The night clung to the city like a suffocating veil, dense and heavy. Streetlights flickered dimly along the cobblestone path leading to a run-down warehouse—one of the Russo family's less conspicuous hideouts. Vesper stood in the shadows across the street, his breath steady and mind coldly focused.
He knew his target. Matteo Ferreti, one of Russo's trusted enforcers, known for his brutality and unwavering loyalty. But none of that mattered. Tonight, Matteo was nothing more than another name on Vesper's list.
Vesper waited. Timing was everything. He had spent hours tracking Matteo's schedule, learning his habits, his route, and most importantly, his vulnerabilities. Matteo emerged from the building, accompanied by two others. All three wore heavy coats, their guns likely tucked inside. Vesper's gaze remained fixed on his target, not the distractions.
Matteo paused by his car, pulling a cigarette from his pocket. His companions chuckled at some crude joke, their guard down. Vesper moved.
Silent as a shadow, he crossed the street, boots soundless on the pavement. He kept low, sliding behind the parked cars. The wind rattled a trash can lid, and for a second, one of Matteo's men glanced over his shoulder. Vesper stilled, hand sliding to the knife at his side.
"Relax," Matteo grunted. "Ain't nobody stupid enough to come after us here."
They should have known better.
Matteo flicked his lighter open, flame flaring briefly. In that moment, Vesper struck. The blade glided cleanly through the man's ribs before a strangled breath could escape his throat. Blood seeped into Matteo's shirt as his body sagged forward. Vesper caught him, easing the dead weight down to the pavement without a sound.
The first man barely had time to turn. Vesper's knife whipped across his throat in a swift arc, cutting deep and clean. The man staggered, clutching his neck before crumpling to the ground, blood spilling across the pavement.
The third man reacted faster, reaching for his gun. Vesper was quicker. His arm shot out, the blade sinking into the man's chest. With brutal precision, Vesper twisted the knife, feeling the sickening snap of ribs giving way. The man choked, slumping to his knees, wide eyes fixed on Vesper as the light drained from them.
Vesper stood over the three bodies, gaze emotionless. Blood darkened the pavement beneath their sprawled forms. He reached into his coat, pulling out a single blade engraved with a sharp, elegant 'V'. With care, he embedded it in Matteo's chest—his calling card. The message was clear: Vesper was here.
The wind shifted, carrying the faint echo of approaching footsteps. Vesper melted back into the darkness, unseen.
Moments later, one of Russo's patrols stumbled upon the bodies. The sharp gasp that followed was nearly drowned out by the chaos that erupted soon after.
"Vesper… it has to be him," one of the guards whispered, voice shaking. "No one else moves like that."
Vesper was long gone by then, disappearing into the night, cold and relentless as death itself.
The atmosphere inside the Moretti estate was thick with tension. The clock on the wall ticked ominously, each second stretching as the weight of the news settled over the room. Mr. Moretti and Mr. Russo sat in their study, their expressions a mix of disbelief and concern, their sharp gazes fixed on the television screen in front of them.
News anchors spoke in hushed yet urgent tones, the gravity of the report evident in their voices. "Breaking news tonight—another brutal assassination has taken place, and this time, the victim was closely linked to the Russo family's business dealings. Just hours ago, the body of a known assassin associated with the Russo network was found in an abandoned warehouse south of the city. As expected, the calling card of the infamous Vesper was left behind, marking yet another calculated and deadly strike."
The camera cut to footage of the crime scene—dim lighting, blood pooling beneath the lifeless body, and officers standing around, murmuring among themselves. A forensic specialist held up the unmistakable blade embedded in the victim's chest, the signature 'V' glaring under the harsh camera lights.
Mr. Russo leaned forward, his fingers steepled, his mind racing. "Vesper…" he murmured, his tone unreadable.
Mr. Moretti, always composed, exhaled slowly. "Another one. That makes how many now?"
"Too many," Dante answered grimly, stepping forward. "But that's not all. There's something else."
Before he could continue, the screen flashed with another update. The news anchor's face had turned even graver. "In another shocking turn of events, several warehouses linked to the De Luca family have been reduced to rubble in what authorities believe was a series of coordinated attacks. Sources say that multiple explosions rocked different locations across the city, leaving behind nothing but smoldering remains. Reports confirm that these were De Luca's supply hubs—places storing weapons, illicit goods, and possibly more."
Silence swallowed the room.
Valerio, who had entered moments ago, froze as the realization hit him. He barely spared a glance at Dante before turning back to the screen, his jaw clenching as footage of the burning wreckage played.
"Is this confirmed?" Mr. Moretti asked, his voice deadly quiet.
Dante, still reeling, nodded. "It's all over the place. No one knows how it happened, but whoever did it, they were meticulous. No survivors, no traces left behind. Just… ashes."
A heavy pause settled between them.
"Vesper," Valerio muttered under his breath, the name carrying a mixture of frustration and intrigue.
"He's going after De Luca now?" Mr. Russo questioned, his eyes narrowing. "Why?"
