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Alessandro
I wake up to the sweet scent of her hair, my nose buried in the soft strands of her blonde locks. The first light of day is barely making its way through the windows, and I can hear the faint hum of the city outside. But then my phone’s screen lights up with an incoming call, and I decide to grab it before she stirs. She looks so peaceful, her eyes fluttering in her sleep. Rachel is a complicated woman, and part of me wishes I could stay far away from her, but something keeps drawing me in.
I gently shift her hair to the side, revealing the marks from my lips that trail down her back and neck. A satisfied smile plays on my lips, and I can’t help but marvel at the allure of this woman.
The low buzzing of my phone jolts me from my thoughts again, reminding me why I’m awake at this ungodly hour. I slide out of bed with care, ensuring I don’t wake her, and walk over to where I’ve left my clothes. I answer the call, sliding the phone to my ear and trying to keep my voice steady. “Giulio,è presto,” I mutter in Italian, my voice hoarse with sleep “What’s going on?”
“I think we’ve figured out the pattern,” Giulio says in a hurried tone.
“What?” I ask, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep.
“Last night, Pietro was on the phone with Moreno, and they believe they’ve cracked the serial killer’s pattern,” he explains. The words hit me like a jolt of electricity. A lead, at last.
“Tell me everything,” I demand, urgency coursing through my veins.
“We’re still working out the details,” Giulio replies, “but Moreno has been asking for a meeting. That’s why we need you here.”
“I’ll be right there.”
“Okay,ciao,” Giulio says, and we hang up.
My phone call must’ve stirred Rachel, because she begins to stir in bed. I immediately rise and walk over to her. “I have to go,” I say, gently pushing her tousled hair back.
“Okay,” she mumbles, still half-asleep.
“I’ll call you later,” I promise, but she’s already drifting back into slumber. I kiss her shoulder, dress quietly, and slip out of her apartment. The first real lead in this case has emerged, and I’m determined to get to the bottom of it.
* * *
I pull up to my house, and an air of unease hangs heavy. It’s as if an invisible cloud of tension has settled over the place, casting a pall on everything. My men look busier than usual. They’re not just going about their regular business; they’re talking in hushed tones, their voices tinged with a touch of anxiety. Their guns are all on display, some of them even carrying them in their hands.
There’s a subtle shift in their demeanor, only noticeable to someone who knows them as well as I do.
As I walk through the halls, one of my most trusted men, Sal, approaches me, his expression a mix of apprehension and respect. “Boss, do we need to restock ammunition and make any other preparations?” he inquires.
I sense the unease in his voice and the way he avoids making direct eye contact. It’s clear they’ve been affected by something.
I nod, maintaining my composure, and reply, “Yes, go ahead. Make sure we’re well-prepared for whatever comes our way.”
He nods and scurries off, his swift movements reflecting the urgency of the situation.
“Is this about Luca?” I ask myself.
It’s as if an invisible cloud of tension has settled over the place, casting a pall on everything. I spot Giulio, and he’s wearing the expression of a man burdened by troubling news.
This is the last thing I need.
“We need to talk,” Giulio says, his voice carrying a gravity that’s impossible to ignore. I follow him to my office, where Pietro is already waiting.
“What’s happening? Everyone looks so on edge,” I inquire, the growing unease reflected in my voice.
Giulio runs a hand over his jaw, his thoughts gathering like storm clouds before he begins, “Right after our call, I was in touch with Irina.” The Russians have made a move, and the pit of my stomach tightens as I take a seat.
“They’re trying to disrupt our routes. Word has it, they’ve spread the news that someone’s targeting the Cosa Nostra, and we’re incapable of defending ourselves,” Pietro informs me. “The other families are alert. They’re turning to us for answers, and time is slipping through our fingers.”
I run my hand through my hair, bewildered by how the Russians managed to piece it all together. “Call my men for a meeting, Giulio. If I have to reassure anyone, it makes sense to start with our own family.”
The urgency of the situation starts to weigh heavily on my shoulders, and I can’t help but reflect on the stark contrast between the two worlds I’m navigating. My connection with Rachel, the woman who’s brought brightness and warmth into my life, seems worlds apart from the cold, ruthless dealings I find myself entangled in. Balancing these two realities has never been more challenging.
