Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Sophia
T he sheets are a tangled mess around us. His arm rests over my waist, and for a moment, I think he's still asleep. But then it shifts—tentative at first, as if testing the weight of what just happened. Slowly, Alessio pulls away, the warmth of his body disappearing with him.
I sit up, the cool morning air biting against my skin. He's already halfway dressed, his shirt wrinkled as he pulls it over his head. There's a tension in his movements—controlled, purposeful, and distant.
"You think this was a mistake," I say.
He stops, his back still to me. "We have bigger problems than this," he mutters.
"That's not an answer."
He finally turns, his face hard. "You're right. It shouldn't have happened."
The words hit like a slap, but I refuse to let him see the sting. "It was just sex, Alessio. We can let this just be sex, okay?"
Something flashes in his eyes, but he doesn't speak. He simply nods his head and continues getting himself presentable.
I press the sheets into my naked chest and watch him get ready. I can't help but to feel this large knot in the middle of my chest. I knew what this was going into it. And yet still, here I am, feeling like I am being discarded to the side like I mean nothing.
Don't you dare cry , I scold myself internally. The last thing that I need is to come undone in front of the man I decided to hook up with last night.
"Get dressed. We have work to do," he shoots over his shoulder as he walks to the door. He doesn't wait for me to speak. He gets up from his position, and he makes his way out the door, leaving me.
Well, I guess last night didn't change anything after all.
The kitchen smells faintly of coffee and burnt toast, the stale remnants of a breakfast that neither of us ate. Alessio leans against the counter, his arms crossed, his eyes locked on the stack of files in front of him.
"What's the next move?" I ask, stepping into the room. There is no trace of hesitation. I just need to fake indifference until I naturally begin to feel it.
He glances at me, his expression unreadable. "We need to figure out Domenico's next play. He's consolidating power faster than we expected."
"Okay, so we need to stop running and figure out a way to stop him before he manages to get a vote cast by the five families."
He places a hand on the table, his fingers pressing into the wood. "We're not running. We are simply strategizing."
"No?" I step closer, my voice steady. "Because that's exactly what it feels like. You can't win a war by staying on the defensive, Alessio. Domenico is counting on us to hesitate, to be cautious. If we don't hit back soon, we'll lose."
His eyes darken, and I can feel the weight of his stare. "You think it's that simple?"
"No, I think it's necessary," I say sharply. "If you don't have the stomach for it, then tell me now. Because I do. That motherfucker killed my sister. Blood for blood. I won't let Domenico win—not after everything he's taken."
I see a glint in his eye. It only lasts a minute, but it's there. Respect and pride. He isn't looking at me like the lost little puppy he had to care for. He is looking at me like his peer.
The sharp knock on the cabin door interrupts the steadiness between us. Alessio moves instantly, his body tense as he reaches for the gun tucked at his side.
"It's me," comes a familiar voice.
Alessio exchanges a brief look with me before unlocking the door. Matteo steps in, brushing the cold off his shoulders, his eyes darting between the two of us. He's dressed in a dark coat, his expression grim but focused.
"Nice place," he says dryly, glancing around the sparse room. "Are you planning to stay here forever?"
"Matteo, always a pleasure. Get to the point," Alessio mutters, closing the door behind him.
Matteo doesn't waste time. He pulls a folder from under his coat and drops it on the table. "Domenico's moving faster than we thought. It's worse than we expected, Sophia. He's not just after power. He's looking to destroy any loyalty your father left behind."
I step forward, picking up the folder and flipping through its contents. Names, dates, transaction records. Each page is another stab in the back, another betrayal from someone who once claimed loyalty to my father. Domenico has been paying people off one by one in order to garner a strong enough foothold.
"What's his endgame?" I ask calmly despite the storm building inside me.
Matteo glances at Alessio before answering. "He's trying to dismantle the network your father built, piece by piece. He's already taken over two key territories in the south. If he consolidates those alliances, he'll have the numbers and resources to make a move on you directly."
"And then what?" I press. "He declares himself head of the family?"
"No," Alessio speaks with ice in his tone. "He wipes out anyone who could challenge him. That includes you. But first, he will seek out the vote of the five families. In order for him to usurp the throne, he will need to seek approval. We have laws and customs in our world, and he needs to abide by them."
