i-Spy | A Stalker Romance

Chapter 44: Threads of Sanity

Two and a half Months Ago, The Night after the Dockyard Arson. 

Kairo's P.O.V.

The underground chamber was dark, save for the dim light flickering from the old brass sconces lining the stone walls. Shadows danced like phantoms across the cold, damp surface, casting eerie figures that seemed to come alive in the room's heavy atmosphere. The air was thick with anticipation.

I stood at the head of the table, my presence commanding as my eyes scanned the faces gathered before me. These were not men and women of simple ambition; they were the disillusioned, the wronged, and the vengeful. Each one bore scars, both visible and unseen, inflicted by the Order they had once served. Now, they were united under a different banner—

La Mano Nascosta—the Hidden Hand, poised to strike the Order of the Umbra from the shadows.

The table was a massive slab of dark wood, weathered and marred by age. Around it sat the key members of my secret society, their loyalty not to the old ways but to the cause I now championed. 

My cause. My Stella. 

To my left was Elena Marquez, a woman with deep connections to the European underworld. Her lithe figure and delicate features were deceptive, hiding a mind as sharp as a razor and a heart as cold as ice. She had once been the Order's best strategist, but a betrayal by a superior had left her hungry for revenge. Her long, dark hair was pulled back in a severe knot, her sharp green eyes narrowing as she met my gaze. She nodded slightly, acknowledging the gravity of the night.

Beside her was Antonio Ricci, a former enforcer for the Order. His loyalty had been severed the day his brother was sacrificed for the Order's gain. Now, the hulking man with arms full of tattoos and a perpetual scowl was my muscle—a living weapon ready to be unleashed. His fists were clenched on the table, the tension in his massive frame palpable as he listened intently.

Lorenzo Bianchi, the Inspector from the National Police of Italy, was seated to my right. He had been a thorn in the Order's side for years, his investigations always hovering too close to their secrets, yet never quite close enough to uncover the truth. His eyes were sharp, filled with a calculated determination, but I knew better than to fully trust him. Loyalty, in this room, was a currency in short supply.

At the far end of the table, shrouded in the dim light and deeper shadows, sat Victor. He was a figure of calm intensity, his presence both commanding and elusive. Victor was a former hitman for the Order, a man whose name was whispered in fear and reverence within the criminal underworld. His reputation for efficiency and ruthlessness had earned him a place as one of my most trusted spies.

Victor's face was a mask of practiced indifference, his expression carefully controlled to reveal nothing. His eyes, however, betrayed a keen awareness that missed nothing—a sharpness that cut through the darkness and gauged the subtle movements and undercurrents of the room. He had a quiet intensity about him, a simmering focus that spoke of a mind always at work, always calculating the next move.

His role in the rescue of Stella during the chaotic shootout at the Masquerade had solidified his importance to our cause. Under the guise of Marco's guard, Victor had maneuvered through the fray with lethal precision, his actions instrumental in ensuring Stella's survival against overwhelming odds. His loyalty was unquestionable, his skills unparalleled, and his strategic mind an asset we could not afford to lose.

Tonight, however, was special. We had a new member.

Domenico Contii

He had refused Marco's attempt to drag him back into the fold, prioritizing his family's safety over the Order's demands. Now, he was here, aligned with us. But I also knew... it came with a cost.