Chapter 21

Enzo Pov

I stood by the window, staring out at the dense forest as if I could will the shadows to reveal their secrets. The moon hung low, casting just enough light to tease my paranoia. Every rustle of the wind through the leaves sent a shiver down my spine. Something wasn't right-I could feel it deep in my gut.

"Tony," I called, not taking my eyes off the treeline. My voice came out sharper than I intended. "You double-checked the perimeter?"

Behind me, I heard him shift in his chair, a lazy scrape of wood against the floor. "Twice. Nothing's out there but the wind, boss."

I turned my head slightly, just enough to catch the edge of his silhouette by the dying fireplace. The way he said it, so dismissive-it rubbed me the wrong way. But I let it go, for now. Tony had been acting off, but then again, who wasn't?

The door creaked open, and Isabella stepped in. The sight of her brought a strange mix of relief and tension. She looked worn, her damp hair clinging to her face, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if she could ward off the chill.

"We need to move," she said, her voice low but insistent. Her eyes darted toward the window I'd been watching. "We've been here too long. It's only a matter of time before-"

"Before what?" Vince cut her off from the corner of the room, where he was sharpening a blade. His tone was biting, his words dripping with mockery. "Before someone sells us out? If they knew where we were, we'd already be dead."

I glanced at Isabella, watching her bite back whatever fiery retort she had. I hated the way Vince needled her. But I hated even more that, lately, he seemed to be right.

The room fell silent, the kind that settled into your bones and made your skin crawl. My gaze drifted to the table in the center of the room, cluttered with maps and notes. Something caught my eye-a sleek black device, small and out of place amidst the mess.

"What's this?" I asked, picking it up.

Vince looked up briefly, then shrugged. "Found it in the storeroom. Thought it was junk."

My blood ran cold as I turned it over in my hand. A tiny blinking red light confirmed my worst fear. "This isn't junk," I said, my voice cutting through the quiet like a knife. "It's a listening device."

The moment the words left my mouth, the room exploded.

Isabella took a step forward, her voice trembling. "A listening device? How long has it been here?"

Vince dropped the knife he'd been sharpening, his expression hardening. "You think I planted it?" He stood, towering over the rest of us, his fists clenched. "That's ridiculous."

I didn't flinch under his glare. "I don't think anything yet. But someone planted it, and you've been the most... mobile."

His eyes narrowed. "So that's it? You're pointing the finger at me because I've been pulling my weight while the rest of you sit around panicking?"

"Enough," Tony interjected from his chair. His voice lacked its usual authority, and when I looked at him, I noticed how pale he'd gotten. He gripped the arms of his chair like they were the only things keeping him upright.

But I wasn't ready to let it go. I took a step toward Vince. "If you're innocent, prove it."

"And how do I do that, genius?" Vince shot back. "You want me to swear on my life? Haven't I already done enough to earn your trust?"

"Trust is earned," I said coldly, "and it's easily broken."

Isabella stepped between us, her hands raised in a placating gesture. "Stop. Both of you." She turned to me, her gaze imploring. "Enzo, this isn't helping. We need to figure out how long that device has been here and who could've planted it."

I bit back my retort, but my mind was racing. If Vince wasn't the mole, then who?

Later that night, the tension still hung thick in the air. Isabella sat at the table with her laptop, the screencasting a faint glow on her face. I stood behind her, watching as she typed furiously, pulling up information on the device.

Vince hovered by the wall, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Tony had retreated to his bunk, claiming exhaustion. But the longer I thought about it, the more suspicious his absence felt.

"Here," Isabella said, pointing at the screen. "This device is military-grade. Only a handful of people could get their hands on something like this."

I leaned closer, scanning the information. "The Morettis," I muttered. "This has to be their doing. And if they planted it, that means someone close to us gave them access."

Vince scoffed. "Still looking at me?"

I ignored him, my mind racing. "This changes everything. If the mole's this close, we're not safe here."

Isabella's fingers hovered over the keyboard. She glanced toward the bunkroom, her expression conflicted. "Enzo," she said softly, "what if it's not Vince?"

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. "What are you saying?"

She hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper. "What if it's Tony?"

"No," I said immediately. "Tony's been with me for years. He'd never-"

"Think about it," she pressed. "He's the only one who hasn't been accounted for during every attack. And he's been acting... different. You've noticed it, too."

I clenched my fists, anger, and disbelief warring inside me. Could she be right?

The door to the bunkroom creaked open, and Tony stepped out. His eyes flicked between us, his expression calm but guarded.

"What's going on?" he asked, his tone steady but edged with suspicion.

Isabella froze, her knuckles white as she gripped the edge of the table. "We were just... talking."

Tony's lips curled into a faint smile, but there was no warmth in it. "Don't let me interrupt."

He walked past us and out the front door, leaving the room in silence.

My gut churned as I watched him go. I turned to Isabella, my voice low. "If you're right... we're in more trouble than I thought."

And then I saw it. Sticking out of Tony's back pocket was a folded piece of paper. My blood ran cold as I recognized the faint outline of the Moretti crest stamped on it.