All Chapters of THE MORETTI PROTOCOL : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The crimson morning light continued to flood the small log cabin, casting harsh, linear shadows across the floorboards. Alessia stood flush against the cold timber wall near the heavy wooden cabinet, her arms locked defensively over the oversized fleece sweater. Her breath hitched, shallow and erratic, creating faint white puffs in the lingering chill of the room. Her cheeks burned with a violent, unnatural flush that had absolutely nothing to do with the dead fireplace. She kept her single hand raised, palm out—a direct, unspoken decree from a mafia monarch ordering a predator to halt. Valerie stopped her advance, but her boots didn't retract. She stood just four feet away, her tall frame blocking the crimson glare of the window. Her muscular arms, marred by faint tactical scars from her brutal past, were loose at her sides, but her hands were empty. She had left her silenced pistol on the mattress behind her. The clinical, unfeeling mask of the Phantom assassin was completely strip

The suffocatingly close heat in the cabin had become too much to bear. Every syllable that left Valerie’s lips was like a match struck near dry timber, igniting a dangerous, unfamiliar warmth inside Alessia's chest. Unable to handle the overwhelming feeling she was having because of those words that came from Valerie, Alessia abruptly threw her hands up in the air. She needed an exit strategy from the conversation, and she needed it immediately. "What now? I'm hungry," Alessia muttered, changing the topic in a single, sharp breath. She crossed her arms tightly over the oversized gray fleece sweater, looking as grumpy as she could be. Her bottom lip was touched by a faint, involuntary pout, and her eyebrows were knitted together in a fierce scowl that completely contradicted the soft, burning crimson still coating her cheeks. She looked less like the feared Iron Queen of the eastern seaboard and more like a deeply vexed woman trying to salvage her shattered dignity. Valerie didn't

The walk back from the hidden lake was a slower, heavier journey than the sprint that had brought them there. The morning sun was fully up now, its golden rays piercing the thick pine canopy and cutting the dense morning mist into long, glowing pillars of light. The sharp, crisp scent of damp earth and wet pine needles filled the air, blending with the smell of fresh mountain water in Valerie's leather satchel. Valerie walked a step ahead, the collapsible graphite rod secured over her shoulder and the heavy satchel swinging easily against her hip. Despite the domesticity of carrying their breakfast, she didn't walk like a casual hiker. Her head subtly rotated, her amber eyes scanning the dense brush, checking the natural choke points between the massive trees, and looking for any unnatural disturbance in the dirt. Her assassin instincts were a permanent fixture. Alessia fell into line directly behind her, keeping her hands tucked securely into the deep pockets of the oversized gray f

The fire had burned down to a quiet, smoking mound of ash, leaving only a few stubborn crimson coals pulsing in the dirt. The morning light had completely shifted, losing its bleeding red hue and turning into a bright, unforgiving gold that laid bare every line of exhaustion on their faces. The peaceful illusion of the lake and the fresh trout had officially dissolved, replaced by the heavy, suffocating return of reality. Valerie finished clearing the makeshift cooking grate and sat back down on the log directly across from Alessia. Her amber eyes drifted to the cabin door, then back to the proud, rigid woman wrapped in her oversized fleece sweater. The pure, unbridled joy of Valerie's laughter from earlier was entirely gone, replaced by a sudden, heavy hesitation that weighed down her shoulders. "Alessia," Valerie began, her voice dropping into a low murmur that barely carried over the mountain breeze. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, her honey-colored eyes loc

The cool air inside the log cabin grew heavy as the map of the syndicate’s remaining fractures was laid bare between them. Before Valerie could turn toward the door to depart, Alessia leaned heavily against the edge of the rustic wooden table, her obsidian eyes dark with calculation. "Before you set foot back onto those blood-soaked docks, you need to understand exactly who you are dealing with," Alessia commanded, her voice dropping into a sharp, clinical frost as she provided the vital intelligence on her remaining loyalists. "If Capo Bruno accepts the silver ring, he will immediately route you to Capo Demirci. Demirci manages our logistics, shipping manifests, and high-level banking grids out of the financial district. He is precise, deeply traditional, and controls the money lines Maddie Ferro needs to fund her expansion. If Demirci falls, Maddie’s coup starves within forty-eight hours. Lastly, there is Capo Moretti, my uncle. He commands the heavy muscle and the armories in the l