The room falls silent, the weight of their words pressing down on me. But instead of fear, I feel something else—a steady, simmering resolve that sharpens my focus.
"Then we don't wait for him to come to us," I say, setting the folder down. "We take the fight to him."
Matteo raises an eyebrow. "Bold move. Risky, too."
"Waiting is riskier," I reply. "Every second we sit here, he's gaining ground. If we don't act now, we'll lose everything."
Alessio leans against the counter, his arms crossed as he watches me. "What's your plan, then?"
I meet his eyes. "We start with the people in that folder. The ones Domenico's been working with. We take them out of the equation—cut off his resources, his alliances. Make him vulnerable."
"And how do you plan to do that without tipping him off?" Alessio asks, his tone skeptical.
I glance at Matteo. "That's where you come in."
Matteo smirks, leaning back in his chair. "What do you need?"
"Contacts. Resources. And leverage," I say firmly. "You know these people better than I do. You know their weaknesses, their loyalties. Or lack of them. If we can turn even a few of them against Domenico, it'll destabilize his entire operation."
Alessio's expression hardens. "And if they don't turn?"
"Then we take them out." The coolness in my tone evident. Spilling blood is not in my nature, but it is something that is embedded in my DNA.
Matteo's smirk fades, and Alessio's stare sharpens, but neither of them argues.
"A little on the crazy side," Matteo says after a moment. "I would say leaning to borderline dangerous. It might just work."
Alessio pushes off the counter, stepping closer to the table. "This is a war that you are inciting, Sophia. If we do this, there's no going back."
"There never was," I reply, holding his glower.
The room falls silent again, the weight of the decision settling over us. But for the first time, I feel like I'm in control—not just reacting, but leading.
Matteo flips through the folder, landing on a photo of a man in his mid-50s with thinning hair and tired eyes.
"Luigi Mancini," he says, tapping the page. "He handles logistics for Domenico's shipments of laced opioids. Not a major player, but he knows the routes, the schedules, everything. If we lean on him, he'll crack."
I nod, the beginnings of a plan taking shape in my mind. "We hit him first. Cut off Domenico's shipments, and his network starts to fall apart."
Alessio steps closer, his arms crossed, his expression thoughtful. "Hitting Mancini is one thing, but taking out a logistics head won't be enough. If Domenico thinks we're picking off the edges of his operation, he'll close ranks. We need to go bigger."
Matteo raises an eyebrow. "What are you thinking?"
"A warehouse," Alessio says. He picks up a separate sheet from the stack, pointing to a location circled in red. "This one in the industrial district. Domenico uses it to store his most valuable shipments before they're moved out of the city. If we take it out, it sends a message."
"And we cripple his supply chain," I add, stepping next to Alessio to look at the map.
Matteo whistles low. "That's a big move. You realize he'll come after you hard if you pull this off."
"Good," I reply firmly. "Let him. I'm done waiting for him to make the first move."
For a moment, neither of them speaks. Matteo watches me with a mix of curiosity and approval, but it's Alessio's reaction I notice most. He doesn't say anything, but there's a subtle shift in his expression—something close to pride flickering in his eyes before he looks away.
"What's the security like at the warehouse?" I ask, focusing back on the plan.
"Tight," Alessio answers. "Armed guards on rotation, cameras, and Domenico's men know that place like the back of their hand. If we're going in, we need to be surgical. No mistakes."
"We'll need a distraction," Matteo says, rubbing his chin. "Something to pull their attention away while we hit the main target."
"I can arrange that," Alessio says, already reaching for his phone. "We'll use one of the old contacts in the south to stage a false lead. Make Domenico think there's trouble elsewhere."
"Good, we have our plan, now we wait to strike." I close the folder and stare at the two men before me.
Alessio studies me for a moment, and I can see the tension in his jaw. But then he nods, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
"You're finally starting to sound like a leader."
The words catch me off guard, but I don't let it show. Instead, I stand a little straighter. "It's about damn time, too."
The three of us fall into planning mode, mapping out routes and contingencies. By the time we're done, the sun has started to set, casting the cabin in golden light.
The seconds bleed into the hours, and with each tick of the hand, we draw closer to what will be the end of this torrid nightmare.
I am coming for you Domenico. I have three bullets with your name on them.