Veil of Vengeance

CH 21: The Devil's Playground

Chapter 20: The Devil's Playground

Alessandro's POV

The moon was nothing more than a faint whisper in the night sky, shrouded by thick clouds as if the heavens themselves were hiding from the darkness unfolding below. I stood on the balcony of my penthouse, a glass of whiskey in hand, the faint hum of the city barely audible beneath the weight of my thoughts.

Antonio De Luca. The more I dug, the filthier the truth became. Every new piece of information felt like another nail in the coffin of our so-called "friendship." If Antonio thought he could play both sides, he was about to learn that I don't forgive treachery. He's in my crosshairs now.

Marco appeared in the doorway, his face as stony as ever. "We've got him," he said, stepping forward. "Antonio's been meeting with rivals—discreetly, of course, but not discreet enough. They've been plotting something. Couldn't get all the details yet, but it's enough."

I swirled the whiskey in my glass, savoring the burn of it as it slid down my throat. "Of course, he has," I muttered. "The bastard always had that weasel instinct."

"Do you want us to handle him?" Marco asked, his tone nonchalant, as if he were asking what I wanted for breakfast.

I smirked. "No, not yet. Let him think he's still got the upper hand. I want to see how far this rat will go before I snap the trap shut."

Marco nodded, his face impassive. He was used to this—ruthless decisions, blood on our hands. But it was different now. This was personal.

"Any news on Isabella?" I asked, my voice dropping an octave. The mere thought of her meeting Antonio alone made my blood boil.

Marco stiffened slightly. "She's been lying low since the meeting. No signs of her contacting Antonio again."

I exhaled through my nose. She was smart, but I knew she wouldn't stop digging. And she wasn't the type to take my word for it, no matter how many warning signs I threw her way. Stubborn. Stupidly brave. It was one of the things that infuriated me about her—and one of the things that drew me in, like a moth to a goddamn flame.

"Keep an eye on her," I ordered. "If Antonio's playing a game, she's his pawn."

Marco left without another word, the weight of his silence echoing in the air. Alone again, I leaned against the railing, staring out at the city below. My world was one of shadows, betrayals, and violence. There were no heroes here—just different shades of villains.

And yet, I couldn't stop thinking about Isabella.

Isabella's POV

The moment I stepped into Alessandro's office, I felt the shift in the air—thick, dangerous, like a storm brewing just beneath the surface. His eyes, cold and calculating, followed my every move as I crossed the room, taking a seat without waiting for an invitation.

"So," I said, forcing a casual tone. "What's the latest? More bad news, I assume?"

Alessandro didn't respond right away, just leaned back in his chair, swirling his drink as if it held all the answers. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and menacing. "Do you enjoy walking into the lion's den, Rossi? Because that's exactly what you're doing every time you ignore my warnings."

I raised an eyebrow, matching his icy demeanor. "What, no 'darling' today? I'm disappointed."

His smirk was sharp, predatory. "You're playing a dangerous game, cara mia."

I rolled my eyes. "Please, spare me the lecture. I'm not one of your underlings, Alessandro."

"Clearly not," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Because they at least have the sense to stay alive."

His words stung more than I cared to admit, but I wasn't about to let him see that. "I'm not some damsel in distress, Moretti. I can handle myself."

"Really?" he drawled, standing up and moving toward me, his presence looming like a shadow. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're stumbling headfirst into something you don't understand."

I glared up at him, refusing to back down. "And what would you suggest I do? Sit back and let you call all the shots? You think I'm just going to wait for you to 'protect' me?"

His eyes darkened, a dangerous glint flashing in their depths. "This isn't about protection. This is about survival. And right now, Rossi, you're making it damn hard to keep you alive."

I stood up, meeting him toe to toe. "I don't need you to 'keep me alive.'"

Alessandro's smirk returned, though this time it was colder, more cruel. "You sure about that? Because last I checked, you're in the middle of a war. And trust me, dolcezza, I've never lost one."

"Maybe you're underestimating your opponent," I shot back, my voice steady despite the rapid beat of my heart.

His gaze was piercing, cutting through any bravado I tried to put up. "I never underestimate anyone. Especially not someone as reckless as you."

For a moment, we just stood there, locked in a battle of wills. The tension between us was palpable, electric, like a live wire ready to snap.

"You think I'm reckless," I said, breaking the silence. "But maybe I'm just not afraid of the truth."

He chuckled darkly, his hand brushing against my cheek in a way that felt both possessive and threatening. "The truth, Isabella, is far more dangerous than you realize. And when you finally see it for what it is, you'll understand why I've been trying to shield you from it."

I swallowed, my pulse quickening. "I don't need your shield."

"Maybe not," he murmured, his lips dangerously close to mine. "But you'll damn well need me when the time comes."

The weight of his words settled between us, thick and suffocating. I knew he wasn't just talking about Antonio or the mafia war. He was talking about us—the twisted, tangled mess that we had become.

Before I could respond, Alessandro stepped back, his mask of control slipping back into place. "Stay out of this, Rossi. Or the next time we meet, it won't be to talk."

I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to scream. "I can't do that."

His eyes flickered with something—anger, frustration, maybe even something softer—but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. "Then you better be ready for the consequences."

He turned away, leaving me standing there, my heart pounding in my chest. The game we were playing was growing more dangerous by the second, and I had the sinking feeling that no matter how careful I was, I was already too deep to get out unscathed.

As I left his office, the cold night air hit me like a slap, but it did little to clear the fog in my mind. Alessandro was right about one thing—this wasn't a game I could win by playing safe. But I wasn't about to let him or anyone else decide my fate.

If this was war, then I was ready to fight. Even if it meant going toe to toe with the devil himself.

And God help me, I was starting to think I might like it.

To be continued...