33. Betrayal
Chapter thirty-three
Betrayal
(Dante)
The basement air hangs thick with the familiar scent of fear and blood.
Dimitri Volkov whimpers pathetically in the corner, his once-defiant posture now permanently stooped from weeks of questioning.
Ever since we captured him, he's been a reluctant fountain of information—names, routes, connections we never would have discovered otherwise.
He had way more access than his little brother Tolya.
But one question continues to gnaw at me: Who betrayed us? There was no way those thugs would've gotten into our wedding without insider help. And who fucked us over during that first failed ambush?
While Danica's been upstairs revolutionizing our future, I've been down here hunting the ghosts of our past. Somewhere, I smell a rat. And I don't tolerate rats.
"Tell me again," I demand, circling the chair where Dimitri sits trembling. "The night before the ambush. Who did you speak with?"
"I told you everything!" His accent thickens with desperation. "My contact—he said you were coming. Said when, how many men."
"A name, Dimitri." My patience, worn thin by weeks of damage control and family politics, threatens to snap entirely. "I want a name."
Dimitri's watery eyes dart around the room, seeking escape where there is none. "Bozhe moy...he will kill me!"
"I'm not feeling particularly merciful either." I lean in close enough to smell his fear-sweat. "The difference is, I can make it last for days."
He mumbles something I can't quite catch.
"What was that?" I grab his chin, forcing his face up to mine.
"Vitale," he whispers, the name barely audible. "Leo Vitale."
The floor seems to shift beneath my feet. Not possible. Leo has been with the family for fifteen years. He's godfather to Emilio's youngest grandson, for fuck’s sake.
"You're lying." My voice sounds distant, even to my own ears.
"Why would I lie now?" Dimitri's laugh holds the hysteria of a man with nothing left to lose. "He reached out months ago. Said he was tired of working for scraps while you lived like a king."
The pieces slot together with sickening clarity. Leo's recent purchases—the new car, the vacation home his salary couldn't possibly cover. His convenient absence the day we moved on the club. The way he always seemed to be away from his post when crucial information needed relaying.
I straighten, my decision already made. "Thank you for your cooperation, Dimitri."
"Does this mean I can go?" Hope flickers across his battered face—a hope I have no intention of fulfilling.
I don't bother answering. He knows the truth as well as I do. There is no walking away from this basement. His brothers are already rotting in the ground for their sins.
Upstairs, the house is alive with activity.
Through the open door of the library, I glimpse Danica with Luigi, poring over financial structures and legal frameworks for her brilliant new plan.
It's been three days since her revelation on the terrace, and I've never seen her so focused, so alive.
While she builds our future, I need to clear the debris of our past.
This is old business—the kind of work I've been trying to leave behind. The kind she wants to transform into something legitimate. But before we can move forward, I need to cut out the cancer in our ranks.
Emilio answers on the first ring. "Boss?"
"Bring Leo in." I keep my voice steady, controlled. "Tell him it's about security for the new company venture. Be discreet.
A pause. Emilio knows me too well. "Understood, Don mio."
Four hours later, as evening shadows lengthen across the garden, Leo Vitale stands in my office, shoulders squared, face betraying nothing but professional interest.
"You wanted to see me, Don Fera?" He's clean-shaven, immaculate in his dark suit. The perfect soldier.
The perfect traitor.
"Sit down, Leo." I gesture to the chair across from my desk. "Drink?"
"No, thank you, sir." He sits, posture relaxed but alert. Fifteen years of service has taught him my routines, my tells. He's watching for signs of trouble, but I've had decades to perfect my mask.
I pour myself two fingers of whiskey, taking my time. "How do you feel about our progress with the ports?"
He blinks, clearly thrown by the question. "The ports? It's going well. We're winning."
"Seems that way." I nod, swirling the amber liquid. "New beginnings all around."
"Yes, sir." He shifts slightly. "It will be a significant change."
"Change is inevitable." I study his face. "We adapt or we die. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Of course, Don Fera."
I sip my whiskey, letting silence fill the space between us. Leo holds my gaze, but I notice the faint sheen of sweat at his temple.
"Funny thing about new beginnings," I continue finally. "They often require cleaning up old messes first."
His fingers tighten almost imperceptibly on the armrest. "Sir?"
"The port ambush, Leo." I set my glass down carefully. "Before we move forward, I need to understand what went wrong."
"We were double-crossed," he says smoothly. "The Russians were waiting."
"Yes, they were." I lean forward. "But how did they know? Who told them?"
Leo's expression remains neutral, professional. "We've been investigating—"
"No need." I cut him off. "Dimitri Volkov has been very...forthcoming."
The blood drains from his face so quickly it's almost comical. "Sir, I don't—"
"Don't insult me further by lying." My voice drops to a dangerous whisper. "Traditore." Traitor.
