Chapter11 : Letters and bloodlust

Antonio:

The frustration boiled within me as I contemplated the implications of Dante Russo's escape. The Venditti name was irrelevant now; Dante was nothing but a fugitive, a man on the run from justice.

I squeezed my eyes shut, my mind racing. Dante was smart, resourceful, and determined. He wouldn't stop until he'd gotten what he wanted.

"I want every inch of the city searched," I growled into the phone. "He won'

As I hung up the phone, my anger simmered, transforming into a cold, ruthless determination. Dante Russo was a pest, a vermin that needed to be exterminated. And I was going to make sure he was eliminated before he could do any more damage.

I rose from my desk, my boots thudding against the floor as I made my way to the window. The city lights sparkled like stars in the distance, but I could sense the darkness that lurked in the shadows.

I clenched my jaw, my teeth grinding together. Dante Russo was out there, somewhere.

Pushing away from the window, I strode purposefully across the office. La rabbia mi bruciava dentro come un fuoco incontrollabile, un furore che domandava vendetta. (The anger burned inside me like an uncontrollable fire, a fury that demanded revenge.)

I snatched my gun from the drawer, checking the magazine with a practiced flick of my fingers. Non avrei fatto misericordia. Questo cane doveva morire. (I would show no mercy. This dog must die.)

With each step towards the door, my rage grew, pulsing through me like a powerful heartbeat. Vincenzo was waiting for me outside, his face grim. "Boss," he said, his voice low and urgent. "The men are ready."

I nodded curtly, my gaze fixed on the darkness outside. "Take me to Dante's last known location," I said, my voice a low growl. "We'll start there."

"Yes, boss.

Sofia

The afternoon was bright and sunny, the city buzzing with life around us. Lilian and I strolled arm-in-arm down the bustling street, a double scoop of gelato in each hand. We chatted about wedding dresses, giggling and laughing as we admired the lavish creations in the shop windows.

Then I noticed the letter, a cream-colored envelope nestled in between two stacks of magazines on Lilian's coffee table.

"Lilian," I murmured, picking up the envelope. "Did you forget to tell me about this?

I turned the envelope over in my hands, running my fingertips over the embossed script. There was no return address, no indication of who had sent it.

"I don't recognize this handwriting," I said, my voice tinged with curiosity. "And there's no name on it."

Lilian frowned, tilting her head slightly. "I wonder who sent it."

"Let's find out," I replied, tearing open the envelope. Inside, a few photographs fluttered to the floor.

"Ma cos'è questo?" (But what is this?) I whispered, my voice shaking as I picked up the photographs.

A wave of nausea washed over me as I realized what I was looking at. A lifeless body. Bruises, cuts, burns.

My mother.

"Dio mio!" (My God!) I gasped, the photographs falling from my hands. "Mamma!"

Lilian rushed to my side, her eyes wide with concern.

"Sofia!" Lilian cried, gathering me in her arms as I crumbled, my heart shattering into a million pieces. "Sofia, it's going to be okay."

But I could barely hear her, my mind racing with questions. Who sent these photos? Why? And what did they mean?

I clutched the photos to my chest, feeling their cold, cruel edges dig into my skin. Mamma. My beautiful, strong mother.

Slowly, Lilian helped me to my feet, her eyes searching mine with concern. "Sofia," she whispered, her voice low and comforting. "We need to call Antonio."

I shook my head, my eyes flashing with anger. "No."

"Sofia, listen to me," Lilian insisted, her tone growing firmer. "You can't face this alone."

"I don't trust him, Lilian!" I snapped, my voice raw with emotion.

"Lilian, you don't understand," I said, my voice firm. "I can't just go running back to Antonio. Not now."

Lilian frowned, her face creased with concern. "But Sofia, you're in danger. Don't you see that?"

"I do," I said, forcing myself to stay strong.

"Lilian, I'm not afraid of Dante, Chiara or my father" I said, my voice trembling with emotion. "I'm not. But I can't trust Antonio. Not with this."

Lilian's expression softened, her gaze filled with understanding. "Sofia, what do you want to do?"

"I want to find out what really happened to my mother," I said, my voice cracking. "I want to know who sent me these photos. And I want to do it on my own."

Lilian nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving mine. "Alright, Sofia." She took a deep breath, her expression serious. "We'll do it together. I'll help you find the answers."

A warmth spread through me, the first glimmer of hope in days. With Lilian at my side, maybe, just maybe, I could find justice for my mother.

"Thank you," I whispered, my voice filled with emotion. "Thank you, Lilian."

Lilian reached for my hand, squeezing it gently. "I'll always be here for you, Sofia. Always."

I nodded, a shaky smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. "Thank you," I repeated, my voice barely audible.

Lilian's gaze held mine, her expression steady and reassuring. "We'll start tomorrow, Sofia. We'll find the answers together."

And with those words, I knew I wasn't alone in this. Not anymore.

And with that, Sofia and Lilian's plan was set into motion. The shadows were closing in, the truth hidden just out of reach. But together, they would uncover the secrets that threatened to tear Sofia's world apart.

And the vendetta between the Russo 's and the Cattaneos would only grow more dangerous.