Code Hidalgo

17. My Obsession

She is effortlessly beautiful.

And I hate that particular fact about her. Out of everything I've despised in my life, the list is long and filled with things deserving of contempt, but my time on this flight with her, breathing the same air as her, has narrowed it down to three things.

Her soft snores.

Her quiet, sleepy murmurs.

Her lips.

She stirred at some point, her lashes fluttering open just enough for our gazes to lock. I didn't hesitate, instructing Enrico to inject her again-not enough to kill her, but just enough to render her unconscious, helpless, pliable. She swore at me as the drug took effect, her voice laced with venom, even as her eyelids grew heavy and her strength ebbed away. She's no ordinary captive; she's a high-level trained Italian-American mercenary. I'm not surprised we've had to replace the chains more than once, the metal groaning under her relentless struggle.

The nerve of the United States government, thinking they could outmaneuver me in a drug operation. I saw it in her eyes back at the dock-the moment she realized what had happened. That I had caught her, not the other way around. Now, we're thirty thousand feet in the air, and I'm sitting opposite their most valuable agent. The same agent that her government expected me to dispose of, to rid them of the nuisance and simplify their problems. Instead, she's here, unconscious at my feet, a reminder that no one, not even her, can predict my moves. I know she could wake up at any moment, the venomous resolve in her could have her reaching for the gun strapped to my side or tearing open the bullet wound in my hand, a wound that Enrico, with all his skill, barely managed to treat.

I remember the look of sheer shock in her eyes when she fired that shot and I didn't so much as flinch. Pain has been a stranger to me for a long time. Too long.

Enrico appears beside me and lowers himself into the seat next to mine. His face is a mask of concern, though he wisely keeps his questions to himself. Right-hand man or childhood friend, it wouldn't matter; I could have his head on a stick if it suited me.

"What's next?" he asks, his voice low, careful. "Where does this obsession of yours lead us?"

Is he deliberately trying to test my patience, or is he simply oblivious to the broader picture?

"This obsession of mine," I reply, letting each word drip with meaning, "takes us back to Milan. From there, we'll attempt to negotiate with the Americans. They'll give us what we want, and in return, they get their precious agent back. If she's still breathing by then."

Enrico hesitates, the slightest twitch betraying his nerves. "You've been a true believer," he begins cautiously. "And you've done a remarkable job restoring the Dominion, making us once again the most feared syndicate in the criminal world. I hope you don't lose sight of that."

I turn to him slowly, fixing him with a gaze that makes him flinch. "Are you insinuating something, Enrico?"

He swallows, then gestures to Laura's unconscious form sprawled on the seat. "This...this isn't your usual playbook."

I glance down at her, then back at him, my voice cold and final. "It isn't, indeed, but isn't that the fun part?"

I look at Laura's unconscious body. She was trained to kill, dispose and come out clean. She is one of Lombardi's special children.

And so I'm I.

The terrified pilot informs us of our current status. The chopper lands, we are in Milan. Not home, just Milan.

I don't have a home.

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I unchain Laura and lift her limp form into my arms. She murmurs something unintelligible, her voice barely a whisper. The chopper's rotors are still whining as we step onto solid ground, the cool night air biting at our skin. The sight in front of me is both unexpected and painfully familiar.

My mother, Helena Hidalgo, stands before us. Once, she was celebrated as the most beautiful woman in Milan-a vision of grace and allure. But that was before the catastrophe, before her twisted ambitions brought ruin in a failed attempt to seize control of the Dominion. Her insatiable hunger for power, that dark legacy, was passed down to me. But unlike her, I've honed it, mastered it, built an empire so vast and unbreakable that it will endure long after I've left this world.

She gasps, her eyes widening in shock as she sees Laura in my arms. I don't acknowledge her. I simply walk past, my gaze fixed ahead, ignoring her as I have done for the past nine years. Americans might chalk this up to "mommy issues," but this goes far beyond that. She's no ordinary mother; she's the kind of sinner the Popes in the Vatican whisper about in their darkest confessions. And though I am far from a saint, my mother-she is the sole creator of an original sin.

"Who is she?" My mother's voice cuts through the tension, cold and sharp.

I don't bother to answer her. Instead, I turn to Enrico, my right-hand man. "Escort her back," I command, my voice low but firm.

Enrico nods and steps forward, taking my mother by the arm. Her protests fall on deaf ears as I stride towards my waiting car. I place Laura carefully in the back seat, her head lolling to the side as I slide in next to her. The door closes with a soft thud, sealing us in together.

Soon, Laura will wake. She'll realize where she is, and the panic will set in. She'll try to escape, clawing at the door handles in a desperate bid for freedom. When that fails, she'll resort to screaming, cursing me, maybe even spitting in my face. And I'll be there for all of it-watching, waiting, savoring every moment of her futile resistance. The game is about to begin, and I can't wait to see how she plays.

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A U T H O R 'S N O T E

Hope you loved these chapters!

It's exam season for me so updates are on hiatus for now.

See you soon!