The Mafia Queen's Obsession

Part 8

She'd been so focused on taking down the Moretti empire, on getting the story of a lifetime, that she hadn't fully understood the forces she was up against. 

The task force wasn't just some government group—they were a shadow, moving through the cracks of society, erasing anyone who dared to expose them.

Ayla took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. 

There was no going back now. 

Her investigation was already too deep, and she couldn't just walk away. 

But now, she had to be smarter. 

She had to play this game carefully, because the stakes had just become a hell of a lot higher.

A thought flashed through her mind—What if this was never just about the Morettis? What if the real story, the real danger, was something far bigger than a mafia empire?

Her mind raced, but one thing was certain: she couldn't keep doing this alone. She needed help, someone she could trust, someone who could give her a fighting chance. But the task force had eyes everywhere. 

She couldn't trust anyone—not unless she was sure they weren't already compromised.

Her hands shook as she closed her laptop, the weight of the decision pressing on her chest. The task force had already found her, and now it was only a matter of time before they came for her.

 But Ayla wasn't going down without a fight.

 She had a job to do, and she wasn't going to let some shadowy government task force—or the Morettis—scare her off. 

Not now. 

Not when she was this close.

Not ever.

She just had to be careful. Very careful.

Ayla stood, her resolve hardening. She wasn't backing down. T

his was her story. And she wasn't going to let anyone—no matter how powerful—take that from her.

The Moretti empire was under siege, but not from the usual suspects.

 This time, it wasn't law enforcement knocking at the door or rival gangs gunning for control. No, this was something far more dangerous, far more calculated—a shadowy government task force, a group operating in the darkness, working outside the law to bring the Moretti family to its knees.

This task force didn't play by the rules.

They weren't interested in arrests or public trials. Their goal was simple: total erasure. They targeted anyone and everyone who had even a hint of connection to the Morettis—mafiosos, money launderers, corrupt officials, and yes, even journalists like Ayla Novak.

The way they operated was brutal in its efficiency. The task force wasn't above using any means necessary to eliminate their targets—disappearances, false charges, intimidation, and worse. 

Anyone who stepped out of line, anyone who dared to dig too deep, found themselves facing consequences far more severe than jail time.

 They had a way of silencing people permanently.

Ayla had already felt the heat of their presence, the way Selene's words had lingered in her mind, a warning she couldn't ignore. 

But now, it was becoming clear that the world she was stepping into was more dangerous than she had imagined. 

The Morettis weren't just protected by their own power—they were shielded by forces far bigger and more elusive.

The task force had already begun to tighten the noose around the Moretti family, using every resource at their disposal to erase the mafia's influence from the city. They had methods that were invisible to the public eye—leaving behind no traces, no fingerprints.

For Ayla, this meant that the risks she faced weren't just from the Morettis.

 The task force was everywhere, watching, waiting, and they had no tolerance for journalists digging up the past.
 If they suspected her involvement, if they caught wind of her digging into Selene Moretti's world, they would make sure she disappeared just like everyone else who had gotten too close.

Ayla had no illusions. 

She wasn't just after a story anymore—she was now in the crosshairs of forces that operated in the dark, where truth didn't matter, and survival was the only goal.

As she sat in her apartment, still shaken by her encounter with Selene, Ayla couldn't help but feel the weight of what she'd stumbled into. She thought she could expose the mafia, tear down its foundation, but this? This was something far bigger.

 It was a game of shadows, and she was already in way over her head.

And yet, despite the fear, the uncertainty, something inside her refused to back down. She had always been a fighter, and now she was fighting not just for a story, but for her life. The Morettis, the task force—everything was connected in ways she didn't fully understand. 

But one thing was clear: if she wanted to survive, if she wanted to make it out of this alive, she would need to play the game on their terms. And that was a game she wasn't sure she was ready for.

But there was no turning back now.

Ayla's heart skipped a beat as her phone buzzed again, the notification flashing on the screen. 

She stared at it for a moment, hesitant. 

The message was from an unknown number.

You need to leave.

Her fingers hovered over the screen, her mind racing with confusion and dread. What did that mean? She was already on edge, her thoughts consumed by the task force and the mafia. Was this some kind of prank? Or worse—someone knew what she had uncovered.

She tapped the message open, eyes scanning quickly.

Why?

The reply was almost immediate, chilling in its bluntness.

Because someone is targeting you.

Ayla's breath caught in her throat. A cold shiver ran down her spine as the words settled in. She stared at the screen, her mind struggling to process it. How did they know? Who was this?

Her fingers trembled as she typed the next question, her thoughts frantic.

Wait, what?

The response came quicker this time, the message even more direct, as if they were speaking in code, or perhaps, warning her.

You've already been flagged. They know what you're doing. It's not safe for you anymore.

Ayla's pulse thudded in her ears. A thousand questions flooded her mind—Who was this person? How did they know what she was investigating? The realization hit her like a punch in the gut: Someone knew exactly what she had been up to. And they were warning her.

A wave of panic threatened to rise, but Ayla forced herself to take a deep breath, trying to steady her shaking hands. This wasn't a time to panic. She had to think.

Who are you? 

She typed, her fingers flying over the screen, desperate for some sort of answer. But the response never came.

She sat there, staring at her phone, the seconds stretching into an eternity. It felt like the walls were closing in. She couldn't keep running blindly, but she couldn't ignore this warning either. 

Whoever had sent this message, they were in the know. And that meant they had access to information about her—information that was dangerous.