Chapter 10 - The Test

The streets of Madrid were quiet, except for the hum of the engine as Matteo drove Elena through winding back alleys she didn’t recognize. The night breeze was blowing gently, and the city lights glowed like distant fireflies in the rearview mirror.

Elena sat in silence, eyes flicking from the road to Matteo’s face. He hadn’t said a word since they left the Black Orchid. His jaw was clenched, his grip on the steering wheel tight.

“Where are we going?” she finally asked, her voice calm, and steady.

“To deliver a message,” Matteo replied without looking at her.

“To who?”

Matteo shot her a sharp look, his lips spreading into a half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “We’re delivering a message to the Caruso family who attacked us tonight and anyone else who thought they could attack the DeLuca family and get away with it.”

“The Caruso family was the one who attacked us tonight!” Elena exclaimed, surprise coloring her tone.

Matteo raised an eyebrow. “You know the Caruso family?”

“I did my homework on all the cartels in Madrid before I joined yours,” Elena replied evenly.

Matteo chuckled, a hint of amusement in his voice. “You don’t strike me as the book-smart type, but I was wrong.”

“But why would the Caruso family attack DeLuca? Weren’t we allies?” she asked.

“That’s what we thought,” Matteo said, his expression darkening. “We had a business deal that involved a lot of money but the current leader of the Caruso family is greedy—he saw an opportunity to expand and decided loyalty was optional.”

“He betrayed the DeLuca family for money?” Elena scoffed in amusement.

They arrived at a warehouse on the edge of the city—abandoned to the average eye, but Elena could feel the buzz of danger in the air. Two guards flanked the entrance. Matteo didn’t need to speak; they stepped aside with a nod and opened the steel door.

The warehouse was dark as they stepped in, Elena couldn't see anything but she could smell oil and blood.

Matteo walked to the center and flipped on the overhead bulb. Its dim light revealed a middle-aged man slumped in a wooden chair—his face bruised, his shirt shredded, and each ragged breath a struggle.

“That’s Diego Caruso,” Matteo announced, nodding toward the captive. “Head of the Caruso family. We caught him trying to slip out of Madrid.”

Diego’s eyes snapped open, fury burning in their depths. “I wasn’t fleeing,” he spat, voice hoarse. “I was on my way to a meeting—until you baboons dragged me in.”

“You’re going to help me get him to talk,” Matteo said, ignoring Diego as he turned to Elena.

“What?” Elena blinked.

“You want to be one of us, don’t you? Time to get your hands dirty.”

He handed her a cloth and a bottle of hydrochloric acid. Elena stared at the tools—basic, but known for a purpose. She had seen this before. Too many times.

“I thought you wanted information,” she said, carefully.

“I do,” Matteo replied coolly. “That will help you get it out.”

Her fingers tightened around the bottle, but she forced a neutral expression.

Inside, her instincts screamed. This wasn’t just a mission. It was a test. And Matteo was watching her like a hawk.

“Elena,” he said, his voice lower now. “Don’t hesitate. Because in this family, hesitation is weakness.”

“I don't know what to do with these,” Elena said, stepping backward slowly, her mind racing. She couldn’t blow her cover—not yet.

“Even if you’ve never tortured anyone before,” Matteo said, lighting a cigarette and leaning back against the wall, arms folded, “I’m sure you’ve watched your former boss do it. Now show me what you’re made of.”

He shoved her gently toward the prisoner.

Elena squared her shoulders and faced Diego. His eyes flew open, terror etched in every line of his face.

“What do you think you’re doing, girl?” he snarled, voice quavering as he struggled against his ropes. “Do you even know who I am?”

For a split second, Diego’s terrified gaze made Elena think about her father.

Was this the way he looked moments before his life was snuffed out?

Had he pleaded and begged for his life?

A rush of questions flooded her mind as she stared at Diego.

Was she doing the right thing?

How far would she go to remain undercover and avenge her father?

She had already killed once—how many more would it take? And even if they were criminals, did that justify her actions?

“We do not have all day, Elena. It's only a matter of time before his people find him,” Matteo called out, bringing Elena out of her thoughts.

“Let’s begin,” she said quietly, as she knelt beside him—masking the conflict brewing in her soul.