Chapter 7: The Deceitful Heart

Isabella Pov

The creaking of the cabin door sent a chill down my spine, every sound amplified in the oppressive silence. My fingers tightened around the edge of the table as I watched Enzo and Vince, their guns aimed at the door, their postures tense and unyielding. Time stretched unbearably, the seconds dragging on like hours.

The door groaned ominously, splintering under pressure, and then it swung open with a crash that reverberated through the cabin. My heart skipped a beat as a tall figure emerged, silhouetted against the faint glow of moonlight. The metallic glint in his hand caught my eye—a weapon, no doubt.

“Drop it!” Enzo barked, his voice slicing through the suffocating tension. His finger hovered over the trigger, ready to fire.

The figure froze. Slowly, he raised his hands, revealing a gun. With deliberate movements, he placed it on the ground and kicked it toward Enzo. The metallic scrape of the weapon against the floor sent a shiver through me.

“Who the hell are you?” Enzo demanded, his tone deadly.

As the figure stepped into the light, my breath caught in my throat. It was Tony. But not the Tony I knew. This Tony was disheveled, his clothes rumpled and dirty, his hair a tangled mess. His sharp, calculating gaze had been replaced by something feral and desperate.

“Tony?” My voice wavered, a mixture of relief and confusion swirling within me. For a fleeting moment, I thought we’d lost him.

Enzo’s expression hardened, his gun still trained on his brother. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

Tony’s hands remained in the air, his breathing ragged. “Enzo, you have to listen to me. It’s not what you think.”

“You’d better start talking fast,” Enzo growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Tony’s eyes flicked to me briefly, as if seeking reassurance, before locking back on Enzo. “I’m not the mole,” he said, his voice trembling with urgency. “I’ve been trying to find the real one, but they’re good—too good. They’ve been playing us all along.”

“Then why did you run?” Enzo snapped, his gun unwavering. “Why didn’t you come to me?”

“I didn’t run!” Tony’s voice cracked, the frustration evident. “I was lured away. They set me up, Enzo. I thought I was closing in on the mole, but it was a trap. They wanted me out of the way.”

A cold knot of doubt twisted in my stomach. Everything Tony said sounded plausible, but the timing was too perfect. Was he telling the truth, or weaving a story to save himself?

“Where were you during the attack?” Enzo pressed, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Tony hesitated, his gaze darting between Enzo and Vince, who stood silently observing the exchange. “I was ambushed. They knocked me out and left me in a warehouse on the east side. By the time I got free, it was too late.”

“How convenient,” Vince muttered, his voice dripping with skepticism. “You show up right after the chaos and expect us to believe you?”

Tony’s frustration boiled over. “I’m telling the truth! I would never betray my family. You have to believe me!”

Enzo’s intense stare bore into Tony, searching for any hint of deceit. The room fell into an uneasy silence, the tension palpable. Finally, Enzo lowered his gun, though his posture remained rigid.

“I want to believe you,” Enzo said, his voice steady but cold. “But things don’t add up. If you’re not the mole, who is? And why set you up?”

Tony’s shoulders sagged slightly, relief flashing in his eyes at the sight of the lowered gun. “I don’t know who it is yet, but I’m close. Someone’s been feeding information to the Morettis, setting both families against each other. They want a war.”

The word hit me like a punch to the gut. A war between the Romanos and the Morettis would be catastrophic—chaos, bloodshed, and destruction on a scale none of us could survive.

“Someone’s been pulling the strings from the shadows,” Tony continued, his voice grim. “They don’t care who gets caught in the crossfire as long as they win.”

Vince stepped forward, arms crossed. “And you expect us to believe you’ve been working alone to stop this?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Tony said. “If the mole knew I was onto them, they’d disappear, and we’d lose our only chance to stop them.”

Enzo’s jaw tightened, his mind racing to piece together the puzzle. “Who else knows about this?”

“No one,” Tony admitted. “I couldn’t trust anyone—not until I was sure. But now, we have to act fast. If we don’t find the mole, this city will burn.”

The weight of his words settled over the room like a suffocating fog. I glanced at Enzo, whose face was a mask of barely contained anger. He wanted to believe Tony, but trust was a luxury we couldn’t afford right now.

“We need proof,” Enzo said finally. “Something concrete to draw the mole out.”

Tony nodded. “I’m working on it. The mole’s good, but they’ve slipped up a few times. I just need a little more time.”

“We don’t have time,” Enzo snapped. “The longer we wait, the stronger they get. We need to act now.”

Tony hesitated before speaking. “There’s one man who can help us. Luciano Bianchi.”

The name dropped like a bomb, sending ripples through the room. My stomach churned. Luciano Bianchi was infamous—a ruthless man with an unparalleled network of informants, loyal only to the highest bidder. Dealing with him was like striking a bargain with the devil.

“You want us to trust him?” Enzo’s voice was incredulous, his eyes blazing with fury.

“I don’t trust him,” Tony admitted, “but he has the resources we need. If we approach him carefully, we can use him to find the mole.”

Enzo’s expression darkened. “If this goes sideways, it’s on you.”

Tony nodded solemnly. “I’ll arrange the meeting. But we need to move now. Every second we waste brings us closer to disaster.”

Before Enzo could respond, a shrill noise pierced the air—a whine, growing louder with each second.

“Get down!” I screamed, diving for cover just as the window shattered in a blinding explosion.

The world erupted into chaos—glass and smoke filled the air, the cabin shaking violently as the blast tore through it. My ears rang, and the acrid scent of burning wood stung my nose.

As the dust settled, I crawled toward Enzo, who was coughing and covered in debris. Our eyes met, and for a moment, no words were needed.

The war Tony warned about had just begun.