Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Sophia
T he hum of the engine fills the car, low and steady, but it does nothing to settle the chaos in my mind. I sit rigid in the passenger seat, staring out the window as the city blurs by. Alessio drives in silence, his focus locked on the road, but I know he feels it too—the weight of what's coming.
I grip the edge of my seat, my knuckles turning pale as images of Domenico flash through my mind. Every betrayal, every lie, and worst of all— her . My sister. The sister I thought was taken from us too soon, her death just another cruel twist of fate.
But it wasn't fate. It was Domenico.
"You're quiet," Alessio says, breaking through my thoughts.
I don't look at him. "Don't pretend you don't know why."
He exhales slowly, his hands firm on the wheel. "You're angry."
"Of course, I'm angry," I snap, finally turning to face him. "Domenico stole her, Alessio. He turned my sister into a pawn, and I didn't even know. I sat at family dinners with him. I smiled. I trusted him. And the entire time…" I trail off, trembling with barely contained fury.
Alessio doesn't respond right away. Instead, he glances at me, his dark eyes holding something steady—something that keeps me from unraveling completely.
"We're going to stop him, Sophia. You'll have your chance to make this right."
I shake my head, the anger inside me twisting into something almost unbearable. "It'll never be right. Not after what he did to her." I pause. "But I'll make him pay for it."
Alessio doesn't argue. He knows better. Instead, he pulls the car into a narrow alley, parking in the shadow of an old brick building. The safe house Matteo arranged for this meeting isn't as inconspicuous as the last. It's a renovated industrial loft, tucked into the edge of a forgotten neighborhood, the windows darkened from the outside.
"We're here," Alessio says, cutting the engine.
He steps out first, scanning the area as always. I follow, pulling my coat tighter around me against the biting wind. My boots crunch against the gravel, the noise far too loud in the stillness.
Inside, the space is cold and empty, the air thick with dust and faint traces of oil. The remnants of machinery from the building's past life still linger along the walls—old metal gears and forgotten pulleys. Matteo is waiting for us near a large wooden table in the center of the room, a few sheets of paper spread across its surface.
"About time," Matteo mutters, glancing up as we approach. "You took the scenic route?"
"Traffic," Alessio replies flatly.
Matteo snorts, his usual smirk faltering when he looks at me. I don't have to say anything—he knows the look in my eyes. He can feel it.
"Tell me you've got something," I speak sharper than I intended.
Matteo straightens, tapping one of the papers on the table. "We do. Domenico's making his move sooner than expected. He's arranging a meeting with the heads of three families—Caruso, Gustov, and Macron."
The names alone are enough to send a chill down my spine. "Those families have always backed my father," I say. "They wouldn't turn on my father, would they?"
"Yes. Yes they would. The name of the game is money and power."
"How much time do we have?" Alessio asks calmly but clipped.
Matteo shrugs, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "Two days, maximum five. The meeting's happening at one of Domenico's warehouses. He's locked it down—guards, checkpoints, everything."
I look up sharply. "Then we hit him there."
Alessio's eyes flick to mine, but he doesn't say anything. Matteo, however, doesn't hold back.
"Are you insane? You want to walk straight into Domenico's stronghold while he's surrounded by allies?"
"It's the only way," I say. "If we let this meeting happen, we lose."
Matteo looks at Alessio like he expects him to argue, but Alessio stays quiet, watching me with that same unreadable expression he always wears. Finally, Matteo sighs, throwing up his hands.
"This is suicide."
"No," Alessio says finally. "It's necessary."
I turn to him, surprised by his agreement. For the first time, he doesn't look like he's doubting me or questioning my decisions. There's something in his stare that feels almost like… respect.
"We'll need a plan," Alessio says, stepping closer to the table. "We can't go in blind. Matteo, get us the layouts for the warehouse and a list of everyone Domenico's bringing with him."
Matteo grumbles under his breath but nods, already pulling out his phone. "You're both out of your damn minds."
"Maybe," I say, "but Domenico made this personal. I won't let him win."
I straighten, feeling the fire inside me harden into something sharper. Something cold. My hatred for Domenico burns like an ember that refuses to die, a constant reminder of what he did to my sister—what he stole from me. My family will be avenged.
And when I'm done, Domenico will have nothing left.
A few hours later, we are done with our planning and prepping, and we are ready. The sound of Matteo typing on his phone fills the loft, his fingers moving in quick, frustrated taps as Alessio leans over the table. The large wooden surface is now scattered with maps, notes, and schematics—pieces of a plan forming out of chaos.
Matteo mutters another curse but finally stops pacing. "Fine. What's the plan for the distraction?"
I exhale, turning back to the blueprint. "We'll need explosives, enough to cripple his supply depot but not bring down the entire block. Matteo, can you handle that?"
Matteo's lips twitch into something close to a grin. "Explosives? That I can do."
"Good," I say firmly. "Alessio and I will handle the warehouse infiltration while Domenico's men are occupied. We'll get inside, crash the meeting, and expose him for what he's done."
"And if they don't believe you?" Matteo asks, arching an eyebrow.
I meet his eyes. I see the coldness. "Then I'll make them believe me."
Matteo lets out a low whistle, shaking his head. "You've got more guts than sense sometimes, Sophia. I like it."
I let out a low laugh. "I'll take that as a compliment."
The three of us make the final tweaks to the plan, and finally, we come to a conclusion, and we are ready to roll.
