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Each step I take feels like a gamble, a gamble I’m willing to take despite the palpable sense of foreboding.
If Alessandro is playing me, I am going to be so fucking pissed.
As I skulk around, my footsteps barely making a sound on the dusty floor, I hear the unmistakable rumble of an approaching car. My heart leaps into my throat. Is this it? Is this the moment I’ve been waiting for? Or will I meet Alessandro instead? And what about Dante?
I scramble to find a hiding spot, pressing my back against a grimy wall. My breath is shallow and ragged as the black SUV pulls into the warehouse. The engine cuts off, and the silence that follows is deafening.
A figure emerges from the car, and I watch in trepidation. He’s an older Italian man, his presence exuding a kind of authority that gives me chills. Dark sunglasses shield his eyes. The man walks with a slight limp, leaning on a black cane with a silver handle.
The air rushes out of me when he turns and I see his frame.
Nicola fucking Moreno.
He takes a phone out of his pocket, muttering agitatedly in Italian. I strain to catch what he’s saying, but the words are like whispers in the wind. His brow furrows, and I can sense his frustration even from my concealed vantage point.
Time seems to stretch on for an eternity as I crouch there, trying to piece together the puzzle. What’s his game? Why is he here alone, without any visible security? It can’t be this easy, right? I’ve been trained to expect the worst.
After what feels like an eternity, he ends the call and heads back to the SUV. My heart’s beating so loud I’m sure he can hear it. He says something to his driver, and the guy passes him a sleek, black gun through the car window. It’s all happening so fast.
The car drives off, leaving me in a whirlwind of confusion. What the hell just happened? It can’t be that simple. He’s alone, unguarded, and with a gun now. Is this some sort of trap? A test of my resolve? Or has fate thrown me a curveball?
I can’t stay hidden forever, and my mind races. If I don’t act now, I may never get another chance. I inch closer, keeping to the shadows, my gun still ready.
The older Italian man paces around, his face etched with a mix of determination and tension. I can see the lines of worry etched into his weathered features. He mutters to himself in Italian, as if having an intense argument in his head.
A thought crosses my mind - maybe I can use this moment to my advantage. I need to find out what’s really going on.
I decide to make my move. I step out of the shadows, my gun still trained on him, and I call out, “Hey! You there!”
He turns, his sunglasses hiding his eyes, but I can feel his gaze piercing through me.
I am trying to brace myself, trying not to show the fear coursing through me show. “You’re Moreno.”
He lifts the sunglasses and looks me up and down, “You must be the informant Ricci told me about. Put your gun down. I just want the information.” he demands, his voice laced with authority.
An anonymous informant? I see.
I take another deep breath as I look at the man. He is bigger than me, taller. My mother never stood a chance.
I am looking straight at the man who fathered me, and I have never felt angrier.
“I would rather not, actually.”
He does not hesitate. Instead, he lifts his own gun, “Well, in that case.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I am so screwed. Blood is roaring in my ears.
“What did Ricci tell you?” I shout. I feel at a disadvantage. He seems like he was expecting to see me but I am not really sure why he would think Alessandro sent me.
“I sent the driver away, okay? You can see that I am alone here. Gimme the information I need and then I will have the money sent to you.”
“How do I know you don’t have snipers here? How do I know you are not just trying to get me to talk before you get rid of me?
He mutters some curses in Italian. “Listen, there is no one here. You know how this works. Give me the information and we can call it a day. I don’t have all afternoon. What do you have on the mafia serial killer?”
So, he is actually here to hear more about the assassin, but for some reason, Ricci failed to mention anything about me. He failed to even mention my gender. Did he set this up for me? Or is this still a part of some elaborate scheming?
