Chapter 17
The port was bathed in darkness, the faint orange glow of distant streetlights casting long, flickering shadows across the shipping yard. Crates were stacked in uneven towers, and the low hum of machinery buzzed from far-off warehouses. Marco stood at the edge of the dock, his men scattered in silent formation behind him, waiting for his signal.
The air was heavy, thick with the anticipation of the ambush. Arianna had assured him this was it—the De Lucas’ shipment of weapons. A strike here would deal a devastating blow to their operations, a victory Marco desperately needed to reassert his control.
“Movement,” one of his men whispered, pointing to a truck idling near the far end of the yard. The driver’s silhouette was faint behind the windshield.
Marco lifted a hand, signaling his men to close in. Footsteps moved like a faint drumbeat as they crept through the shadows, guns ready. Marco’s heartbeat matched the rhythm. This has to be real. He told himself that again and again. Arianna had been so sure.
Luca moved up beside him, crouching low. “Something feels off.”
Marco shot him a look, irritation flaring. “We’re committed now.”
Luca didn’t argue, but his unease was clear. Marco ignored it, his focus on the truck and the handful of figures emerging from the dark.
“Now,” Marco muttered, signaling his men forward. They rushed the truck, the sound of boots pounding against gravel breaking the silence. Shouts rang out as Marco’s men surrounded the vehicle, pulling open doors, rifles aimed and ready.
But the moment stretched too long. No gunfire. No fight. Only silence.
One of Marco’s men stepped back, bewildered. “It’s empty.”
Marco froze, his chest tightening as he stepped forward. He peered into the back of the truck, his heart dropping at the sight of empty crates. A decoy.
“Marco!” Luca’s shout rang out from behind him.
Gunfire exploded, shattering the quiet. Figures emerged from the shadows, De Luca gunmen hidden in the dark, their ambush now in motion. The cracks of bullets echoed off the metal containers, and chaos erupted.
“Cover! Now!” Marco shouted, grabbing his gun as his men scattered, firing back toward the hidden enemies.
The air filled with smoke and the smell of gunpowder as Marco ducked behind a crate, firing blindly toward the gunmen. His men were falling, the trap having closed around them. Arianna, his mind hissed. She sent us here.
Luca dropped beside him, breathing hard. “We’re outnumbered! We need to pull back!”
“Hold the line!” Marco growled, furious, his face taut with anger. He fired another round, his eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of the enemy leader. But the De Luca men were ghosts—silent, relentless, disappearing as quickly as they appeared.
Minutes felt like hours before the gunfire began to fade. Marco’s forces, battered and bloodied, began their retreat. Luca dragged a wounded soldier to cover, shouting orders as Marco fired a final shot before signaling the fallback.
The De Lucas didn’t pursue. They didn’t need to. They had already won.
As Marco climbed into the back of a truck with the remnants of his men, his mind spun. Arianna had promised him a win, but he’d been sent into a slaughter. His men were dead. His pride was shattered. And for the first time, doubt took hold—sharp and unshakable.
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Carmen sat at the small desk in Vincent’s library, a thick notebook open in front of her, papers spread like puzzle pieces across the surface. The flicker of the lamp cast a warm light on her tired face as she scribbled notes, pausing occasionally to flip through documents Vincent had dug up for her.
“Arianna,” she muttered under her breath as she studied the text in front of her. A report on a family in Naples—the Bernardis—one of the oldest, most respected mafia clans in the region. Fifteen years ago, they had been thriving. Until they weren’t.
Carmen scanned the next page: betrayal, a trusted ally turning on them, their operations dismantled from the inside. It had all started with a woman—Arianna Ricci.
Carmen sat back, her heart racing as she made the connection. Another document, another betrayal. The De Lucas had been the next to suffer. Arianna had manipulated Enzo and Sofia’s father, leaking false information to rival families while siphoning off money into offshore accounts. By the time the De Lucas realized, half of their empire had crumbled.
“She’s done this before,” Carmen whispered to herself, her hands shaking slightly as she gathered the papers. Arianna was a master at this game—creating division, worming her way into power, and then pulling the strings until everything fell apart.
And now she was doing it again.
“Find something?” Vincent’s voice cut through the silence as he entered the room, a glass of whiskey in his hand.
Carmen looked up, her expression grim. “Arianna. She’s done this to other families before—destroyed them from the inside. It’s the same pattern, the same lies.”
Vincent leaned against the edge of the desk, watching her intently. “Does Marco know?”
“No,” Carmen replied, shaking her head. “He won’t see it. Not yet. But I can’t let her finish what she started.”
“And what are you going to do with this?” Vincent asked, gesturing to the papers.
Carmen hesitated, her hand drifting to her stomach. “I don’t know yet,” she admitted quietly. “If I take this to Marco, she’ll twist it against me. But if I don’t…”
Vincent took a sip of his drink, his eyes sharp. “You’re running out of time to decide.”
“I know,” Carmen murmured. “But this has to end.”
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Luca stood in the corner of the estate’s hallway, watching Arianna as she moved through the dining room, a glass of wine in her hand and a smile on her lips. Her laughter rang out, light and elegant, as though the night’s bloodshed hadn’t happened at all.
Luca’s stomach churned. He had seen the aftermath of the ambush—Marco’s men dead, their bodies loaded onto trucks, the rage on Marco’s face as they returned. Yet Arianna remained untouched, floating above the destruction she’d caused like it didn’t matter.
“Enjoying the show?”
Luca turned to find Arianna standing beside him, having closed the distance in silence. Her smile was small, but her eyes gleamed with something dangerous.
“Long day,” Luca said evenly, keeping his tone casual.
“For all of us,” she replied, swirling the wine in her glass. “But we’ll recover. Marco will recover. He always does.”
Luca forced a small smirk. “You seem very sure of yourself.”
Arianna’s smile widened just a fraction. “I have to be. Marco needs someone who can see the bigger picture. Someone who can guide him.”
“Someone like you?” Luca asked, his voice laced with something she couldn’t quite place.
“Exactly.” Arianna tilted her head, studying him. “You’re loyal, Luca. That’s what I like about you. But loyalty can be… flexible, can’t it?”
“What are you saying?”
Arianna stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Marco’s not thinking clearly right now. And when this war ends, there will be winners and losers. Choose the winning side, Luca, and I can make sure you’re rewarded.”
Luca met her gaze, his expression unreadable. “I’ll think about it.”
“Good.” Arianna turned away, gliding back into the dining room without another word.
Luca watched her go, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. He turned, walking briskly down the hall, his mind racing. He couldn’t keep this to himself any longer. Arianna was dangerous, and her plans were pulling Marco further into chaos.
Luca reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. He dialed Carmen without hesitation.
When she answered, he didn’t waste time. “You were right,” he said quietly. “Arianna’s manipulating him. She’s trying to bring me in on it now.”
Carmen’s voice on the other end was calm but firm. “We don’t have much time, Luca. This ends soon.”
“I’ll handle it,” Luca replied, his voice low. “But you need to be ready.”
“I’m ready,” Carmen said.
Luca ended the call and slipped his phone back into his pocket. The weight of the truth sat heavy on his shoulders, but his decision had been made. Arianna’s game was about to come crashing down.
