8. The Mole Revealed #3
The distant sound of car doors slamming echoed from outside, and I knew our clean-up crew was finishing the job. I took one last drag from my cigarette before dropping it, grinding the embers into the concrete with the heel of my boot.
“Let’s get out of here.”
The drive back to my estate was quiet.
Enzo kept his eyes on the road, his fingers drumming lightly against the steering wheel. I stared out the window, my thoughts tangled somewhere between the past and the future.
I had done what needed to be done.
But something still felt unfinished.
No, not something.
Someone.
Nichole’s face flashed through my mind before I could shove it away.
I had spent the past forty-eight hours tearing through my enemies, eliminating threats, securing my position. But no matter how much blood had been spilled, no matter how much rage had been burned away in violence, she was still there. Still in my head.
That wasn’t something I could afford.
Not now.
Not ever.
I exhaled slowly, rolling my neck, willing the tension to ease from my shoulders. It didn’t.
I needed a distraction. A new focus.
And then, as if the universe had heard my thoughts, Enzo’s phone buzzed on the dashboard.
He glanced at the screen before picking it up, answering with a clipped, “Yeah?”
A pause. Then his jaw tightened.
I watched his grip on the steering wheel flex slightly before he muttered, “Understood,” and ended the call.
I arched a brow. “Problem?”
Enzo exhaled sharply, tossing the phone onto the dashboard. “Not a problem.” A beat of silence. Then—“But we might have a visitor.”
I narrowed my eyes slightly, waiting.
Enzo didn’t look at me, but his next words sent a slow, simmering anticipation curling through my chest.
“Alessandra’s looking for you.”
The moment I stepped into the estate, I felt it—her presence.
I hadn’t seen her yet, hadn’t even heard her voice, but I knew she was here. The air felt different, thick with something I couldn’t quite name but recognized all the same.
My steps were slow, measured, but my pulse was anything but steady. I should have been focused on the war I was waging, on the threats I was eliminating one by one.
But instead, I found myself wondering—why now?
Enzo didn’t follow me inside. He knew better. This wasn’t his place to step in. Whatever conversation was about to unfold, it was between me and my little sister.
I rounded the corner into the sitting room, and there she was.
She stood near the fireplace, arms crossed, a flicker of worry in her expression. Alessandra had never been one to hold back her opinions, but there was something different this time. She wasn’t just here to lecture me—she was here because she was afraid.
For me.
I exhaled slowly, letting the silence stretch between us. If she had come looking for me, she could be the one to break it.
She did.
“You’ve been busy.”
My lips twitched, but the smirk never fully formed. “That’s one way to put it.”
Alessandra tilted her head slightly, studying me. “A war with the Berettis?”
I shrugged. “A reckoning.”
She sighed, and something about the way her shoulders dropped made my fingers twitch.
“Damian…”
I tensed. I knew that tone—soft but firm, edged with worry. She wasn’t here to scold me. She was here because she saw something I didn’t.
I took a step closer, my voice dropping. “Why are you here?”
For a second, I thought she might hesitate.
She didn’t.
Her chin lifted slightly, her gaze locking onto mine with unwavering intensity. “Because I don’t think you see it. You’re walking into something worse than you realize.”
I frowned, patience thinning. “I know exactly what I’m walking into.”
“No,” she said, stepping forward. “You don’t.”
There was something in her tone, something beneath the surface that made my spine stiffen. It wasn’t just concern—it was certainty.
I narrowed my eyes, my voice sharpening. “You think you know more about this war than I do?”
Alessandra held my gaze, unflinching.
“I think you’re willing to lose more than you realize.”
I clenched my jaw, but before I could speak, she continued.
“You have every right to go after them. They crossed a line. But Damian—at what cost?” Her voice dipped, softer now. “You might win this war, but will there be anything left of you when it’s over?”
Her words hit deeper than I wanted to admit.
I looked away, exhaling sharply. “I don’t have a choice.”
“There’s always a choice.”
Her voice was steady, but I heard the emotion behind it. The fear.
I turned back to her, meeting her gaze. “And if I don’t fight? If I walk away?”
Alessandra shook her head. “You wouldn’t be you. But just… promise me you’ll be smart about this. That you won’t let your anger make the choices for you.”
I let her words settle, running a hand through my hair. I hated that she could see through me so easily.
Finally, I nodded once. “I’ll handle it.”
Alessandra studied me for another moment, then sighed, as if she knew I would never fully listen. But she gave a small nod in return.
“Just don’t let this war take more from us than it already has.”
She turned to leave, and I watched her go, knowing she wasn’t wrong.
But knowing it didn’t change what had to be done.