Chapter Twelve : Whispers Behind the Throne

They returned to Naples under heavy security.

The villa on the cliffs was surrounded by Matteo’s men, the gates had been reinforced, the halls were watched in shifts. But even with all the precautions, Serena felt it deep in her bones—

Someone had let the wolves in.

The ambush in Geneva hadn’t been an accident. It had been precise. It had happened less than twenty-four hours after Matteo received a private transmission detailing their travel plans. Plans shared only with five people inside the circle. Someone had betrayed them.

And now the Council was tightening its grip. Matteo had been silenced. Watched. Shackled with restrictions that felt more like a countdown than punishment.

But if Serena knew anything about wolves, it was that they didn’t corner their prey unless they were ready to pounce.

And someone inside Matteo’s house was helping them.

She needed to get to the bottom of it

Very fast

---

The first crack appeared during dinner.

A private meal in the huge dining room, it was just Serena, Matteo, Mara, and two of his men: Enzo, his quiet lieutenant with a scar across his lip, and Pietro, the youngest of his inner guard. Pietro had once nearly taken a bullet for Matteo. He was loyal and energetic. Maybe too eager.

Serena eyes him cautiously, she couldn't afford to trust anyone at this point.

They ate slowly, cautiously, the air between them tight with unspoken tension.

Matteo didn’t look up from his plate when he said, “We’ve changed the outer security pattern. Rotating every four hours. No phones. No radios. Silent signals only.”

Enzo nodded. “Understood.”

But Pietro frowned. “Why silence?”

Matteo’s fork paused mid-air.

“Because they’re listening,” he said simply.

Pietro flushed. “You think someone’s tapping us?”

Matteo’s gaze didn’t waver. “I think someone’s leaking.”

Serena’s heart twisted.

Pietro tried to laugh it off, but it came out brittle. “Come on, boss. Nobody here would—”

“No one’s accusing you,” Mara cut in.

Yet.

Serena looked at each face around the table.

Then she saw it.

Enzo’s fingers tapping—once, twice, then pausing.

It was pattern.

Could it be...

Three short taps on the side of his glass. Deliberate. Mechanical. Like he was counting.

Or sending a signal.

Her eyes narrowed.

But she said nothing.

Not yet.

She needed to be very sure.

---

That night, she couldn’t sleep. Serena tossed and turned in bed all night, she couldn’t shake off the thoughts that filled her head.

Matteo had fallen into a deep, uneasy rest, one arm thrown over his eyes like he was trying to shut out more than just light. Serena slipped from bed without a sound, pulling one of his shirts around her and stepping barefoot into the hall.

The villa was silent.

Except for the soft hum of electricity and the creak of old wood under her steps.

She walked past the armoury. Past Mara’s wing. Down to Matteo’s study—the one no one but he and Enzo were allowed to enter.

It was locked, of course.

But Serena had learned from Matteo. Watched him enough to know where he hid the override key.

She found it behind the third bookshelf, tucked into a hollowed-out copy of Dante’s Inferno.

A little poetic, really.

The door clicked open.

Inside, dim green light bathed the room in an eerie way. A wall of screens tracked every corner of the estate—infrared motion detectors, biometric scanners, live footage.

She sat in his chair.

Breathed in his scent.

And began to search.

---

It took her two hours.

But then she found it—buried in a folder Matteo hadn’t opened in days.

Geneva - Primary Clearance Log

Only five names had access to that travel itinerary.

Hers.

Matteo’s.

Mara’s.

Enzo’s.

Pietro’s.

She leaned closer, scanning the digital footprint trail Matteo had barely begun tracking. Someone had accessed the file… twenty minutes before they left for Geneva.

She matched the device ID.

Enzo.

Serena stared at the screen, heart pounding.

Was it a mistake?

Was Enzo the leak?

She replayed the memory of him at dinner—the tapping glass. The quiet, unreadable face.

Then Pietro’s panic.

Too quick. Too loud.

A distraction?

Or guilt?

Her mind spun.

Now she had no idea if it was just Enzo or if Pietro also knew about it.

If Enzo had accessed the file, it didn’t mean he sent it. But if he did—if he had betrayed Matteo—then he was playing the long game.

The worst kind of traitor.

The kind who waits until you trust them with your life.

---

She locked the study and returned to bed.

Matteo stirred as she slid beneath the sheets.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he murmured.

“No.”

“Nightmares?”

“Something like that.”

He pulled her close, his chin resting on her head.

He stroked her arm softly.

“Tomorrow,” he whispered. “We take control back.”

But Serena didn’t sleep.

She lay awake beside him, watching shadows move across the ceiling, wondering how long they had before those closest to them stopped pretending to be friends.

---

The next morning, Mara pulled her aside.

“You’ve noticed something,” she said bluntly.

Serena blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been watching. Your eyes never stop moving. You’re not asking questions out loud, which means you’re asking them inside your own head.”

Serena hesitated. “Do you trust Enzo?”

Mara’s jaw tightened. “I trust Matteo.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Mara leaned in.

“I’ve known Enzo since before the Valentino wars. He’s killed for us. Bled for us. But lately... he’s been too calm. Too convenient.”

Serena nodded. “I found proof he accessed the Geneva file.”

Mara didn’t flinch.

“Then don’t tell Matteo yet.”

Serena blinked. “What?”

“If we accuse him now, he’ll vanish before we can trace the rest of the network. If we’re going to do this, we do it clean.”

Serena narrowed her eyes. “You’re saying we trap him.”

“I’m saying we bait the rat with cheese.”

---

They didn’t tell Matteo.

Not yet.

Instead, Serena played her part. Soft smiles. Careless conversation. She asked Pietro to teach her how to load a pistol. Laughed when he fumbled the safety.

She passed Enzo in the halls and nodded politely.

Then waited.

And watched.

That night, the signal came from Mara.

A single word text.

Now.

---

Serena moved quickly, heading for the southeast wing.

Mara was already there, crouched beside a vent.

They heard it first, it was Enzo’s voice, low and fast, speaking clipped Italian into a phone.

“I’ve delayed them long enough,” he was saying. “If the girl suspects anything, it doesn’t matter. The location is set. Extraction is in seventy-two hours.”

A pause.

Then: “I’ll deliver her myself.”

Serena’s stomach turned.

He wasn’t just a leak.

He was preparing to hand her over.

---

Mara pulled back from the vent.

“We bring this to Matteo now.”

But Serena’s voice was ice.

“No.”

Mara turned. “What?”

“Not until we know who he’s working with.”

“If we wait too long, he’ll disappear.”

“No,” Serena said. “He won’t. Because tomorrow, I’m going to give him exactly what he wants.”