Chapter 11 Gianna
Gianna
My hands won't stop shaking.
I've encrypted Angelo's latest audio files three times now, but my fingers keep slipping on the keyboard. That night's storm was a gift—as I placed additional bugs throughout his penthouse. The rain pelting against the windows drowned out any telltale electronic whine.
I captured everything I needed; that midnight call with his Zurich banker will be the final nail in the Bellanti coffin. Kaif will be ecstatic.
But there's something else. Something that makes my stomach twist into knots.
I play the audio once again. It's a conversation in Mandarin. I can hear Veronica talking in Mandarin to someone. I catch fragments—"network security" and "access protocols"—but my Mandarin is kindergarten-level at best. Still, the hushed urgency in their voices tells me everything I need to know.
Something is very wrong.
My fingers hover over the keyboard before I forward the recording to our language specialist. I mark it urgent, though that hardly captures the dread pooling in my gut. If Veronica's been compromised...
The message alert on my burner phone makes me jump.
Kaif: "Kovacs is making big moves. Bellanti assets frozen across Asia. Prepare for extraction within 24 hours."
I read it twice, my heartbeat thudding in my ears. Extraction. Twenty-four hours. After six months undercover, everything's collapsing like a house of cards in a hurricane.
My phone buzzes in my other pocket.
Angelo: "Emergency meeting. All consultants. 1 hour."
I'm gathering my things—hands still shaking, damn it—when the specialist calls back.
"That conversation," he says without preamble, his voice tight. "They're discussing the sale of access points to financial networks. The male voice specifically mentioned 'Kovac payment confirmed.' Does that mean anything to your case?"
The phone nearly slips from my suddenly numb fingers. "Yes," I manage. "Send the full translation to Kaif. Now."
I hang up and lean against the wall, the room tilting sideways. Veronica works for the Kovacs. The pieces fit together in my mind.
We've been so laser-focused on the Bellantis—their fraud, their offshore accounts, their market manipulation—that we completely missed the wolves circling them. Wolves with sharper teeth.
—
The cab ride to Bellanti Holdings feels like watching someone else's life through fogged glass. Neon lights blur and smear across rain-streaked windows. Horns blare in a city that never sleeps, never stops, never gives you a moment to just fucking think.
My burner phone vibrates. Kaif. I answer immediately.
"Rossi, it's gone nuclear." Her voice crackles with tension." We're coordinating with local law enforcement. The Kovacs have people inside the building." She pauses, and I can almost hear her choosing her words. "This isn't just financial crime anymore. Get out. Now."
"But Angelo—"
"Angelo Bellanti is not your problem." Kaif's voice cuts through mine like a blade. "If you're still there when this turns into a firefight, I can't guarantee extraction. This is an order, Agent Rossi. Leave."
"Understood," I reply.
I end the call and silence the phone, burying it deep in my bag. The rational part of my brain—the part that got me through Quantico—screams that Kaif is right. This isn't my fight anymore.
But something stronger overrides ten years of training and protocol. Something I've been denying for months.
Angelo might be a criminal. His family might have built an empire on fraud and deception. But he doesn't deserve to die.
At least that's what I tell myself as the elevator climbs toward his floor.
—
Security has tripled. Guards are placed at every entry and exit point, and employees are thankfully leaving the building.
When I reach Angelo's office, he's alone, facing the windows.
"Close the door, Agent Rossi," he says without turning.
My real name in his mouth sends electricity crackling down my spine.
When he finally faces me, his expression is unreadable, a mask I've never seen before. He holds up the pen holder I'd given him last month—the one with the surveillance equipment nestled inside like a cuckoo's egg.
"How long?" The question hangs between us, heavy with all that's about to shatter.
I don't bother lying. We're past that now. "Six months."
"SEC?"
"Yes. Look, I need to tell you something about Veronica—"
Before I can say more, his phone rings. As Angelo answers, something shifts in him—the betrayed man vanishes, replaced by something colder, more calculating. It's terrifying how complete the transformation is.
"When?" A pause. "Lock it down. Everything. Protocol Blackout. Now."
