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The drive home is a maze of contemplation. I’ve never had a moment’s peace to imagine another life, one without the weight of this existence. The love-hate relationship I have with it all is a constant tug-of-war in my soul. And since Pietro reappeared, the realization has set in—I’m next in line after Alessandro. But am I ready? I don’t feel equipped for this life, for this responsibility.
I arrive at the mansion in the evening, the grandeur of the estate almost suffocating. Alessandro, my mentor, my brother in this world, is buried in his office. I knock softly before entering, a formality more than a necessity.
“Buonasera, fratello,” I greet him in Italian.
He acknowledges me with a nod, his gaze shifting from the papers spread on his desk to meet mine.“Hai organizzato l’incontro conSophie?”he asks, straight to the point. Have I arranged the meeting with Sophie?
I nod.“Sì, è domani a mezzogiorno,” I reply, tomorrow at noon.
He leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers in front of him.“Andiamo insieme,” he declares, stating that we’ll go together.
But I sense the weight in his words when he adds, “Solo noi due.” Just the two of us.
I raise an eyebrow, surprised. “Solo noi due?”I repeat, seeking confirmation.
He nods gravely. “Sì, e deve restare tra noi.”Yes, and it has to remain a secret.
I understand. This isn’t about showcasing power or making a show. This is serious, and it’s between him and me.
“But the others—” I start, thinking about gathering our men.
“No,” he interrupts firmly.“Questo è tra noi, Giulio. Solo noi due.”Just us.
This could be dangerous, I want to warn him, but there is something completely lost in his eyes. I am not sure what it is but he is different. Everyone is afraid of being on his wrong side, me included.
“Okay Alessandro,” I say, swallowing all my questions. “We can leave at eleven.”
“Good. You’re dismissed.”
I groan inwardly, the dismissal rubbing me the wrong way. Instead of heading to my room I head to the gun range.
I park my car and can smell of gunpowder already lingering in the air before I even step inside.
As I enter, the sound of shots echoes around me, mixing with the low hum of conversations. I load up a magazine, feeling the cold metal of the firearm in my hand. The weight, the familiarity, it’s oddly calming amidst the chaos swirling in my mind.
With every shot fired, I release a fragment of the tension that has been knotting my muscles. Each bullet hitting the target becomes a release, a momentary reprieve from the burdens I carry.
The rhythm of the firing range becomes my sanctuary. It’s just me and the weapon, a dangerous dance of frustration and control. I channel my inner chaos into each bullet, finding solace in the controlled chaos of the range.
But even amidst the deafening sounds of gunfire, thoughts of tomorrow’s meeting with Sophie refuse to fade. Alessandro’s words linger, their weight pressing down on my shoulders. It’s a battle between what’s expected of me and the doubts that continue to gnaw at my soul.
I fire shot after shot, each one punctuating the air with a sense of determination mixed with uncertainty. The echoes reverberate in the range, but they fail to silence the cacophony of doubts echoing in my mind.
Eventually, as the range quiets down, I realize that while the ammunition may have run out, the storm within me still rages. Tomorrow’s meeting with Sophie looms on the horizon. The wisest thing would be for me to scout the place. Alessandro wouldn’t have to know.
This is just a precaution.
As I pull up to the storage unit, the moon hangs high, casting an eerie glow over the place. It’s practically deserted, except for the lone security guard on duty. I try to sweet-talk my way in, but he’s having none of it. “Sorry, mate, no entry past midnight,” he grumbles, crossing his arms.
I weigh my options for a moment. Confronting him could end badly—word gets back to her, and Sophie will vanish like a ghost. And pissing off Alessandro? Not something I’m eager to do.
With a resigned sigh, I retreat to my car, frustration boiling under the surface. Sometimes, playing it cool is the only play.
“I’m tellin’ ya, the guy was stubborn as a mule,” I mutter into the phone as I lean against the car. Yuri’s voice crackles on the line, his thick accent making every word sound like a coded message.
“Ah, Giulio, you always find the tricky ones. Listen, there might be a workaround. Keep an eye out. Maybe she’ll make an appearance.”
“Yeah, I’ll camp out for a bit, see what she’s up to,” I reply, peering through the darkness at the storage unit’s entrance.
