Chapter 58 - Let The Blood Flow

The dining hall of the Morelli villa pulsed with tension. Morning had slipped into afternoon, and while the family gathered under the pretense of lunch, nobody touched their food. The air was too thick with unspoken strategy, the scent of roses from the courtyard now mingled with unease.

Massimo stood at the head of the table, arms crossed, eyes narrowed on the map spread across the surface.

“We took out their safehouse in Napoli last night,” Lorenzo reported, seated beside Talana. His voice was calm, but his body remained coiled, every muscle alert. “Only three survivors. One of them slipped away during transport—”

There was a knock at the door, everyone turned sharply. Matteo one of Massimo’s most loyal men, entered with two others dragging a bloodied man between them. His nose was broken, face caked in dried sweat and filth. A makeshift gag was stuffed in his mouth. His arms were bound tight behind his back, legs scraped raw from being dragged through the gravel road that led to the villa’s perimeter wall.

“He tried to flee on foot toward the coast,” Matteo said, voice low. “Didn’t get far.”

Massimo’s eyes flicked with dark amusement. “Isn’t that sweet. De Marco’s dogs still think they can outrun their fate.”

The prisoner whimpered under the gag, attempting to speak.

Talana stood slowly, the fire in her chest still simmering from the revelation of Gianna’s pregnancy and everything that came with it.

“Take the gag out.”

“Are you sure?” Lorenzo asked, not as her lover, but as the Morelli enforcer.

She nodded once. “He might be stupid, but he’s not going to die without telling us something useful.”

Matteo ripped the gag free, and the man gasped, blood dribbling from his mouth. “You’re all dead,” he rasped, coughing. “You don’t know what you’ve started.”

Massimo tilted his head. “I’d say it was started years ago. You’re just catching up.”

“You think you’ve won?” the man spat, eyes darting to Talana. “He’s already moved the second shipment. You’re too late. You can’t stop him.”

Talana stepped closer. “De Marco?”

The man sneered, blood staining his teeth. “He’s smarter than all of you. He’ll slit your throat while you sleep, and he’ll make you watch your empire burn.”

Lorenzo moved like a shadow, slamming the prisoner’s head into the map table. The crack echoed like a whip through the room. “You don’t talk to her like that.”

Talana didn’t flinch. She crouched down beside the bleeding man, her voice calm. “Tell me where the second shipment went. You’ll die either way. This is just about how painful it’ll be.”

“You don’t scare me,” he hissed.

But Talana’s expression didn’t change. She leaned in, whispered, “I’m not here to scare you. I’m here to make sure even hell won’t want what’s left of you.”

The man’s eyes widened.

Gianna entered just then, one hand resting gently on her lower stomach, the other holding a folded linen cloth with cold water for her friend. She paused when she saw the scene. “Is it bad timing?”

Talana looked up at her with a faint smile. “Perfect timing. You always had good instincts.”

Massimo nodded toward Matteo “Take him downstairs. Lorenzo will handle him.”

The prisoner screamed, twisting, but Massimo’s men dragged him out, his voice echoing through the stone halls.

Silence lingered in the aftermath.

Gianna moved to Talana’s side. “They’re getting reckless if they’re letting men like him carry their secrets.”

“Or they’re desperate,” Massimo added. “De Marco knows we’re close. That makes him sloppy.”

Talana’s eyes didn’t leave the door. “We need to move faster.”

Massimo looked between the women, his voice tight. “We will. But if De Marco has moved that second shipment, we have a narrow window to intercept.”

Lorenzo returned moments later, blood on his sleeves, his jaw set.

“He gave up a name,” he said. “Carlos Mendez. They’re using an old fishing route through Calabria. Supposed to move by tomorrow night. We’ve got less than twenty-four hours.”

Massimo’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Then we burn every dock from here to Sicily if we have to.”

Talana stepped toward the window, her fingers brushing the cold glass. Her voice was soft but deadly.

“Let’s remind them why our family never loses.”

Here is Chapter 58 — Part 2 of The Beauty of a Silent Vendetta, continuing with intensifying plans for the takedown of the trafficking network, emotional aftermath, and rising shadows.

The war room beneath the villa buzzed with urgency. A digital map glowed on the far wall, highlighting routes stretching from Calabria down through the Ionian Sea. The second shipment—trafficked women hidden beneath false cargo—was en route. Time was against them.

Massimo, Lorenzo, Mariano, and Don Roberto stood around the map. Talana had just stepped out to call Sanchiano’s southern contacts.

“She’s changed,” Mariano murmured under his breath.

Massimo didn’t look up. “She had to.”

Don Roberto folded his hands behind his back. “She’s becoming a Dona in the truest sense. And that’s dangerous—for our enemies and for her. She’ll need us more than ever.”

“She won’t ask,” Massimo replied. “But I’ll be there. Every step. I swore that long before the crown.”

Gianna waited in the adjoining corridor, hands cradling her stomach. Lorenzo joined her quietly.

“You okay?” he asked gently.

She nodded, biting her lip. “I didn’t want to tell Talana like that, not when things are so violent. But it slipped out.”

“She was happy for you,” he said softly. “In her own way.”

Gianna turned toward him. “Lorenzo… I’m scared. Not of the baby. Of what comes after. What kind of world are we bringing this child into?”

He pulled her into his arms. “The kind we’re fighting to change.”

Their moment was short-lived. Talana returned, expression tight.

“Matteo confirmed the location. Port of Brancaleone. Midnight tomorrow. They’ll dock for two hours. That’s our only window.”

Massimo nodded. “We’ll split into two teams. Lorenzo leads the intercept. Mariano and I take the perimeter.”

“And I’ll handle the girls,” Talana added. “Medical. Safehouse transport. I want eyes on every one of them. No more shadows. We make sure they get no more girls either."

Mariano stepped forward. “That’s not your role anymore, cugina. You’re the Dona now.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” she replied, cool fire in her tone. “But I need to do this."

Massimo’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue.

Don Roberto placed a steady hand on her shoulder. “Then do it your way. But promise me—if something goes wrong, you pull back.”

“I promise,” she said. But her eyes said otherwise.

That night, the villa was unusually quiet.

Talana stood alone in the garden, a glass of red wine untouched in her hand. The scent of lemon trees filled the air.

Massimo approached slowly. “You’re not sleeping.”

“Neither are you.”

He stopped behind her, resting his hands on her hips. She leaned into his warmth, grounding herself.

“They’ll come harder after tomorrow,” she whispered. “De Marco won’t stop unless we bury him.”

“Then we will,” Massimo said, voice low. “But we need to be smart. One wrong move, and this child—” he glanced toward the villa, where Gianna and Lorenzo rested “—never meets its father.”

Talana turned to face him. “Do you regret this life, Massimo?”

He shook his head. “I regret the blood. Not the cause.”

She nodded slowly. “I’ll hold onto that tomorrow.”

He cupped her face. “You don’t have to carry all of it.”

“I do. Because Pablo’s sins… they started this. And mine will end it.”

Far away, in a candle-lit villa carved into the cliffs of Salerno, de Marco swirled a glass of vintage brandy.

Across from him, a courier spoke fast and trembling.

“They know about Brancaleone.”

Drake didn’t react at first. Then he smiled. “Let them come.” He stood slowly, walking toward the window overlooking the dark sea.

“Tell the captain to keep the shipment moving. But if they breach the port… let the blood flow. I want the sea red with Morelli death.”

The courier hesitated. “And the girl?”

Drake’s smile turned feral. “Talana? If she steps onto that dock, don’t kill her.” He turned, eyes gleaming like a beast. “Bring her to me.”