Chapter 6 - THE TRAITOR INSIDE
Elena picked up Adriano’s phone before Rocco could reach it.
“Don’t move.”
Rocco stopped.
His expression hardened.
“Elena.”
“Stay there.”
“What are you doing?”
She backed toward the garage exit.
“Where is Adriano?”
“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be asking.”
“Marco says you’re working for Barone.”
Rocco went still.
Then he swore.
“Marco contacted you?”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
“No.”
“No what?”
“No, I am not working for Vincenzo Barone.”
Elena held up the phone.
“Prove it.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. You’re the professional criminal.”
Despite the tension, Rocco looked offended.
“Security professional.”
“With a gun.”
“This is Sicily.”
“Rocco!”
“Fine.”
He slowly placed his weapon on the ground and kicked it toward her.
“There.”
Elena stared.
“You’re giving me your gun?”
“You look like you might shoot me accidentally.”
“I know where the trigger is.”
“That is exactly what worries me.”
She almost snapped back.
Then headlights flashed outside.
A vehicle raced through the estate gate.
Rocco shoved Elena behind a stone pillar just before gunfire erupted.
The garage filled with explosions of concrete and glass.
Rocco dragged his weapon back and returned fire.
Elena crawled behind a car.
The attackers retreated almost as quickly as they came.
One vehicle crashed through the outer barrier.
Rocco ran toward the control panel and sealed the estate.
“Still think I’m working for Barone?”
Elena emerged shaking.
“You could be very committed to the performance.”
Rocco stared.
“You and Adriano deserve each other.”
Her heart clenched at his name.
“Find him.”
Rocco’s expression became serious.
“We will.”
They checked the cameras.
Every feed from the garage had gone dark four minutes before Adriano disappeared.
Someone had disabled the system using an internal administrator code.
Only four people possessed that code.
Adriano.
Rocco.
Carlo.
And Adriano’s personal security coordinator, Matteo Greco.
“Where is Matteo?” Elena asked.
Rocco looked toward the empty chair beside the security console.
No one knew.
They searched his room.
Gone.
Clothes missing.
Passport gone.
Laptop gone.
Rocco exhaled.
“Found our traitor.”
“Or someone wants us to think we did.”
A knock came at the door.
One of the guards entered.
“Vehicle found.”
Adriano’s car had been abandoned near the old harbor.
No body.
Inside was blood matching his type.
And one message carved into the dashboard.
MIDNIGHT. GIRL. LEDGER. OLD CANNERY.
Elena stared at the photograph.
“They have him.”
Rocco shook his head.
“Could be bait.”
“It is bait.”
“And you’re the bait.”
“Then we use me.”
“No.”
The word came simultaneously from Rocco and Sofia, who had entered behind them.
Elena turned.
Her mother looked exhausted.
“You are not going.”
“Mama.”
“No.”
“They have Adriano.”
“And if Gianni were alive, he would tell you the same thing.”
Elena’s eyes filled.
“My father died because he tried to do something.”
“He died because violent men hunted him.”
“He died trying to protect us.”
Sofia grabbed her daughter’s hands.
“And I will not lose you because you think courage means walking toward a gun.”
Elena swallowed.
“It doesn’t.”
“Then don’t.”
“Courage means walking toward the truth when fear tells you to pretend you never saw it.”
Sofia closed her eyes.
“Elena.”
“I love you.”
“Don’t say it like goodbye.”
“It isn’t.”
Elena kissed her mother’s forehead.
Then she looked at Rocco.
“We are not giving Barone the real ledger.”
Rocco’s mouth tightened.
“You have a plan?”
“I have a dance.”
The old cannery sat at the edge of Palermo’s industrial waterfront.
At eleven fifty-eight, Elena entered alone.
A copied ledger rested inside her bag.
A wire was taped beneath her dress.
Rocco’s men waited several blocks away.
If the signal dropped, they moved.
Elena walked through rusted machinery until a light switched on.
Adriano sat tied to a chair.
Blood darkened his shirt near one temple.
But he was alive.
His eyes found hers.
Fury replaced exhaustion.
“Elena.”
She almost smiled from relief.
“Hi.”
“What are you doing?”
“Apparently ruining your rescue plan.”
“Leave.”
“That’s rude.”
“Elena.”
A slow clap echoed above them.
Vincenzo Barone descended a metal staircase.
He was older than Adriano, perhaps fifty, with silver at his temples and the easy elegance of a man who enjoyed being feared.
