Chapter 62
The dimly lit interrogation room smelled like sweat, old coffee, and very bad decisions. The single overhead bulb flickered like it, too, was losing patience. A thin trail of blood smeared the floor-a souvenir from the earlier fight.
In the center of the room, tied to a metal chair, sat the mole.
They looked way too comfortable for someone in their position, despite the bruises and the cut trickling blood down their temple. They even dared to smile, like they were on a vacation, enjoying the free air conditioning.
Across the table, Enzo was having none of it. His grip on the edge of the table was so tight that his knuckles turned white. He wanted to flip the damn thing, throw a chair, maybe even punch the mole's smug face into next week.
Beside him, Isabella crossed her arms, looking just as fed up. "You're out of time," Enzo said, voice low and dangerous. "Talk."
The mole smirked and leaned back slightly. "Funny. That's what I was going to tell you."
Enzo inhaled sharply through his nose like a bull ready to charge. This clown was playing games while his best friend, Tony, was still in the hospital, fighting for his life. His patience was thinner than a cheap napkin at this point.
But Isabella was faster.
BAM!
She slammed a thick folder onto the table so hard that the mole actually flinched. Papers spilled out, creating a dramatic CSI: Mafia Edition moment.
"Care to explain this?" Isabella asked, arching a perfect eyebrow.
The mole barely glanced at the documents-bank records, photos, secret transactions-before chuckling.
"Wow," they said, amused. "You guys did homework."
"Yeah," Isabella shot back. "And you failed the test."
Enzo narrowed his eyes. "We know Moretti was behind everything. The betrayals, the leaks, the whole damn mess."
The mole tilted their head, still looking unbothered. Then, they smirked. "You still don't see it, do you?"
Enzo's temper officially reached volcano status. "See what?!"
The mole's smirk widened as if they were enjoying some insider joke. Then, with a slow, knowing chuckle, they whispered:
"The real enemy."
Knock-knock-knock.
The door burst open, and an agent rushed in, looking like they had just seen a ghost.
"You need to see this."
Enzo and Isabella shared a look.
Oh, this was about to get so much worse.
The Moretti penthouse was ridiculously fancy. The kind of place where rich criminals sat around drinking overpriced whiskey while discussing who to betray next.
Floor-to-ceiling glass windows showcased the entire city-a perfect view for a king watching over his empire.
And at the center of this luxurious villain lair?
Salvatore Moretti.
The man himself was too relaxed, swirling a glass of whiskey in one hand like he had all the time in the world. Dressed in a sleek suit, he looked like the kind of guy who never got caught in the rain, never had to wait in line, and definitely never paid full price for anything.
Across from him, Enzo and Isabella stood like two storm clouds ready to explode.
"You have some explaining to do," Enzo said, voice colder than a freezer.
Moretti took a very slow, very deliberate sip of his whiskey. Then, he sighed like he was honestly bored with the whole thing. "Do I?"
Enzo's eye twitched.
Isabella took a step forward, her anger barely contained. "We know everything," she spat. "You played us. You fed us lies. You made us dance while you pulled the strings." Her eyes darkened. "But you made one mistake."
Moretti smiled lazily. "Oh?"
"You underestimated us."
Moretti chuckled. Like, a full rich-man villain chuckle.
"My dear Isabella," he sighed, shaking his head. "Always so sure you know the whole story."
Enzo's hand hovered near his gun. "Then enlighten us."
Moretti took another slow sip before glancing toward the doorway.
Click.
Footsteps.
And then-someone stepped into the room.
The second Enzo saw them, his heart stopped.
No.
No, no, NO.
Isabella froze, her breath catching in her throat.
"You" she whispered, voice barely above a breath.
The real mastermind smiled.
Everything tilted.
The betrayals. The setup. The months of being played like a damn fiddle.
Moretti leaned back, smirking as he watched the shock unfold.
"You've been playing the wrong game," he murmured.
And then-
The city outside exploded into chaos.
The world was on fire.
From the rooftop, Enzo and Isabella stood stunned as the city erupted in flames and chaos. Gunfire echoed from the streets below. Sirens wailed in the distance. Explosions rocked entire blocks.
Moretti's final play had begun.
And it was an absolute war.
The streets were swarming with mercenaries, hitmen, and Moretti's personal army. Innocent people were caught in the crossfire.
It was madness.
"Son of a" Enzo muttered, watching a nearby car explode into flames.
Isabella clenched her fists. "We have to stop this."
Enzo exhaled slowly.
Everything had led to this. Every betrayal, every loss, every damn secret.
The only way to end this required something neither of them wanted to give up.
Their only shot at stopping Moretti
came at an impossible cost.
Isabella turned to him, her expression unreadable.
Enzo met her gaze, his heart pounding.
"Are you ready to end this?"
And BOOM-another explosion somewhere in the city.
No pressure or anything.