He sets the phone down as if it might bite him. "The SEC just raided our Hong Kong office." His eyes burn into mine—not just with anger but with something that cuts deeper, that makes me want to look away. "And the Kovacs have accessed our entire network through Veronica."
His laptop chimes. Veronica appears on screen, her smile victorious in a way that makes my skin crawl.
"Angelo, darling. I'm sorry it came to this." Her voice carries no remorse, only satisfaction, like a cat who's finally cornered a clever mouse.
"Why?" His voice is unnervingly calm, but I see the muscle jumping in his jaw, the white-knuckled grip on his desk.
"Twenty years of making you shine while I stayed in the shadows." She shrugs, elegant even in betrayal. "The Kovacs made a more favorable offer".
"You were family," Angelo says, and something cracks in him—just a hairline fracture, but I catch it. Raw pain bleeds through.
Veronica laughs. "Family doesn't exist in our world, Angelo. You, of all people, should know that."
The call ends. Angelo turns towards me, his gaze hard.
"What does the SEC have on my business?" The question cuts.
"Angelo, what matters now isn't what the SEC has on you, to be honest.”
His brows furrow together. “What do you mean?”
I exhale sharply. “It's about the Kovacs. They aren't just after your business. They've contracted a hit on you—today, while you're distracted. That's what this is truly about."
His eyes narrow in suspicion. "And why would you tell me this?"
"Because you don't deserve to die," I say, the truth burning my throat. "And the Kovacs are worse."
He studies me, searching for lies.
"If we survive this," he says finally, "whatever we had is finished. You understand that?"
I nod, ignoring the ache spreading through my chest like poison. "I understand."
"Was any of it real?" The question strikes without warning. "Or was I just a mark from the beginning?"
His security chief bursts in before I have to answer. "Sir, they're already in the building."
Angelo immediately activates building-wide security protocols and then hands me a secure tablet. "Execute this code sequence while I handle security."
As he heads for the door, I call after him, "Be careful." The words escape before I can catch them.
Angelo pauses, a smile ghosting across his face. "I've been dealing with people trying to kill me since I was sixteen. This is an ordinary Tuesday for the Bellantis."
Then he's gone, leaving me alone with his financial empire at my fingertips and his question echoing in the space between us.
Yes, it was real. All of it. That's what makes this so goddamn impossible.
—
I execute Angelo's financial countermeasures, watching in grudging admiration as his code systematically severs the Kovacs' access to Bellanti assets. It's elegant, precise—like watching a surgeon excise a tumor.
My burner phone vibrates again from the bottom of my bag. I pull it out reluctantly.
Kaif again.
The message is concise: "Tactical team 5 minutes out. Final warning. Leave now or be hostile."
I stare at the screen, something tight and painful closing around my throat.
Six months undercover.
A career-making case.
And here I am, risking it all for a man who now hates me. A man who probably, at least according to the law, belongs behind bars.
A man I can't bear to see hurt.
I turn the phone off and toss it aside.
Through the tablet, I watch building security cameras. A heat signature moves toward Angelo's position—someone they missed. My heart stutters in my chest.
I grab my gun from its ankle holster and run. The hallway stretches endlessly before me, my footsteps echoing against marble. Six months of lies, and now I might be the only thing between Angelo and a bullet.
I round the corner just as the gunman takes aim at Angelo's back. Without hesitation, I fire. The shot cracks against marble as the man crumples.
Angelo whirls around, staring at the fallen hitman, then at me, gun still raised. His eyes widen, disbelief warring with something that looks dangerously like hope.
"You just saved my life," he says quietly, searching my face for answers I'm not sure I have. "Why?"
Our eyes lock. "Because this was never about killing you. No, it was about justice against criminals like the Kovacs." I take a breath that shudders through me. "And because..." I stop. The words stick in my throat, too honest, too raw to voice.
Angelo's tablet buzzes from where I kept it under my blazer: the Kovacs' financial attack has been neutralized, their own assets frozen by his countermeasures. It's a minor victory in this chaos.
Security also confirms the building is clear—hit team neutralized.
Silence stretches between us, heavy with everything unsaid. Six months of deception and something else that grew alongside it, something neither of us planned for.
"Are you going to take me in?" he finally asks.
"That depends," I say, holstering my weapon, "on what you do next."