Leo's hand twitches toward his weapon, but Emilio steps from the shadows behind him, pressing the cold barrel of a gun against the base of his skull.
"How long?" I ask, genuine curiosity mixing with fury. "How long have you been selling us out?"
Leo's shoulders slump, the charade abandoned. "Five months. Since the new territories opened up. I—"
"Five months." The words taste like ash as I cut him off. "Seven men died at those ports. Carlo died."
"I didn't know it would be so many," he whispers. "They promised just enough resistance to make it look real. Then things...escalated."
"And what did your honor cost these days, Leo? What was the price for our blood?"
His silence is answer enough.
I stand, moving around the desk to face him directly. "I trusted you. Brought you into my home. Let you near my wife."
"It was just business," he pleads. "Nothing personal."
A laugh escapes me—bitter, cold. "That's where you're wrong. Everything in this life is personal."
The next part is mechanical, practiced. The questions that need answers. The information that must be secured. Leo talks, of course. They always do. Names, dates, meeting places. The full extent of his betrayal mapped out in trembling confessions.
When it's done, when there's nothing left to learn, I nod to Emilio. My oldest friend, my most loyal soldier, understands without words.
"Your family won't suffer for your mistakes," I tell Leo as Emilio prepares to lead him away. "Your daughter will finish university. Your wife will be provided for."
Gratitude and shame war on his face. "Thank you, Don Fera."
"Don't thank me." My voice hardens. "This mercy isn't for you. It's for them. They deserve better than a traitor's legacy."
He nods, accepting his fate with what little dignity remains to him.
"One more thing, Leo."
He turns at the door, eyes already dead.
"Was it worth it?"
The question hangs between us.
"No," he whispers finally. "Nothing could be."
At least in this, he tells the truth.
Later, when Emilio returns alone, I don't ask for details. Some actions belong to the shadows, even between us. It couldn’t have been easy for him.
"It's done," he says simply, accepting the glass I offer.
"Quietly?"
"Sì, Don mio."
We sit in silence for a long moment, the weight of necessary violence heavy between us.
"Will you tell the Donna?" Emilio asks finally.
I consider the question, thinking of Danica in the library downstairs, excitement in her eyes as she builds something new, something legitimate. Of the future we're planning, the life we're trying to create.
"Yes," I decide. "No more secrets between us. She needs to know it's truly over."
Emilio nods, understanding. In our world, truth is often the only luxury we can afford.
As I look out over the garden, I feel a weight lifting. This was the last piece of unfinished business, the final thread connecting me to the old ways. With Leo gone, with the betrayal resolved, I can step fully into whatever comes next.
"The flights to Bali are confirmed for tomorrow," Emilio says, breaking the silence. "Security has been arranged at both ends."
"And the families?"
"They've all received notice that you'll be unreachable for two weeks. Any matters requiring attention will go through myself while you're away."
I nod, satisfied. "And Danica's plans for the corporation?"
"The preliminary paperwork is being drawn up. It will be ready for review when you return." He hesitates. "The Vincis are already asking questions."
"Let them ask. By the time we're back, they'll be desperate enough to accept her terms."
Emilio's rare smile flashes. "Donna Fera has changed everything, hasn't she?"
"For the better," I agree, feeling the truth of it in my bones.
***
I find Danica in our bedroom, already packing for tomorrow's departure. The sight of her—barefoot, hair loose around her shoulders, humming softly as she folds clothes—settles something in me that's been restless for years.
"It's done," I say simply, leaning against the doorframe.
She turns, pausing with a silk blouse in her hands. "You found who betrayed us?"
I nod, crossing the threshold into our shared sanctuary. "Leo Vitale. Been selling us out for months."
Her eyes widen slightly, then narrow. "Leo? The same Leo who carried me to safety when I twisted my ankle at the airport last year?"
"The very same." My voice is tight. "Dimitri confirmed it. Then Leo confessed everything."
She processes this, her clever mind connecting the dots I can almost see forming behind her eyes. "That why he conveniently missed the ambush?"
"Exactly. He won't be a problem anymore."
Danica sets down the blouse, crossing to me. "Good." A single word containing multitudes. Not judgment, not horror—just acceptance. Understanding of what needed to be done.
"The last loose end," I tell her, pulling her into my arms. "Nothing hanging over us now."
She leans against my chest, her hands sliding up to rest on my shoulders. "Perfect timing for our honeymoon."
"Two weeks of nothing but you, me, and Alessio waiting for us in paradise." I press my lips to her neck, breathing in her scent. "No ports, no families, no betrayals."
"Just us," she agrees, tilting her face up to mine. Her eyes search my expression, finding whatever she's looking for. "No more looking over our shoulders?"
"Not for this. Leo was working alone. Greedy, not ideological." I stroke her cheek. "The threat is eliminated."
She nods, returning to her packing with renewed purpose. "Then Bali awaits."
Some chapters must close before others can begin.
And now, finally, we can turn the page.