The Romano estate closed its shutters and settled into silence, a false calm felt over the storm building within. Luca sat in the conference room, sitting at the table with his trusty associates. It was thick with tension, just a sense of betrayal hanging in the air. Sofia had just delivered her report, and the insinuations were damning.
"As for Paolo Ricci," Sofia said, her voice placid but cold, "he was seen consorting with a member of our proletariat. That's Calabriani, but whoever it is he's talking to is one of ours."
The murmurs rippled through the room, but Luca lifted a hand and all fell still. He looked up, piercing, and swept the room. "If there's a traitor in our ranks, I want to know who that is. Now."
Marco stood with his arms crossed by the counter on the far wall. "What's the plan? Ricci is not going to have anything to say unless we make him say it.
Sofia spoke up, sharply. "Ricci's already on watch, you know. We can't move too freely; whoever's chasing us is going to wipe us out the moment we make a mistake."
It was a low, commanding tone, Luca leaned forward. "Then we flush them out. Marco, take a team. I want Ricci alive. And I want to listen to everything he has said in the last week." So, Sofia, let's get into our inner circle. "No one is above suspicion even family."
The words stung, but Sofia nodded. She knew that Luca's ruthlessness was not personal it was about survival.
That night Marco and his team prowled the shadows of south Trento. Ricci's safe house was a dilapidated ruin at the edge of the city, with its windows blackened behind rusted barriers and shattered streetlights. Marco's gut said this was a setup but he had no choice but to chase the lead.
As they approached the house, Marco called for quiet. His men spread out, gun drawn. " Marco touched the door, and it creaked open, revealing a dark, musty interior. The stench of cigarettes and spilled alcohol hit them immediately.
Ricci sat in the middle of the room with his wrists bound to a chair, head bowed. Blood was dripping down a gash on the side of his forehead, and he was panting. Marco approached, his gun drawn.
"Ricci," Marco said, his voice soft but steady. "You have one opportunity to tell me who you've been meeting. Don't waste it."
Ricci moaned and slowly lifted his head. His (bloodshot) eyes and the terrified expression on his face. "I don't know what you're talking about," he replied.
Marco knelt in front of him, gaze icy. "You're lying. I know that you have been involved a little on our side. Who was it?"
"I didn't … I didn't betray anybody," Ricci stammered. "I swear to God, it's not what you think.
Then, before Marco could ask more, a shot went off. The glass shattered, and Ricci pitched forward, a bullet hole clean through his temple. More shots fired and they reverberated in the little chamber, and Marco ducked.
"Ambush!" Marco yelled, shooting back as his men ducked for cover.
The assailants appeared to glide like wraiths, each shot precise and deadly. Marco's squad held their position but the assault was unforgiving. And then in the heart of the chaos Marco saw something a mark painted into one of the walls that caught just enough of the light from the overhead, flickering bulbs. The scarlet snake; The dagger}
The Calabriani family's mark.
When the gunfire ceased, Marco heard the attackers retreating. The room was covered in broken furniture and bloodstains, and Ricci's corpse was slumped in the chair.
Marco stood, his jaw taut. This wasn't just about Ricci. This was a message.
At the Romano estate, Luca walked the floor of his office, his head spinning. When Marco arrived, his face was grim.
"Ricci's dead," Marco said in a flat voice. "Shot before he could talk. And it wasn't random. The sign of the Calabriani's was on the wall."
Luca slammed his fist on the tabletop, rage on a short leash. "They're sending a message. "I think they want us to know that they're coming."
When Sofia came into the room, she had a file. "And they are not working in isolation," she added. "I was tracked for some of Ricci's movements before running for his life. He was visiting someone affiliated with Isabella D'Amico."
Luca looked at her, his voice frigid. "Isabella?"
Sofia nodded. "She's been on both sides for months. She's a part of every step the Calabriani family takes. She's pulling the strings she's in charge.
Sofia's words lingered in the air, and silence enveloped the room. Isabella was once an ally, A person Luca depended on. But now, she was the enemy.
"What do we do?" Marco asked.
And something terrible and cold glittered in Luca's eyes. "Our note to her," as Edna puts it, "is: You wanna play games? "And then let us show her what happens to the Romanos when you betray them.'
Sofia hesitated. "If we make a move on her now, Luca, we put ourselves at risk, even more than we already are. She is working with the family, the Calabriani, who run it. She has allies we haven't named yet."
Luca stepped closer to her, his tone low and deadly. "I don't give a show many allies she has. Isabella made her choice. Now, she pays for it."
That evening, Isabella D'Amico sat in her penthouse, drinking wine and looking out at the city. She had heard about Ricci's death, and she knew it wouldn't be long until the Romanos were coming for her.
But Isabella wasn't afraid. She thrived in chaos, and this was her game. The Calabriani family, Giovanni Rossi, even Luca all pawns on her game board.
She swirled her wine; her phone buzzed. A single message popped up on the screen:
"We know. Sleep with one eye open."
Isabella smiled and hung up the phone. The Romanos thought they could intimidate her, but they had no idea she'd already set bait for all of their moves.
But as the night dragged on, discomfort bubbled up. The game had become something beyond brute strength. It was about survival.
And no one in Trento was untouchable.