Chapter 12 Chapter Twelve
LILA
The darkness didn't lift all at once. It peeled away in layers, thin and sickly sweet, like the smell of the chloroform still clinging to the back of my throat. My head felt like it had been cracked open and filled with lead. Every time I tried to blink, the world tilted, a nauseating roll that told me I wasn't on solid ground anymore.
The first thing I felt was the cold. Not the damp, ancient chill of the Sicilian villa, but a sharp, sterile cold, the kind you find in a refrigerator or a hospital. I was lying on something hard and metallic. When I tried to move my hands, the familiar bite of restraints greeted me. Not silk this time. Cold, unforgiving steel cuffed my wrists to the sides of a narrow cot.
I forced my eyes open. The ceiling was low and white, illuminated by a strip of blue LED lights that made everything look ghostly. There was a rhythmic hum vibrating through the floor, the deep, guttural thrum of a high-powered engine.
I was on a boat. A fast one.
"You’re awake sooner than expected," a voice said.
It was the voice from the smoke. Calm. Precise. Chilling.
I turned my head, the movement sending a spike of pain through my temples. The blond man, Kaito, was sitting in a chair in the corner of the small, windowless cabin. He wasn't wearing the suit anymore. He was in a black tactical turtleneck, looking more like a shadow than a human being. He was cleaning a long, curved blade with a piece of white silk, his movements methodical and rhythmic.
"Where is Matteo?" I croaked. My voice sounded like it had been dragged over gravel.
Kaito didn't look up from his blade. "The Don is likely counting his dead. Or perhaps he is at the bottom of the Mediterranean. It doesn't matter. He was a temporary guardian. His contract is over."
"Guardian?" I laughed, though it turned into a cough. "He kidnapped me. He forced me to marry him."
"He kept you alive," Kaito corrected, finally looking at me. His blue eyes were as flat and emotionless as a winter sky. "In our world, that is the highest form of devotion. But the Russos are loud. They are messy. They are Sicilian. They deal in blood and emotion. My employers deal in efficiency."
I struggled against the cuffs, the metal clinking loudly in the small room. "Who are your employers? The Yamaguchi-gumi?"
Kaito stood up, sheathing the blade in a black scabbard at his hip. He walked toward the cot, his footsteps silent. "You know more than you should. That satellite phone was a mistake. Matteo should have destroyed it the moment he took it from your mother's estate."
"My mother..." I whispered. "Matteo said she was a broker. He said she was the Flower of Tokyo."
Kaito reached down and gripped the edge of the cot, leaning over me. He didn't smell like wine or smoke. He smelled like ozone and expensive soap.
"She was more than a broker, Lila. She was a bridge. She held the keys to the digital ledgers that moved wealth from East to West. When she died, those keys were supposed to pass to her successor. Your father ran because he thought he could keep the keys for himself. He thought he could bury the flame."
He reached out and touched the locket hanging around my neck. I tried to jerk away, but he was too fast. He flicked the latch open, staring at the photo of my mother.
"She hid the code in the one place no one would look," he murmured. "In the bloodline."
"I don't know any codes," I snapped. "I’m a dancer. I spend my nights spinning under lights for tips. I don't know anything about ledgers or syndicates."
"Not yet," Kaito said. "But the mind is a strange thing. It remembers things the heart tries to forget. We are going to a place where we can help you remember. A place where the Russo influence cannot reach."
"Tokyo," I said, the word feeling like a curse.
"Eventually. But first, we have to ensure the Russo problem is truly settled."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small device. He pressed a button, and a holographic screen projected into the air above me.
It was a live feed of the villa.
My heart stopped. The beautiful cliffside house was a ruin. Smoke billowed from the shattered windows. The front lawn was littered with bodies, some in black suits, some in the tactical gear Kaito’s men wore. In the center of the driveway, I saw a figure.
Matteo.
He was on one knee, his charcoal suit torn and soaked in blood. He was surrounded by a dozen men with rifles pointed at his head. He looked like a fallen king, but even in defeat, his head was held high. He was staring at the lead vehicle, his eyes filled with a rage so pure it seemed to burn through the screen.
"Kill him," a voice said over the feed. It was Vittorio Valenti. The old man stepped into the frame, leaning on his cane, a look of triumph on his wrinkled face. "Kill him and let the Russo name die in the dirt where it belongs."
"Wait," I screamed, my voice cracking. "No!"
Kaito watched the screen with a detached interest. "The Valentis think they are in charge. They think they are reclaiming their city. They don't realize they are just the cleaning crew."
On the screen, one of the guards stepped forward, pressing the barrel of his rifle against Matteo’s forehead. Matteo didn't blink. He didn't beg. He just spat on the man’s boots, exactly the way I had spat on his cheek at the altar.
The guard pulled back the bolt.
I closed my eyes, a sob breaking from my chest. I hated him. I hated everything he had done to me. But the thought of him being snuffed out like a candle in the dirt felt like a hole opening up in my soul. He was the only person who knew the truth about my father. He was the only person who had looked at me and seen a fire instead of a victim.
A sudden explosion rocked the holographic feed.
I opened my eyes. The screen was filled with fire and debris. A fleet of black SUVs different from the ones used in the hit—burst through the gates of the villa. They didn't stop. They rammed into the Valenti vehicles, men in dark blue tactical gear pouring out, firing with suppressed weapons.
"What is that?" Kaito hissed, leaning closer to the projection. "Who are they?"
"The reinforcements," I breathed, hope flared in my chest.
But it wasn't the Russos. These men were more organized, moving with a military precision that even Matteo’s men lacked. On their shoulders, they wore a patch I didn't recognize, a silver lily surrounded by a ring of thorns.
"The Moreno Loyalists," Kaito whispered, his voice finally showing a hint of emotion. Shock. "I thought they were disbanded twenty years ago."
The screen flickered and died.
Kaito turned to me, his face a mask of sudden urgency. He grabbed a syringe from the table and jammed it into my arm.
"Hey!" I shouted, but the world was already starting to blur again.
"It seems your father was more prepared than we anticipated," Kaito said, his voice fading. "He didn't just leave you a debt, Lila. He left you an army."