Chapter 104: Insurance Policy

Chapter 104: Insurance Policy
The rest house sat deep in the hills, surrounded by pine and silence. The kind of place meant for vanishing. Lindsay had been there for a week, and the stillness was starting to get under her skin.
She paced the living room, barefoot on the marble floor, the only sound the occasional creak of the old beams overhead. When Damon finally stepped in, she didn’t wait for him to settle.
“How long am I supposed to stay here, Damon?” she asked, voice tight. “I can’t keep doing this. It feels like a damn prison.”
Damon poured himself a drink before answering. “It’s not forever,” he said. “Just until I sort things out with the Sicilians and Cardini.”
Lindsay folded her arms. “You’ve been saying that for days.”
He looked at her, calm as ever. “Because it’s the truth. I’m working on it. And the Cardini isn’t something you rush, baby.”
She let out a laugh, though there wasn’t much humor in it. “The Cardini. You mean those people who just showed up and wanted to take me?”
“Yes. And Sergei showing up, taking an interest in you is exactly why you need to stay put,” Damon said, setting the glass down on the counter. “If Sergei really wanted to take you, you’d already be gone. He was there to send a message, not to act on it.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“I’ve seen how the Cardini operates,” he said. “If they’d been serious, Sergei wouldn’t have wasted time talking. You’d have vanished before you even knew he was in the room.”
Lindsay frowned, turning the thought over. “So what, this is just a warning?”
“Something like that.” Damon walked closer, his tone steady. “They’re letting me know they’re aware of you, of what happened with Dieter. But this isn’t about you, baby. They’re just using you to rattle me.”
She sank into the couch, rubbing her hands together. “And if they decide to make it about me?”
“Then I’ll handle it,” he said, like it was that simple.
Lindsay looked up at him. “You keep saying that, but you started this, Damon. You killed Dieter. You’ve pissed off half of Europe.”
He smiled faintly, though his eyes stayed cold. “You think I don’t know that? That’s why I need you quiet. Hidden. I’ll take care of the rest.”
Silence stretched between them. Outside, the wind stirred the trees, and for a moment, the house felt even more remote.
Lindsay finally spoke. “You really think they’ll let this go?”
“No,” Damon said. “But I’ll make them.”
She studied him for a long moment, then nodded. “Fine. I’ll stay. But I don’t like it.”
“You don’t have to,” he said, picking up his keys. “Just do it.”
He paused at the door, looking back at her. “I’ll come back later tonight. Valerie’s in Macau—means I can spend more time here with you.”
Lindsay didn’t reply. She just leaned back against the couch and watched him go.
When the door shut, the silence came back. She stared at the drink he’d left behind, the ice already half-melted, and muttered to herself, “You better know what you’re doing, Damon.”
Then she let out a long, deep breath and slumped against the couch. She didn’t hear Enzo come in until his shadow fell across the room.
“You’re getting too comfortable here,” he said.
Lindsay snapped her head up. “Jesus, Enzo—ever heard of knocking?”
He ignored that. “Who were you talking to?”
She blinked, feigning confusion. “What? I thought we already went over this.”
“Damon’s starting to suspect,” he said, stepping closer. “And if one of the Sicilians—or worse, the Cardinis—shows up here, we’re done. All of us. So I’ll ask again—who the hell were you talking to the other day?”
Lindsay crossed her arms, chin lifting. “I told you, it was my mom. Want me to call her? Put her on speaker this time?”
Enzo’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t buy it then, and I sure as hell don’t buy it now.”
Lindsay let out a soft laugh. “You really think I’m stupid enough to talk to anyone else while Damon’s out there cleaning up this mess?”
“I think you’re reckless enough to do something that’ll get both of us killed,” he said. “So yeah, I think you’re hiding something.”
Her expression hardened, then shifted into something sly. She dug up her phone from her front pocket and turned it toward him. “You sure you want to play this game with me?”
Enzo frowned. “What are you doing?”
She tapped the screen, and a video started playing. Enzo’s face appeared—his hand tangled in Lindsay’s hair, her mouth on his.
The color drained from his face. “What the hell is that?”
“Proof,” she said calmly. “In case you ever decide to get self-righteous.”
Enzo’s pulse kicked up. “You recorded us?”
“Insurance,” she said. “Relax. I’m not showing it to anyone, or Damon, unless I have to.”
“You…” He stepped closer and said between gritted teeth. “Delete it.”
“Not a chance.”
He lunged.
Lindsay gasped as he grabbed for the phone, but she yanked it away, twisting toward the couch. He caught her wrist, trying to pry the device from her hand. She fought back, nails catching his skin.
“Enzo—stop it!”
“Give it to me, Lindsay!” he shouted, struggling to pull it free.
They stumbled into the coffee table, knocking a glass to the floor. It shattered, scattering across the tiles. Lindsay tried to use her weight to shove him off, but Enzo was stronger, and panic drove him harder.
Then the door opened, and both of them froze.
Damon stood in the doorway, keys still in hand, eyes flicking from Lindsay to Enzo—the distance between them, the tension in their bodies, the smashed glass.
“What the hell is going on here?” he asked.
Enzo stepped back first, breathing hard. “Nothing, boss. Just—she dropped her phone.”
Lindsay straightened her hair, clutching the device tight against her chest. “Yeah. It’s nothing.”
Damon looked between them. Whatever he’d walked in on, it wasn’t nothing. The silence and the tension said enough. He shut the door behind him.
“I forgot to give you something,” he said to Lindsay. “But now I’m thinking I should’ve just kept driving.” He took another step forward, eyes never leaving them. “Let’s try that again. What exactly happened here?”