Chapter 15
(POV: Enzo)
The tension in the farmhouse was a living thing, coiled tight and ready to strike. We had been running on borrowed time for too long, and I could feel it slipping through our fingers like grains of sand. Everyone was on edge, but I never expected the knife to come from within.
Carlo's hideout wasn't much-rotting wood, creaking floorboards, and a pervasive dampness that clung to everything. But it was enough for now. The others sat scattered around the room, trying to make sense of Tony's fragmented warnings. Vince stood apart from us, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable.
"Tony said the mole was close to the Romanos," Isabella said, her voice low but urgent. She sat next to Tony, who had fallen into a restless sleep. "He overheard something. We need to figure out who it is before they destroy us."
"Easier said than done," Vince muttered from his corner. "You think the mole is going to announce themselves? They've probably been playing us this whole time."
"Like you've been doing?" I shot back, my frustration spilling over.
Vince's head snapped up, and his eyes met mine. For a moment, I thought he might deny it, might lash out. But then he just smiled-a cold, humorless thing that sent a chill down my spine.
"You think I'm the mole," he said, his tone almost amused. "That's rich."
"Can you blame me?" I countered, stepping closer. "You've been acting suspicious since the start. And now Tony's warning-"
"Tony doesn't know what he's talking about," Vince interrupted, his voice rising. "He's half-dead and delirious. You're all so quick to point fingers, but you don't know anything!"
"Enough!" Isabella's voice cut through the argument, sharp and commanding. She stood, her gaze sweeping over both of us. "This isn't helping. We need to focus on what Tony told us and figure out what the Morettis are planning."
I clenched my fists, forcing myself to step back. She was right-this wasn't the time for infighting. But the doubt lingered, a dark cloud I couldn't shake.
\---
(POV: Isabella)
The room felt like it was suffocating me. Everyone's tempers were frayed, and I could see the cracks forming in our fragile alliance. Tony's warnings replayed in my mind, his voice weak but insistent.
"The mole is close to the Romanos."
I looked at Vince, standing in the shadows like a man with too many secrets. Enzo's suspicion was written all over his face, but I couldn't ignore the small voice in the back of my mind that told me Vince wasn't the only one hiding something.
"Maybe we need to step back," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "We're all exhausted, and jumping to conclusions won't help us."
"I'm not jumping to conclusions," Enzo said, his tone hard. "I'm looking at the facts."
"And the facts are incomplete," Carlo interjected from his spot by the fireplace. His expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes-something that made my stomach twist.
"Why don't you tell us what you know, Carlo?" I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.
He tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I've already told you everything I know. It's not my fault if you're too blind to see what's right in front of you."
The words hung in the air, heavy with implication.
"What does that mean?" Enzo demanded, stepping toward him.
Carlo shrugged, the picture of nonchalance. "It means you should stop looking so far away for your mole. Sometimes the danger is closer than you think."
Before anyone could respond, a loud crash echoed from the back of the house. My heart leapt into my throat as everyone scrambled to their feet.
"What was that?" I whispered, my pulse pounding in my ears.
Enzo was already moving, his gun drawn as he motioned for us to stay back. "Stay here," he ordered, his voice low but firm.
"Like hell I will," Vince said, pulling his own weapon.
"Both of you, stop," I hissed, my nerves fraying. "We don't know what's out there."
But it was too late. Enzo and Vince had already moved toward the source of the noise, leaving me and Carlo behind with Tony.
I glanced at Carlo, unease twisting in my gut. He was too calm, too composed, as if he already knew what was coming.
"Do you hear that?" he asked, his voice almost conversational.
"Hear what?" I replied, my heart racing.
"The sound of betrayal," he said, his smile widening.
\---
(POV: Enzo)
The hallway was dark, every creak of the floorboards setting my nerves on edge. Vince was close behind me, his footsteps quiet but deliberate.
"What's your play here?" I whispered, my grip tightening on my gun.
"My play?" he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You think I planned this?"
"I think you're hiding something," I said bluntly.
Before he could respond, a shadow moved at the end of the hall. My finger tightened on the trigger, but before I could react, the figure stepped into the light.
It was one of the Moretti soldiers.
The realization hit me like a punch to the gut, but what happened next stole the breath from my lungs. Vince didn't hesitate-he raised his gun and fired.
The soldier dropped, but the sound of the gunshot echoed through the house, a beacon for anyone nearby.
"Are you insane?" I hissed, grabbing Vince by the arm.
"He was going to kill us," he shot back, shaking me off.
The argument was cut short by the sound of footsteps-several of them-approaching fast.
"We need to move," Vince said, his voice tight.
But before we could, another figure appeared.
This time, it was Carlo.
"You really shouldn't have done that," he said, his tone casual but laced with menace.
"What are you talking about?" I demanded, my gun still raised.
Carlo stepped closer, his expression darkening. "I told you the danger was closer than you thought. You just didn't want to believe me."
And then he turned the gun on me.
\---
(POV: Isabella)
The sound of a gunshot jolted me to my feet. My heart raced as I turned to Tony, who was struggling to sit up despite his injuries.
"Stay here," I said, grabbing the nearest weapon and running toward the commotion.
The hallway was chaos. Vince was on the floor, blood pooling beneath him, and Enzo was standing over him, his face a mask of rage and betrayal.
"What happened?" I demanded, my voice shaking.
"Carlo," Enzo said through gritted teeth. "He was the mole."
The weight of his words hit me like a freight train. But before I could process it, the sound of more footsteps echoed through the house.
We weren't alone.
"Isabella, get back!" Enzo shouted, raising his gun.
But I wasn't fast enough. A shadow moved behind me, and cold steel pressed against my throat.
"Drop it," a voice growled in my ear.
Enzo froze, his eyes locking with mine. I saw the anguish there, the split-second decision he had to make.
And then everything went black.