“Beautiful,” he said. “Even under pressure.”
Elena’s skin crawled.
“Let him go.”
“Ledger.”
She held up the bag.
“Adriano first.”
Barone smiled.
“You think this is a negotiation.”
“You think I came here because I’m stupid.”
His smile thinned.
“No. I think you came because you care.”
He glanced at Adriano.
“That makes you predictable.”
Adriano’s jaw clenched.
“Leave her out of this.”
“Oh, she was in this before either of us understood.”
Barone turned toward Elena.
“Do you know why your father taught you Lucia’s dance?”
“To hide the location of the evidence.”
“No.”
Elena frowned.
Barone’s smile widened.
“He taught you because the real evidence was never meant for Adriano.”
Adriano looked up.
“What are you talking about?”
Barone walked toward Elena.
“Gianni did not trust Salvatore. He did not trust Carlo. And he certainly did not trust a twenty-six-year-old Falcone heir studying in London.”
“He left Lucia’s letter for Adriano.”
“A letter.”
Barone tapped the fake ledger in Elena’s bag.
“But the witness list?”
Elena’s heart accelerated.
“He left that to his daughter.”
“I don’t have it.”
“You do.”
“No.”
“You simply don’t know you have it.”
Barone reached toward her neck.
Elena slapped his hand away.
His men immediately raised weapons.
Adriano surged against the chair.
“Touch her again and I will bury every man in this building.”
Barone laughed.
“There he is.”
Elena forced herself to think.
Her father.
Childhood.
Dance.
Music box.
Brass key.
Witness list.
Something she always had.
Something no one would think to take.
Her eyes widened.
Barone saw it.
“You remember.”
Elena said nothing.
“Where?”
She looked at Adriano.
Then began to dance.
Barone frowned.
“What are you doing?”
Elena pivoted.
One step.
Two.
Half turn.
Adriano watched her.
She hoped he understood.
Her father had always told her that dance was a language.
You didn’t need words if someone knew how to watch.
Elena moved left.
Adriano’s eyes followed.
She tapped twice.
Pause.
Look up.
There.
Above the catwalk.
Rocco.
Hidden.
Barone never saw him.
Elena spun again and deliberately stumbled.
Her bag fell.
The fake ledger slid across the floor.
Barone turned toward it.
Adriano kicked his chair sideways, crashing into one guard.
Rocco fired.
Chaos detonated.
Elena dove behind machinery.
Falcone men poured through the entrances.
Adriano broke one wooden arm of the chair against a steel beam and freed his hand.
Barone grabbed Elena.
A gun pressed against her ribs.
“Stop!”
Everything froze.
Barone dragged her backward.
Adriano stood, one wrist still bound.
His face became terrifyingly still.
“Let her go.”
“Drop your weapons.”
Adriano did.
Rocco hesitated.
“Do it.”
Rocco lowered his gun.
Barone smiled against Elena’s hair.
“There. Love makes fools of everyone.”
Elena looked at Adriano.
He was watching her feet.
Good.
She shifted her weight.
Adriano’s eyes changed.
He understood.
Three.
Two.
One.
Elena drove her heel down on Barone’s foot and threw her head backward.
His nose cracked.
The gun moved.
Adriano lunged.
They hit the floor.
Rocco secured the weapon.
Barone was dragged away screaming threats.
Elena dropped beside Adriano.
“Are you hurt?”
“You came here.”
“Yes.”
“I told you not to.”
“You were kidnapped.”
“That does not improve your argument.”
She laughed shakily.
Then kissed him.
Hard.
Adriano froze for one second.
Then pulled her against him.
Rocco turned away dramatically.
“Again, I see nothing.”
Elena laughed into Adriano’s shoulder.
For the first time, victory felt possible.
Then Rocco’s phone rang.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He listened.
“No. Check again.”
Adriano looked up.
“What is it?”
Rocco lowered the phone.
“Carlo is gone.”
Adriano stiffened.
“He left the hospital?”
“He never arrived.”
Elena’s relief vanished.
Rocco continued.
“And Matteo Greco was just found dead near the highway.”
Silence.
If Matteo was dead, he had not kidnapped Adriano.
Someone had framed him.
Someone still inside the Falcone operation had administrator access.
Someone had delivered Adriano to Barone.
And Barone, smiling through the blood on his face as police dragged him away, called across the cannery.
“You still don’t see it, do you, Falcone?”
Adriano turned.
May you like
Barone laughed.
“Your real enemy isn’t me.”