Dante ran a hand through his hair, glancing at his father. "We don't know. But if Vesper has started targeting De Luca's empire, that means one thing—he's not just a contract killer. This is personal."
Mr. Moretti exchanged glances with Mr. Russo. "And that makes him even more dangerous."
Valerio remained silent, his thoughts running wild. He had spent months chasing shadows, trying to unmask Vesper, only to be left with more questions than answers. But tonight… tonight was different. This wasn't just another assassination. This was destruction, calculated and intentional.
And it shook everyone to their core.
Dante exhaled sharply. "If Vesper really is making a move against De Luca, then we need to be prepared. Because sooner or later, that fight is going to come to us."
Valerio's grip tightened around the armrest of his chair. For the first time in a long time, uncertainty flickered through him.
Who was Vesper really after?
And why?
Leona pulled her coat tighter around her body as she stepped out of the cab. The evening air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and freshly cut grass from the estate's expansive garden. She had taken longer than expected at her apartment, collecting her things, unaware of the storm brewing in the Moretti estate. But as she approached the grand doors, something felt different.
The usual chatter of the guards was absent. The men stationed outside stood stiffly, their eyes sharp and alert. A few exchanged quick glances before looking away as if unwilling to meet her gaze. Leona frowned. Something was wrong.
She pushed the heavy oak doors open, stepping inside. The moment she did, the weight of the tension inside hit her like a wave. The air was thick with unspoken words, and the heavy scent of cigar smoke lingered in the grand hall.
At the center of the room, Valerio stood with his back to her, hands clenched at his sides. Dante was pacing near the fireplace, a deep frown marring his features. Mr. Moretti and Mr. Russo sat on opposite couches, both men stone-faced as they stared at the television screen in front of them. Leona followed their gaze.
The news broadcast showed footage of burning warehouses, plumes of black smoke filling the night sky. The anchor's voice was steady but carried an undertone of unease as she reported on the multiple explosions that had taken place in different parts of the city. Warehouse after warehouse, all connected to the De Luca family, had been blown to pieces. The forensic reports had confirmed the disturbing detail—the bodies of men discovered inside the wreckage had been killed before the explosions. One by one, systematically, over the past several days.
Vesper had done this.
Leona inhaled sharply. "What the hell happened?"
All heads turned toward her. A flicker of surprise crossed Valerio's face before he schooled his expression back to unreadable indifference. Dante, however, looked at her with something else—concern? Shock? She couldn't quite place it.
"You're back," Valerio said, his voice neutral. Too neutral.
"Yes." Her brows furrowed. "And clearly, I missed something huge." She gestured toward the TV. "Vesper?"
Dante let out a short, humorless laugh. "Who else?"
Leona turned her gaze back to the screen, her heart pounding. This wasn't just an assassination. This was a statement. A war declaration. And yet… Vesper wasn't reckless. Every move was calculated. What was the motive?
She turned to Valerio. "How long has this been going on?"
His jaw tensed. "A week. One body each day. Hidden until today."
"And no one knew until now?"
"We knew," Mr. Moretti said, his voice sharp. "We just didn't expect this."
Leona bit the inside of her cheek, her mind racing. If Vesper had been eliminating De Luca's men one by one, why reveal them all at once? And why take out the warehouses? It was too coordinated to be senseless violence.
She hesitated before speaking again. "And what's De Luca's response?"
Mr. Russo exhaled, rubbing his temple. "That's the real question."
"Salvatore's reaction was… unsettling," Dante admitted, his tone laced with unease. "He didn't react at all. No threats. No retaliation. It's like he expected it."
Leona stiffened. That wasn't good. An unpredictable enemy was the most dangerous kind.
Her stomach twisted, an odd sensation crawling up her spine. She turned to Valerio, her voice softer. "And you? What are you thinking?"
Valerio was silent for a moment, his gaze searching hers. Then, with a quiet intensity, he murmured, "I don't like this."
Neither did she.
A shiver ran down her spine, and for the first time in a long while, Leona felt something she despised—uncertainty.
Something was coming.
Leona found Valerio standing by the large window of the study, his broad shoulders rigid with tension. His jaw was clenched, his gaze fixated on the darkened estate grounds beyond the glass. The weight of recent events hung over him like a storm cloud, and she hated seeing him like this.
She took a silent step closer, tilting her head as she studied him. "You know," she said, her voice light but teasing, "if you keep frowning like that, you'll get permanent lines on your forehead."
Valerio exhaled sharply, his lips twitching. "Leona—"
"—Yes, I know. Things are serious," she interrupted, waving a hand. "But you need a distraction. I brought you something." She pulled a small chocolate bar from her pocket, unwrapped it halfway, and held it up to his lips. "Eat. Or I'll assume you're incapable of joy."
His eyes flickered to the chocolate, then to her. "Bribing me with sweets now?"
"If it works," she said with a grin.
A beat of silence passed before he finally sighed, leaning in and taking a small bite. Leona smiled in triumph. "See? Not so hard."
Valerio shook his head, but the tightness in his shoulders loosened just a little. "You're impossible, you know that?"
"And yet, here you are, tolerating me."