Chapter 77

The air in the abandoned warehouse was thick with dust and stale air, the kind that clung to your skin and made you feel like you'd walked into a tomb. It was eerily quiet, the only sound being the soft echo of their footsteps as they made their way deeper into the cavernous building. Enzo's hand was tense around his gun, his mind alert to every creak and groan the place made. It had been an exhausting few days, and his gut told him they weren't out of the woods yet.

When they finally reached the center of the warehouse, Enzo's eyes scanned the shadows. A figure was waiting for them, standing against a wall like a ghost in the darkness. It took a second for Enzo to recognize him, but when he did, his breath caught in his throat.

Vince.

Vince stood there, his arms folded across his chest, eyes hidden behind the darkness. But there was something about him that felt... off. His posture was stiff, his face unreadable, like he wasn't really there.

"Vince?" Enzo's voice broke the silence, but there was no warmth in it. Only suspicion.

Vince didn't respond right away. His gaze flickered toward Enzo, and for a brief second, Enzo saw a flash of something in his eyes-a brief flicker of something... dangerous? But just as quickly, it was gone. Vince straightened up, stepping forward with deliberate slowness.

"We need to talk," Vince said, his voice hollow, almost mechanical.

Enzo's heart thudded. Something wasn't right. He studied Vince for a moment, feeling that familiar sense of betrayal gnawing at his gut. His instincts were screaming at him. There was no way this was the same Vince they had trusted for so long. Not anymore.

"What happened to you?" Enzo asked, his voice low, his gun still in his grip.

Vince's lips barely twitched, but he didn't speak at first. He just stared at Enzo with an icy calm, his eyes devoid of emotion.

"I did what I had to do," Vince finally muttered, his tone flat, the words hanging in the air like a dead weight.

Enzo's eyes narrowed, not satisfied. "What are you talking about, Vince? We've been through hell trying to stay one step ahead. And now you show up like this?"

Vince's eyes shifted to Isabella, then back to Enzo. "It's not just about survival anymore. It's about who gets to control the game."

Enzo's grip tightened on his gun, his finger hovering over the trigger. He could feel the tension building between them, thick and dangerous like something was about to snap.

"What's going on here, Vince?" Enzo demanded again. "What aren't you telling me?"

Without warning, Vince slid a gun across the table towards Enzo, the cold metal glinting under the dim light. "If you don't trust me, shoot me now."

The words hit Enzo like a punch to the gut. He didn't even have to think about it-he knew the choice was no longer in his hands. Vince wasn't the ally he thought he was. Not anymore.

The warehouse felt smaller now, the walls closing in around them, but Enzo couldn't look away from Vince's face. He didn't want to believe what he was seeing. Couldn't believe it. But the icy detachment in Vince's gaze said everything.

Isabella's hand shot out to stop Enzo, her fingers curling around his wrist as he raised the gun, his eyes still locked on Vince. "Enzo, no," she hissed under her breath, urgency in her voice. "Don't do it. Not yet."

Enzo's jaw clenched, the tension in his body radiating like a furnace. But he didn't lower the gun. Not yet. "You expect me to just trust you now?" he spat, his voice low but shaking with anger. "After everything we've been through?"

Vince didn't flinch. He just stared at them both, as though he had been expecting this reaction all along.

"It's not about trust anymore," Vince said, his tone colder than ice. "It's about survival. You think you've been running from the enemy? You have no idea who the real threat is."

Isabella stepped forward, her brow furrowing in confusion. "What are you talking about, Vince?"

Vince looked at her, his eyes softening for a moment. But the softness didn't last. "Someone inside our circle has been feeding information to the enemy for months now. Everything we've done, every move we've made-they've known it all before we even did it."

The words hit like a punch to the gut. Enzo staggered back, his mind racing, trying to process what he had just heard.

"No," Enzo murmured, shaking his head. "That can't be true."

Vince gave a slight nod, his eyes narrowing. "It is. The mole's been close. Too close."

Isabella's voice trembled with disbelief. "But who? Who could it be?"

Vince's gaze flickered to Isabella, and for the briefest of moments, his eyes softened again. "You're the only one I never suspected. But" He paused, his gaze moving to Enzo. "I can't say the same for him."

The room went dead silent. The weight of Vince's words hung in the air like an anvil, pressing down on their chests.

Enzo's heart slammed against his ribs, his breath coming in shallow gasps. "What?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Vince didn't flinch, didn't hesitate. "I said what I said. It's always been him."

Isabella's grip tightened around Enzo's arm, her breath hitching in her throat. "No. No, that's not possible. You're lying."

Enzo's mind was spinning. He felt like the world was collapsing around him, each word Vince spoke carving a deeper hole in his trust.

He took a step back, shaking his head again. "You think I've been the mole?" His voice was raw now, tinged with a mix of anger and disbelief.

Vince didn't answer. He didn't have to. The silence between them was deafening.

Enzo could feel the air in the warehouse thickening, tension stretching like a taut wire between him and Vince. His fingers curled into fists, his pulse pounding in his ears as the accusation hung in the air. His entire world had just shifted on its axis, and he wasn't sure where he stood anymore.

Isabella stepped between them, her hands up in a calming gesture. "Enough," she said, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife. "This isn't helping anyone."

But Enzo couldn't help it. His anger boiled over. "You can't just accuse me of this, Vince. You know me. You know I would never-"

"I don't know anything anymore!" Vince shouted, his voice rising, his calm demeanor cracking for the first time. "I thought I knew who I could trust. But look where we are now. Everything's falling apart."

Isabella turned to Vince, her voice sharp as a whip. "And you think blaming Enzo is going to fix it?"

Vince's eyes flashed with something that looked like regret, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. He shook his head. "You're not the problem, Isabella. You've always had my back." He hesitated, then added, "But I can't say the same for him."

Enzo stepped forward, his voice low but filled with venom. "You think I'm the one who's been betraying us?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Fine. I'm done."

Isabella's eyes flicked between the two men, panic creeping into her voice. "Enzo-"

But it was too late. The damage had already been done. The trust was shattered.

Enzo turned his back on Vince, stepping toward the door. "I'll find out who the mole is. But I'm doing it on my own."

Before he could make it out, Isabella's hand shot out, grabbing his arm. "Wait."

She pulled something from her pocket, her fingers trembling as she unfolded a small note.

Enzo froze. His heart sank as he read the words written in hurried scrawl: "He's not who you think he is."

The note slipped from her fingers, fluttering to the ground as the three of them stood in stunned silence.

And for the first time, Enzo wasn't sure who he could trust.