Chapter 59

The warehouse was a labyrinth of rusted steel beams and stacked crates, the air thick with the scent of oil and decay. Dim lights buzzed weakly overhead, casting broken shadows across the floor. It was the kind of place where deals were made in blood, and no one left without scars.

Enzo stepped forward, his gun cold in his palm, heart pounding with a deadly calm. Beside him, Isabella moved quietly, her knife hidden beneath her jacket, every muscle tense. They had followed the trail here-to the mole-and whatever truth waited on the other side of this confrontation, there was no turning back.

"You sure about this?" Isabella whispered, her breath warm against the cold air.

"I'm sure," Enzo said through clenched teeth. "If Tony's blood is on their hands, I want answers."

A soft creak echoed from the far corner of the warehouse. Enzo's grip on his gun tightened. Someone was here.

A shadow stepped out from behind a row of crates, slow and deliberate. And when the figure came into the light, Enzo's blood ran cold.

He knew that face.

"You?" Isabella's voice cracked with disbelief.

The mole. Someone they had trusted. Someone who had stood beside them through every battle. Yet here they were-betraying everything.

"I didn't want it to come to this," the mole said, voice smooth but empty. Their eyes, once familiar, were now cold as stone.

Enzo's chest burned with fury. "You sold us out."

"You don't understand," the mole snapped. "It's bigger than you, bigger than all of us."

Isabella took a step forward, her anger simmering beneath the surface. "Tony's dead because of you. How much did they pay you to spill his blood?"

The mole's lips curled into a bitter smile. "This was never about money. It's about survival. You still don't see it, do you?"

A chill slid down Enzo's spine. Something was wrong-very wrong.

And then, in the silence, a faint click echoed through the air.

Laser sights.

Red dots danced across their chests. One. Two. Three. Moretti was watching.

"You walked right into it," the mole murmured. "And now, you're not walking out."

The world exploded into chaos.

The first gunshot cracked through the still air, shattering the fragile calm. Enzo shoved Isabella behind a stack of crates, his back pressed hard against the cold wood as bullets tore through the space where they'd been standing.

"Move!" he barked, firing three shots toward the rafters where one of Moretti's snipers lurked.

Isabella's pulse thundered in her ears as she darted along the edge of the room, her knife gleaming in her grip. They had to get out-fast.

A hail of bullets rained down, splintering wood and sending sparks flying. Enzo weaved through the maze of containers, his focus locked on one thing: survival.

"Where is the mole?" Isabella shouted, ducking low to avoid a shot that missed her head by inches.

"Gone," Enzo growled, scanning the room. Vanished in the chaos. Just like a ghost.

The warehouse felt like a cage-every exit seemed to lead them deeper into a trap. Every breath brought more danger, more uncertainty.

Enzo's boot scraped against the floor as he skidded to a stop near an old service door. His fingers curled around the handle-locked.

Behind them, the sharp crack of approaching footsteps echoed through the vast, darkened space. Someone was coming.

And then, the lights flickered.

A figure stepped out from the shadows, calm and composed. Dressed in black, a silver Moretti insignia glinting beneath their jacket.

A hitman.

Gun raised. Face unreadable.

He blocked their only way out.

"No sudden moves," the assassin said softly, the click of his gun echoing like a death sentence.

Isabella tightened her grip on her knife, ready to fight. But Enzo's voice was colder. Harder. "If you're going to kill us, you should've pulled the trigger by now."

The hitman tilted his head. "Who said I wanted you dead?"

A heartbeat passed in silence.

And then-Enzo moved.

Fast. Violent. A single shot rang out as he lunged forward, taking the hitman down in one brutal motion. The man crumpled to the floor.

Breathing hard, Enzo grabbed Isabella's hand, pulling her toward the now-clear exit.

"Let's go," he growled.

The underground club throbbed with neon lights and heavy bass, the smell of smoke thick in the air. It was the kind of place where morality blurred, and every soul had a price.

Enzo and Isabella slipped through the crowd, their faces shadowed under low hoods. They weren't here for drinks or entertainment-they were here for answers.

At the far end of the room, a man lounged in a private booth, two bodyguards flanking him. He wore a suit too sharp for this world, gold rings glinting on every finger.

Lorenzo De Luca. A rival crime lord-and their only lead.

"This is a bad idea," Isabella muttered as they approached.

"It's our only play," Enzo countered, his voice low.

Lorenzo spotted them, his lips curling into a slow, knowing smile. "Enzo Romano," he drawled. "And the lovely Isabella. What brings you to my humble establishment?"

Enzo dropped into the seat across from him, fingers twitching with impatience. "We need information."

Lorenzo laughed, tapping ash from his cigar. "Information? That's an expensive thing these days."

"Cut the theatrics," Isabella snapped, her patience running thin. "We know you've got eyes everywhere. Where did the mole go?"

The crime lord leaned back, appraising them with cool detachment. "You two are either very brave or very stupid. Probably both."

Enzo's patience thinned to a knife's edge. "Answer the question."

Lorenzo chuckled softly as if savoring their desperation. "Fine," he said, his smile fading. "Your mole? Last I heard, they were heading to an old factory on the west side. But you won't like what you find there."

Isabella narrowed her eyes. "Why?"

A shadow passed over Lorenzo's face. "Because the next move isn't yours. It never was."

Enzo stood, muscles tense. "We'll handle it."

As they turned to leave, Lorenzo's voice drifted after them, smooth as poison. "Good luck. You'll need it."

Outside, the cold night air hit them like a slap. Isabella grabbed Enzo's arm, her voice fierce.

"We have to go."

Enzo's gaze burned with determination. "Let's finish this."

And together, they disappeared into the dark.