The fog rolled thick over the old shipyard, swallowing the lights and muffling every sound. The air was cold, heavy with the scent of rust and sea salt.
Damian's convoy arrived first. His men spread out in silence, weapons drawn, eyes scanning the shadows. Luca moved beside him, tense but steady.
"Matteo's secure?" Damian asked.
Luca nodded. "Locked down at the estate. No one gets near him."
"Good." Damian's voice was low. "If this goes wrong, he stays alive until I say otherwise."
They reached the center of the yard, where a single black van waited under a flickering light. Two men stood beside it, their faces hidden beneath hoods.
Damian stopped a few paces away. "You called for an exchange," he said. "I'm here. Talk."
One of the men stepped forward. "You want answers. We want what's ours."
"And what's that?"
"Matteo Moretti."
Luca's hand went to his gun. "Not happening."
The man's tone didn't change. "Then you'll never know who ordered the hit on you.
Matteo was just a pawn. The one pulling the strings is still out there."
Damian's eyes narrowed. "You expect me to believe that?"
The man gestured toward the van. "See for yourself."
At a nod from Damian, Luca moved forward, opened the doors, and froze. Inside were crates filled with ledgers, photographs, and coded documents—all stamped with the Moretti seal.
Damian stepped closer, scanning the contents. Every page was a record of shipments, payments, and names—altered, falsified, rerouted. Someone had been rewriting his empire from within.
"Who did this?" Damian demanded.
The hooded man smiled faintly. "Someone you trusted."
"Names."
The man hesitated, then reached up and pulled back his hood.
It was Ricci.
Luca swore under his breath. "You've got to be kidding me."
Damian's voice dropped to a deadly calm.
"You were with me from the beginning."
Ricci's expression was unreadable. "And I stayed with you long enough to see what you became. You stopped seeing the business for what it is. You started thinking like a man who could be reasoned with. That's weakness."
Damian's jaw tightened. "You call betrayal strength?"
"I call it survival."
The shot came fast. Damian didn't hesitate.
Ricci fell, blood blooming across his chest, his body collapsing beside the van.
Before the echo faded, Luca's voice crackled through the radio. "Boss, we've got movement—north side!"
Gunfire erupted. Men shouted. The night exploded into chaos.
Damian ducked behind a container, returning fire. "Get the files!" he barked.
Luca grabbed the crates, shoving them into the back of their truck. "We're pinned down!"
"Move!" Damian shouted.
From the car, Alessia watched the scene unravel. She saw the flash of gunfire, the smoke, the silhouettes of men falling. Her pulse hammered in her ears.
Then the explosion hit.
The blast tore through the far end of the yard, throwing metal and flame into the air. Alessia hit the ground, the shockwave knocking the breath from her lungs.
When she looked up, the world was fire and smoke.
"Damian!" she screamed.
Through the haze, she saw him—staggering, blood on his face, his gun still in hand. Luca was beside him, dragging him toward the truck.
They barely made it out before the second explosion ripped through the docks.
Hours later, back at the estate, the survivors gathered in silence. Damian sat at the head of the table, his face pale, his hands still streaked with soot.
Luca placed the recovered files in front of him. "Ricci wasn't lying. These records go back months. Someone's been feeding information to an outside network."
Damian's eyes flicked over the pages. "Matteo didn't have access to this level of detail."
"Then who did?" Alessia asked quietly.
Damian looked up, his expression hardening. "Someone closer."
The room fell silent.
Outside, the rain began again, tapping softly against the windows.
And somewhere in the depths of the estate, Matteo waited—alive, silent, and no longer the only traitor in Damian Moretti's house.