

"I know why you did it," she says. I hear the bed creak as she stands up. Her footsteps are light on the hardwood, but they are steady. "You want the same thing I want. You want the person who compromised that raid. You’re using me as a bloodhound to find the leak in your own backyard."

I finally turn to look at her. She is standing by the desk, her arms folded tightly across her chest. The momentary softness in her eyes is gone, replaced by the calculating gaze of a commanding officer. This is the woman who led the raid at the docks. This is the woman who almost ended me.

"Good," I say, leaning against the doorframe. "For a moment, I thought the sedative had turned your brain to mush. I prefer you like this. Sharp. Cynical. It makes things much more predictable."

She walks toward me, stopping just outside the circle of light from the desk lamp.

"You talk about protection, Luca, but you’ve turned me into a prisoner. You took my phone. You took my watch. You took my ability to report to my command. If my father finds out you’re holding me here, he won't care about your 'financial interests.' He will level every building you own."

"Your father is currently the one person you should be running from," I remind her. "Or have you forgotten the weight of his hand on your face? He’s already replaced you, Amelia. Valentino is leading your men. You’ve been erased from the board. If you go back now, you aren't going back to a hero’s welcome. You're going back to a cage far tighter than this one."

She flinches at the mention of her father, but she recovers quickly. She steps into my shadow, her chin tilted up in that annoying way that makes me want to either shake her or kiss her until she forgets her own name.

"I am not a pawn," she whispers. "And I am not yours."

"You keep saying that," I reply. I reach out and grab a lock of her chestnut hair, winding it slowly around my finger. I pull just enough to force her to look me in the eye. "But look at where we are. You’re in my house. You’re eating my food. You’re using my servers. You are exactly where I want you to be."

She doesn't pull away. She stares at me with a hatred that is so pure it’s almost beautiful.

"You’re a parasite, Luca. You find a wound and you feed on it."

"Maybe," I say, my voice dropping to a low growl. "But I'm the only parasite that's keeping you alive. Remember that the next time you feel like being polite."

I let go of her hair and step back into the hallway. I don't wait for a response. I shut the door and lock it. The sound of the bolt sliding into place is the only answer she needs.

I head back down to the kitchen. Matteo is still there, but he’s stopped cleaning his gun. He’s watching me with an amused expression that makes me want to break his jaw.

"Changed your mind about the 'thank you'?" he asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"She’s back to herself," I mutter, grabbing the whiskey bottle from the counter. "The gratitude was a side effect of the drugs. She’s currently comparing me to a parasite."

"Sounds about right," Matteo says, standing up. "She’s a Russo. They don't do 'grateful.' They do 'revenge.' You’d do well to remember that before you let her get too close to the keyboard."

"I know exactly what she is," I say.

I take the bottle and head for the basement. I need to see what Marco has on Valentino. I need to focus on the war. But the feeling of her hair wrapped around my finger stays with me. It’s a tether I didn't ask for, and one I’m not sure I can break.

I sit in front of the monitors and pull up the feed from her room. She isn't crying. She isn't resting. She’s back at the desk, her fingers flying across the keys.

"That's my girl," I whisper to the empty room.