Night falls far too quickly for my liking, and suddenly, it's show time. I heave a heavy breath and say a silent prayer. This is do or die. I have no idea if I am going to walk out of here dead or alive, but my hope is that it's alive.
The hum of the engine is the only sound as Matteo drives through the city. I sit in the backseat, my focus fixed on the faint outline of Domenico's warehouse in the distance. From here, it looks harmless—quiet and unassuming—but I know better.
My stomach twists, not with fear, but with a cold, unrelenting resolve. I can still hear Alessio's words from earlier— Don't let it consume you —but it already has. The hatred I feel for Domenico sits heavy in my chest, pushing me forward.
"Two blocks out," Matteo mutters, his tone clipped as he takes a hard turn.
Alessio sits in the passenger seat, scanning the area. Every movement he makes feels deliberate, his focus unshakable. I draw a slow breath, trying to steady myself.
"You're quiet back there." Matteo's eyes catch mine through the rearview.
"I'm thinking," I reply.
"Don't overthink it," Alessio says, turning just enough to look at me. "Stick to the plan."
The plan. I repeat it in my head like a mantra—strike Domenico's meeting, expose him for what he is, and take back control. It's clear, simple even. But something about this doesn't feel right. The silence in the car, the tension in the air—it's different tonight.
Matteo pulls the SUV into an alley, killing the lights.
"We're here," he announces.
We step out onto the cracked pavement, the cold biting at my skin as I pull my coat tighter. The warehouse looms in front of us, surrounded by shadows, its steel walls faintly illuminated by the dim glow of the streetlights.
Matteo's phone buzzes in his pocket, breaking the silence. He pulls it out, frowning as he reads the message.
"What is it?" Alessio asks sharply.
"Nothing," Matteo replies quickly, shoving the phone back into his jacket. "Just the boys confirming the distraction's set. We're clear to move."
He's lying.
I don't know how I know, but I do. The way he avoided Alessio's eyes, the tension in his movements—it's off. My heart gives a hard thud in my chest, and I force myself to focus.
"Let's go," Alessio says, motioning for me to follow.
We stick to the shadows as we approach the warehouse. My pulse pounds louder with every step, my hand hovering near the gun at my side. I scan the area, searching for movement, but everything is still. Too still.
Alessio reaches the side entrance first, testing the handle. It's unlocked.
He freezes, exchanging a look with me. Unlocked means they're expecting us.
"It's a trap," I whisper inaudibly.
Alessio nods slightly, but his expression stays calm. "We move fast. Stick close to me."
Before I can respond, Matteo cuts through the quiet. "Guys, wait."
We both turn toward him, but Matteo doesn't look at us. He's standing a few steps back, his hands at his sides, his body tense. For a split second, I don't understand what's happening. Then I see them—shadows moving at the edge of the alley, faint silhouettes stepping into view.
Domenico's men.
The realization hits me like a punch to the gut.
"Matteo," I say sharply. "What did you do?"
He doesn't answer, but his face says everything. He won't meet my eyes, and then he finally speaks.
"I didn't have a choice, Sophia."
"You son of a—" Alessio steps forward, his gun raised in an instant, but Matteo holds up his hands.
"Stop!" Matteo says quickly, desperate. "You think I wanted to do this? Domenico got to me. He's got people on my family. My sister , Alessio. I couldn't…" He trails off.
"I could have protected your family, had you only told me. Fucking hell, Matteo," Alessio growls, his finger steady on the trigger.
"I'm sorry," Matteo replies, though he doesn't sound like he believes it himself.
I feel sick. Everything we've planned—everything I've been fighting for—it's been turned against us. Matteo sold us out, and Domenico is waiting for us inside.
"Get out of here," Matteo whispers. "Before they close in. You can still?—"
A gunshot cuts him off. The sound is deafening in the stillness, and Matteo staggers back, his eyes wide with shock before he collapses onto the ground.
Alessio spins toward the alley, firing two quick shots into the shadows.
"Move!" he yells, grabbing my arm and pulling me toward the warehouse entrance.
Bullets tear through the air as Domenico's men close in, the crack of gunfire echoing off the steel walls. I run, my heart pounding, only one thought in my head: Matteo betrayed us.
I will have his head for what he has done to us. If I live after this, that is.
Alessio shoves open the warehouse door, pulling me inside as bullets ping off the metal frame. The door slams shut behind us, plunging us into darkness. I press my back against the cold wall, trying to catch my breath, my gun shaking slightly in my grip.
Alessio stands beside me, his face shadowed but hard, his breathing ragged. "Are you hit?"
"No," I manage, forcing the word out. "You?"
"I'm fine," he mutters, peeking through a crack in the door. "We don't have long. They'll be inside any second."
The betrayal still sits heavy in my chest, but I push it down. I can't afford to think about why he did it or what it means. Right now, all that matters is survival.
Alessio turns to me, his expression unreadable in the dark. "We change plans. We get Domenico tonight. He will be here, I'm sure of it."
I nod, steadying my breath, my hatred for Domenico burning hotter than ever. He didn't just take my sister. He didn't just betray my family. Now, he's taken someone else from me—Matteo, a man I trusted.
"This ends tonight," I whisper, the words more of a vow than a promise.
"Let's finish it."
We are on a suicide mission. But as long as I take Domenico with me, then it doesn't matter.