Chapter 4

Unspoken Desires - Chapter 4

Sophia

We stepped out of the restaurant into the bright Vegas sun. The heat hits you almost instantly when you leave any air-conditioned space.

Connie wove her arm through mine as we made our way to the waiting limo.

She’d been quiet, but alert, ever since we saw Maria DeLuca. That’s why I decided not to tell her about seeing Svetlana. She was still too much on edge over Maria.

Her eyes scanned the street like any trained Camorra soldier would.

Connie wasn’t one of those pampered housewives. Sure, she was loved, protected, never wanted for anything, but she was steel underneath all the expensive jewelry and silk. Always composed on the outside.

Her guard moved ahead of us, already pulling open the back door as we made our way.

Then - bang. A single gunshot split the air. He dropped before I could even process it. One clean shot, center mass. No warning.

Connie reacted first. She grabbed my arm and yanked me into the limo. It’s bulletproof and we’d be safer inside. But the second the door slammed shut, something felt off.

“This isn’t our car,” she snapped, already reaching for the handle. It didn’t budge. “Where the hell is Davide?”

I tried my door. Locked. Again. Nothing. My heartbeat thundered in my ears.

She pounded on the glass. “Let us out!”

The engine roared to life. The driver kept the partition up, so we couldn’t see who it was.

I grabbed my phone. No service. I reached for Connie’s purse on the floor and dug out her phone, dead signal. The entire limo was a blackout zone.

Through the tinted window, I watched as the car pulled away from the curb and cut sharply around the corner. Tightly timed exit. Whoever planned this knew exactly what they were doing.

Connie sat still beside me. No panic. But I could feel the fury simmering off her.

“Someone switched the car,” she muttered. “Planned it to be fast and clean.”

She wasn’t just reacting, she was assessing. That’s what decades married to a Capo teaches you.

I reached into my purse, fingers brushing past lipstick and receipts, searching for anything sharp. Anything we could use as protection. But deep down, I already knew; they weren’t planning to hurt us. Not yet.

We both started slamming our fists against the partition. We needed the driver to hear us.

We weren’t going down without a fight.

Gabriella

“I swear to God, if Maximus doesn’t make a move soon, or at least give me something. I’m going to pounce on him in front of the whole damn Familia. At an Underboss and Captains meeting. In front of everyone. I don’t care if Dad and Zio freak out,” I say, throwing my hands in the air as my mother and my Zia Mia watch me spiral.

Mom doesn’t even blink. Just lifts one perfectly plucked brow and takes a calm sip of espresso.

“Maybe he’s waiting for marriage, Gabriella. You know his family is very traditional. They abide by strict Roman Catholic beliefs,” she says dryly. “And that archaic Bloody Sheets Tradition.”

Zia snorts so hard she nearly chokes on her biscotti.

“Please. These men storm countries and don’t blink an eye, Gabby. They don’t wait for permission to kiss, or take a girl. Luca was all over me every chance he got. Of course, we were engaged by then. He knew every inch of my body before we even made it to the altar.”

“Exactly!” I groan. “I’ve even tried being half-naked around Maximus, and he just… hands me a robe. Like I’m some sacred relic from the Vatican.”

“Maybe he thinks you are.” Mom mutters. “Or maybe he’s just terrified of your father and your Zio.”

“Or,” Zia adds with a wicked grin, “he’s too noble to do what you clearly want him to do.”

“Way too noble,” I groan. “It’s infuriating.”

The door slams open and Vincent storms in like a bullet—shoulders stiff, jaw locked, eyes scanning.

“Where’s Uncle Mario?”

“Whoa,” I say, straightening up. “What’s going on?”

“It’s not for you,” he mutters, not even looking at me. “I need to speak to him. Now.”

Mom and Zia exchange a look. The kind that drops the temperature in the room five degrees.

“Vincent,” I say, slowly rising. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing you need to worry about, Gabs.”

“Wrong answer.” I step in front of him. “Tell me.”

He looks away, breathing hard. His hands are shaking. His entire body is tight, like he’s holding in a bomb.

“Vincent,” I say again, softer now. “You’re shaking.”

He exhales, finally - like letting go of a weight no one else could see.

“It’s Matt,” he says, voice low. “He’s on a plane back from Lithuania. He found something in Svetlana’s hideout. Photos. Schedules. Routines. Surveillance all on both Sareena and Sophia Morelli.”

My heart drops.

“But it’s worse than that,” he continues. “He found signs that some of our own, both from the Familia and the Camorra. They have flipped. They’re following someone they call The Traitor.”

I can’t move.

“One word kept showing up again and again. Written in the margins, beside names, codes, maps…”

“Predátel,” he says. “The Traitor.”

Silence settles like a fog. Only the espresso machine hums in the background.

“They’re inside,” Vincent whispers. “Someone in our house is feeding her intel.”

I don’t sit back down.

My only thought is protecting my best friends. Both Sareena and Sophia.

Now that the old Sophia is back, and the three of us are finally reconnected - I’m not letting anyone rip us apart again.