Shadows of Betrayal
The mansion never truly slept anymore. Guards patrolled every corridor, radios crackling with coded updates, steel hidden beneath tailored suits. Even the gardens whispered with danger, every rustle of leaves making Elena's heart jolt.
It was early evening when Matteo brought the news.
Lucian sat at the head of the long dining table, untouched plates of food before him. Elena and Isabella sat nearby, the little girl nibbling distractedly at her bread, while Elena tried to pretend this was still a family meal. But the moment Matteo entered, the air shifted.
"Boss," Matteo said, his tone tight, "we have a problem."
Lucian's eyes lifted, sharp and cold. "Speak."
Matteo glanced at Elena, then back to Lucian. "Not here."
Lucian's jaw clenched. He rose, brushing Isabella's hair gently with his fingers before striding toward the study. Matteo followed.
Elena's stomach twisted. She waited until Isabella was distracted with her rabbit, then slipped silently after them. She pressed her ear to the heavy door, her heart pounding.
Inside, Matteo's voice was low. "We lost the warehouse operation last night. Someone tipped Dante off. He was waiting. Half our men didn't come back."
Elena's blood ran cold.
"Who?" Lucian's voice was pure steel.
Matteo hesitated. "We don't know. But it's someone close. Someone with access to routes and timings. Dante's not guessing—he's being fed."
A long silence followed. Then the sharp crack of glass shattering. Elena flinched, imagining Lucian's fist through the crystal tumbler.
"Find them," Lucian ordered, his voice like a death sentence. "I don't care if it's a soldier or a capo. I want the rat dragged to me alive. Do you understand?"
"Yes, boss."
"And Matteo—" Lucian's tone dropped to something colder, darker. "If you fail me, don't bother coming back."
Elena's hand covered her mouth. She slipped away before the door opened, her pulse racing.
---
That night, Elena lay awake, listening to the rhythm of Lucian's breathing beside her. He slept restlessly, his muscles tense even in dreams, his hand curled possessively against her waist.
She stared into the darkness, her mind replaying Matteo's words. A traitor. Someone inside the walls. The thought chilled her to the bone.
Who could it be? The guards who had become familiar faces? The maid who smiled gently at Isabella? The cook who hummed softly in the kitchen?
Every possibility was a dagger against her fragile sense of security.
And Dante Marino—he was no longer just outside. He was inside.
---
Two days later, the betrayal bared its teeth.
Lucian had ordered an ambush on one of Dante's convoys—intelligence suggested it would be transporting cash and arms across the river. But when Lucian's men arrived, the convoy was gone. Instead, they were met with an explosion that turned the bridge into an inferno.
The news reached the mansion in fragments: casualties, chaos, screaming voices on the radio before static swallowed them whole. Elena was in the hall when Lucian stormed in, his suit scorched, his eyes blazing with fury.
Matteo trailed behind, his expression grim.
"What happened?" Elena demanded, fear rising in her throat.
Lucian didn't answer her. He slammed his bloodied fist against the wall, the marble cracking under the force.
"Someone is feeding him our plans," he snarled. "Every move I make, Dante's already there. He's inside my house. My family." His eyes snapped to Matteo. "Tear this place apart if you have to. I want the rat before sunrise."
Matteo nodded sharply.
Elena's heart pounded. She reached for Lucian's arm. "Lucian, stop. You can't just—"
He turned on her, his face inches from hers, his rage a living thing. "Don't you understand, Elena? He's not just after me. He's after you. Isabella. Every time I walk out that door, I wonder if I'll come back to ashes. I won't let that happen."
Her hand trembled on his sleeve. "And what if the man you become in this war is worse than the enemy you're fighting?"
For the briefest moment, pain flickered across his face. Then it was gone, replaced by fire. He pulled away from her touch and barked orders to the guards.
---
Later that night, Elena found Matteo in the corridor, his brow furrowed as he read over a list of names.
"Matteo," she whispered. "Do you know who it is?"
His eyes softened at the sight of her. He looked older, weighed down. "No. But I'll find them."
"And if it's someone close?" she asked quietly.
Matteo's jaw tightened. "Then it will hurt. But loyalty to the Don comes first."
Elena's chest ached. Loyalty. The word sounded like chains.
As she turned to leave, Matteo added softly, "Stay close to him, Elena. He listens to you more than he admits. If he falls too far into the fire… you might be the only one who can bring him back."
She nodded, though the weight of those words pressed heavily on her. Could she really save Lucian from himself?
---
In a dimly lit room across the city, Dante Marino smiled as he poured himself another glass of wine.
A shadowy figure sat across from him, face obscured by the light.
"You've done well," Dante murmured. "Every piece of information you've given me has kept me a step ahead of Moretti. He trusts you. He doesn't suspect."
The figure leaned forward slightly, voice low and steady. "He won't. By the time he realizes, it'll be too late."
Dante's smile widened. "Good. Because when the king is betrayed, his whole empire burns."
---
Back at the mansion, Elena lay awake once more, her daughter curled against her side. The house felt colder, the shadows deeper. Somewhere within these walls, someone had already sold them out.
And she couldn't shake the terrible thought: what if the traitor wasn't just one of Lucian's men? What if it was someone closer?
She turned her head, watching Lucian as he sat in the chair by the window, gun on the table beside him, his silhouette sharp against the night sky.
The man she loved was both her shield and her greatest fear.
And now, betrayal lurked in the shadows—ready to strike where it hurt most.