PRICE OF SECRETS

The kidnapping of Sofia struck Luca like a blow, stealing the air from his body and constricting his chest with a seething, burning, icy anger. He had been betrayed at the most fundamental level, witnessing firsthand how deep into his life the snake had penetrated. His sister, innocently caught in the middle of his own existence, was Isabella's pawn to manipulate now. He rode up to Sofia's sanctuary, the grounds a blur of contained crisis. His men, faces grim, rushed forward to meet him with urgent purpose, searching the grounds for any sign of the intruders. Alessandro stood at the doorway, his own expression given over to tightly contained fury. No break and enter, Luca, Alessandro said, his voice sour. "The security detail… they were eliminated quick, clean. Like they knew what was heading their way." Luca's jaw clenched. An operation from within. Suspicion eating at him congealed to hard fact. The mole wasn't merely feeding Isabella information; he was actually building her plans. He looked around the room Sofia had been led into. Sterile and blank, to be as safe as humanly feasible. And yet it had been entered with macabre ease. His eyes turned to a security badge on the ground, mangled magnetic stripe, where it had been thrown down in careless abandon. A small detail, perhaps, but one which cried of plotting fixation. "Roll all the security tapes," Luca ordered, his voice stern. "All the cameras, all the angles. I want to know who came in, who left, the whole nine yards." Racing hours were spent sweeping for leads. The security tapes provided nothing concrete – masked individuals, with a practiced silence that spoke to training. This was a ghost raid, one that came to steal nothing and leave nothing behind. Enzo "The Shadow" called last night, his low growl on the phone. "I have a name for you, lupo." Luca clenched his hand around the phone. "Tell me." "Lorenzo Moretti," Enzo said, the name hanging. "Your Westside gang Captain. He's been going out with Isabella, exchanging tips. and goods." The news hit Luca like a stomach punch. Lorenzo. Faithful, or so he'd thought, all these years. The betrayal stung worse than he could have ever thought. "What information?" "Everything, it seems. Your whereabouts, your weaknesses. and what really happened to your sister." "How did he find out about Sofia?" "At your father's request," Enzo told him. "He heard, he pieced together. He harbored grievances, felt under valued. Isabella gave him power, a seat at her table." All of these are blended together to create a vile portrait of calculating deceit. Lorenzo, ambition- and jealousy-driven, had been Isabella's tool, the guardian of his most highly prized secrets. Luca's temper almost got the better of him. He was so furious with Lorenzo and wanted to lash out at him and make him suffer for what he had done. But Sofia was beyond all that now. He had to keep his cool, to think. He summoned his faithful lieutenants – Marco, miraculously unshakeable in allegiance, and a few others whose loyalty was never once questioned. He employed the anecdote, Lorenzo's treachery, Sofia's kidnapping. "Sofia wants something," Luca growled, his eyes cold and unflinching. "Sofia is a pawn. We need to find out what Sofia wants and how to reclaim Sofia unharmed." Marco, whose anxiety was most often at the pinnacle of his feelings replaced by stubborn resolve, moved forward easily. "Lorenzo… he has men all over the city. Safe houses, informants. We can find him." Do it, Luca commanded. "Leave no stone unturned. Bring me Lorenzo and tell me where Sofia is." Hours and days became an anxious waiting period. Luca's life had consisted only of being in his manor house, his waking times spending his every moment patrolling the streets to search for his sister. Slumber meant nothing to him, his nights waking wide-eyed tormenting himself over thoughts of injured Sofia haunting his every thought. Bianca called, her tone so heavy with concern that was convincingly sounding sincere. "Luca, I just heard of Sofia. So sorry." A spark of suspicion, quickly extinguished, was granted to Luca. Had Bianca divined? Was she playing a wiser game than he had credited her with? He pushed the idea away. He would have to trust someone, and if their love had become knotted, he still wanted to think Bianca loved him. "Thank you, Bianca," he growled. "I will find her." "Beware, Luca," she cautioned. "Isabella… she's mad. Desperate." Her words confirmed what he had dreaded. Isabella, the woman who had raged with fury all these years and now had the ultimate ace up her sleeve, was a woman not to be underestimated. Finally, after what felt like forever, Marco returned with news. They had tracked down Lorenzo, hiding out in an old warehouse on the fringes of town. And more importantly, they had a possible lead on Sofia. Luca's heart pounded with adrenaline, his face hard as ice, stone-like. The waiting was over. Action had begun. He summoned his men, a hard, hard-won band of men whom he would trust his life. They crept like phantoms, serious faces, guns at the ready. The warehouse was the destination point. Lorenzo would lead them there. Lorenzo's suffering was brief but fierce. Cornered and unarmed, he offered no resistance, his bluster contracting to a cowering fear. Interrogated savagely by Luca, his face in a white heat of rage, Lorenzo finally broke and betrayed them, told them where Sofia was – an empty, long-deserted family house, long uninhabited, on the fringes of their estates. The ride to the estate was a blur of expectation and adrenaline. Luca's head reeled, his thoughts filled with Sofia, hoping she was okay. He knew Isabella would not think twice about using her as bait, but he could not even bring himself to think about the other. As they pulled up to the crumbling mansion, the feeling of fear hung over them. Nothing filled the air but silence, manicured grass that seemed a bit too tidy and the decrepit house a harsh reminder of defeat. This is where Isabella said no. Luca gestured to his men to advance on the house, softly and in formation. He approached the front door, the great oak doors opening beneath his push, inside a black, empty void. "Isabella!" Luca thundered into the hollow halls, a harsh imperative. "Free Sofia. This need not go as far." A cold, harsh laugh sounded from inside the house. "Does it not, Luca? You took all that was my mother's, mine. Now I will take from you what is yours." Isabella emerged from the shadows, eyes blazing with unholy, maddened light. Sofia stood by her side, as white as alabaster, seeming unscathed, a silent prayer in her wide, white eyes. War was has started.