Hundred-Fourteen–Bianca’s Gambit
Hundred-Fourteen–Bianca’s Gambit
Rico swallowed hard. “What do you want me to do?”
“Nothing yet.”
“You sure?”
Dante nodded slowly. “If I move too fast, I could walk right into their trap. I need to be sure.”
Rico hesitated. “Then what do we do now?”
Dante leaned back, staring at the burnt ceiling above him. “Now?” He gave a bitter half-smile. “Now we wait.”
Rico didn’t argue. He nodded once and left him alone again.
When the door closed, Dante looked back at the phone. His thumb hovered over the photo for a long time before he finally set it down beside the glass.
The storm outside had died down, but the wind still howled through the broken windows.
He stood, crossed the room, and picked up the old family portrait again. He looked at his younger self — the boy who thought loyalty could save people, that love could fix everything.
That boy was gone.
Dante set the frame down gently, then poured himself another drink. His reflection wavered in the cracked glass of the bottle.
He looked older than he remembered.
He took a long drink and whispered, almost to himself, “Empty king, that’s what I’ve become.”
The compound stayed silent. No answer came.
The safehouse was small and damp, tucked behind what looked like a closed butcher shop. Bianca sat by the small window, watching the rain blur the view of the narrow street. Giulia paced behind her, arms crossed, jaw tight.
“This is insane,” Giulia said for the fourth time that hour. “You really think pretending to be kidnapped will get us anywhere? We don’t even know if she’s in that base.”
Bianca didn’t look at her. “She is. I know my daughter.”
Giulia let out a sharp breath. “You thought you knew her, Mom. But that girl—” She stopped, biting her tongue before saying something cruel.
Bianca turned then, her eyes red from lack of sleep. “Say it, Giulia.”
“She looked at you like you were a stranger. Maybe that’s who we are now.”
Bianca rose slowly from the chair. “She’s been conditioned to think that way. Someone’s feeding her lies. And if I have to walk into hell to pull her out, I will.”
Giulia rubbed her forehead, muttering, “This plan is hell.” She went quiet for a moment before asking, “What if they don’t take us alive?”
“Then Dante will burn the world down for us,” Bianca said flatly, checking her gun before sliding it into her coat.
Giulia made a small, humorless laugh. “You always say that like it’s supposed to comfort me.”
Bianca didn’t answer. She was staring at the rain again. “It’s time.”
\---
The black van arrived an hour later. Two masked men stepped out, pretending not to know them, but Bianca gave one a subtle nod. Giulia caught it and scowled.
“I still think this is ridiculous,” Giulia whispered as they were shoved roughly toward the back of the van.
“Keep your voice down,” Bianca murmured. “They’re Consortium men. They’ll take us to the base if they believe we’re prisoners.”
Giulia winced when the man zip-tied her wrists. “They could’ve loosened it a little. I swear these idiots enjoy their jobs too much.”
Bianca didn’t reply. Her mind was running through every possible failure this plan could have. She couldn’t afford to think like a mother right now — she had to think like the strategist she once was.
As the van engine started, Giulia looked over at her. “What happens if Geneva doesn’t recognize us?”
Bianca’s throat tightened. “She will.”
“Mom,” Giulia said softly. “What if she doesn’t want to?”
Bianca looked away, her hands clenched in her lap. “Then I’ll make her remember.”
\---
Hours later, they were dragged into a room that smelled of metal and disinfectant. The blindfolds were rough against their faces, but Bianca could hear the footsteps — heavy boots, men moving with the precision of trained guards.
“Sit,” a voice ordered.
Giulia stumbled into a chair, her wrists aching. “I can’t even see where I’m sitting— ow, seriously—”
“Giulia,” Bianca hissed quietly.
“Sorry,” she muttered. “Just saying.”
Someone slammed a folder onto the table. “Bianca Moretti,” the voice said. “The ghost of the old world.”
Bianca kept her tone even. “You’ve done your research.”
“And Giulia,” the man continued, turning to her. “The daughter who disappeared with her.”
Giulia forced a smirk. “If this is an interrogation, you’re doing a terrible job.”
The man chuckled, the sound cold and dry. “You’ll talk soon enough.”
Bianca leaned forward slightly. “And what if we don’t?”
The man didn’t answer — just snapped his fingers. Someone struck Giulia hard across the face. She grunted, blood filling her mouth.
“Hey!” Bianca shouted, struggling against the ropes. “You touch her again and I swear—”
“Careful,” the man said calmly. “You’re in no position to make threats.”
As he turned to leave, Bianca subtly shifted in her chair. Beneath the table, she dropped a tiny tracker from her sleeve, pressing it into the dirt with her heel.
Giulia noticed and whispered, “You really came prepared for everything, didn’t you?”
“Not everything,” Bianca murmured. “But enough.”
\---