Without another explanation, he hurried upstairs.Traps?What the hell did he mean by traps? I stood there for a full minute, not moving because I didn’t want to set off anything. Something to the right of me clicked.
I won’t lie, it startled me, making me tense up. Something above me hummed, then went silent. I looked up, wondering what the hell Marcel had going on in this house of doom.
“All clear,” he called from upstairs.
I released the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. I stood there for another minute before curiosity got the better of me. Leaving behind the flowers on the center table, I slowly walked through the house.
The first room I wandered into was his security room. Monitors covered nearly an entire wall. Every camera angle around the property was displayed on the screens. The front gate. The driveway. The backyard. The sides of the house. Every entrance. Every window.
Nothing escaped Marcel's attention. He was making sure no one got close to him without him knowing first. I couldn’t say I blamed him. After what he’d experienced, this was actually a normal response.
Even so, I hated that he had to live this way. I moved to the upstairs area. The next room I found was lined with weapons.Handguns. Shotguns. Rifles. Knives.More ammunition than me, Cas, and Raz had in our weapons rooms combined.
Leaving the room, I continued down the hallway. The next room was a gym. I smiled as I stared at a water bottle sitting on the corner table. The writing on it read:Put Down The Soda and Pick Up A Water Bottle.
So, he was one of those health nuts. I moved around the space, noting the free weights, benches, multiple workout machines, and punching bags. The space was larger than most commercial fitness centers.
No wonder he'd put on muscle. Working out wasn't a hobby anymore. It was his life. As I stepped back into the hallway, something else caught my attention. The locks on the doors. Every door had more than one.
Some had three. Some had up to five. And they weren’t simple locks. Heavy-duty deadbolts reinforced nearly every entrance I passed. All the windows had inside shutters, keeping the sunlight out.
The entire house had become a fortress. A beautiful prison Marcel had built for himself. And he lived here alone. No guards. No staff. No one. Just him, his thoughts, and his fears. He no longer trusted anyone enough to live under the same roof with them.
He felt he was safer alone. But this wasn't living. This was surviving. Whoever had provided the intel that led the Bianchis to Marcel had stolen far more than his freedom. They'd stolen his peace. They'd also stolen the simple things.
The things most people never thought twice about. Like his ability to answer his own front door by himself. His ability to work out or shower without setting booby traps because he feared someone might enter his home while he was distracted.
They’d stolen his ability to feel safe in his own home. And they’d cut him off from his family and friends, forcing him into isolation. I blinked, realizing that tears were blurring my vision.Fuck!
I wiped the tears away. This would not be how my cousin lived his life forever. I would destroy his enemies so he could finally have peace of mind. So he could finally live again. He deserved that.
Hewouldhave that.
I looked around one last time before making my way back down to the living room. Taking a seat on the couch, my gaze landedon the peace lilies on his center table. I hoped they brought him a little peace as I sought those who’d stolen his.
I waited quietly for Marcel to return, my mind filled with vengeance and the desire to destroy whoever had taken on the Ettori intel job. A few minutes later, Marcel came downstairs wearing gray jogging pants and a plain white t-shirt.
His black hair was still damp from the shower. He had it pulled back into a short ponytail. Walking into the living room, he dropped onto the couch across from me.
"Sorry about that," he apologized. “If I’d known you were coming, I would’ve worked out later.”
"No problem. I should’ve called before I came."
For a few seconds, neither of us spoke. Marcel glanced over at the peace lilies on the center table.
"I still can't believe you bought me flowers, dude. If my mom finds out, she’ll start filling this place with those things."
"Even if she doesn’t fill this place with them, I will. They really do make this place look better," I told him.
“They remind me of home... I mean... of my mom’s place,” Marcel muttered. “She loves fresh flowers. She keeps them throughout the house, changing them out for new ones each week.”
As he talked, I could see the loneliness in his eyes. He missed home, his mom’s place. He missed his old life. Missed being the carefree college student who dreamed of owning his own business and not depending on the Cattaneo name to make it through life.
But he couldn’t get back to those goals because he wasn’t ready to emerge from his fortress yet. However, according to Cas, Marcel made good money from live streaming while playing video games.
He also did freelance web development for small businesses. Even in isolation, he was determined to make his own way.
"So..." He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "How’s the Italy branch of the casino doing?"
