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He nods and understands the seriousness of my statement.
* * *
I sit across from Pietro in my dimly lit room. His eyes probe mine, searching for any signs of progress in this mess.
“Novità sull’assassino?”Pietro asks, his voice low and serious. Giulio, always the one with the most expressive face, struggles to keep his emotions in check. Any news about the assassin?
“Sotto controllo,” I respond firmly, meeting Pietro’s gaze head-on.“La situazione è sotto controllo.”All under control.
He raises an eyebrow, skepticism etched in his expression. “The other bosses are getting impatient, you know.”
I lean forward, my tone unwavering. “I’ll share more information once I’ve got something substantial. Can’t throw breadcrumbs to the birds.”
Giulio shifts in his seat, tension lining his features. “Capo, non possiamo tenerli in attesa all’infinito. Vogliono risposte.”Boss, we can’t keep them waiting for much longer. They want answers.
“Pazienza, Giulio,” I say in Italian, offering him a reassuring nod before returning my attention to Pietro. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. Trust me. I will handle this.”
He has no idea how involved I actually am.
Pietro nods, his expression still wary.“Va bene, ma tienimi aggiornato.”Alright, but keep me updated.
As Pietro leaves, Giulio leans in, concern etched on his face. “Boss, they’re getting restless. They want action.”
“We’ll give them what they need, Giulio,” I assure him, my voice firm. “But rushing without solid information will only make things worse. We need to move wisely.”
Giulio nods, his eyes reflecting a mix of determination and worry. “I’ll keep an eye out, Boss. We’ll find this guy.”
I offer him a grateful nod before he leaves the room.
He thinks he is being careful but I know all about his calls with Yuri. I know it is harmless. I know he is just spooked by all the murders.
He has no clue that it is Rachel they should all be hunting down.
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
Rachel
I lie in bed. I toss and turn in the sheets that still carry the scent of Alessandro. It feels surreal. Sometimes knowledge is not power, it is pain. I try to lose myself in a mind-numbing video game. But just as I’m starting to find some solace, my phone rings, jolting me from my digital world.
Glancing at the screen, I notice the time: eleven a.m. I hesitate for a moment, then answer Sophie’s call. “Hey,” I say, my voice a mix of curiosity and weariness.
Sophie’s voice carries a hint of hesitation as she responds, “Hey. What’s up?” I sense that there’s more to this call than just a casual check-in.
I prop myself up in bed, my interest piqued. “What is it?”
“It’s about Moreno.”
My heart skips a beat at the mention of that name. “Tell me,” I manage to say, bracing myself for what’s to come.
I can hear Sophie on the other end of the line, making the necessary connections. The silence that hangs in the air is thick with tension.
“I have a lead from one of my informants. It’s the location of Nicola Moreno. I know exactly where he will be today at two p.m.”
“Where?”
“I’m texting you the address. It is an old abandoned warehouse.”
“It’s too easy. There’s no way that this is real. Who’s your guy? Can we trust him?”
