THE RETURN

Marco was waiting inside, accompanied by some of Isabella's best men. A sizable city map with red highlights was strewn all over the table.

"What is this?" Leo approached and asked.

Marco gestured toward the south side's red circle. A hit was made an hour ago on one of our warehouses. The location was burned by Moretti's men.

Leo's jaw became tense. "Deaths?"

"We had two guys who didn't make it," Marco stated somberly. "Some people are hurt."

Despite Isabella's composed demeanor, Leo could see the blaze in her eyes.

She muttered, "We knew he'd retaliate.

Arms folded, Leo said. "What is the answer?"

Isabella looked at Leo and then back at Marco. "We retaliated."

Leo grimaced. "How?"

Placing a folder on the table, Marco slid it in his direction. "We've got a place. Outside the city, in one of their safe houses, Moretti's men are holed up.

Leo opened the folder. Maps, surveillance photos, and a list of names were all inside.

Simply, Isabella said, "We take it out."

Leo raised his gaze. What's an eye for an eye?

She had a sly smile. "That's the way the game is."

Leo blew out a breath. They were planning another kill right after he had barely processed the first.

"

inside?" "What?" he inquired.

Marco gave a nod. Six men—possibly more. primarily enforcers. No civilians.

Leo looked at the map. "When are we moving?"

"Tonight."

Leo shut the folder. Isabella's voice was free of hesitation and self-doubt.

She lived in this world.

And now he was in it.

The Attack

A few hours later, Leo was crouching behind a black SUV with a gun in his hand while the chilly night air pricked his skin.

Do we have information about who's Are we aware of who is inside? He inquired.

The safe house, a two-story structure with boarded-up windows and dim interior lighting, loomed ahead. Isabella had her men standing around it, awaiting her cue.

Leo gave Isabella a quick look. She held the silencer steadily in her hand and was composed.

"That's it," she whispered. "Are you prepared?"

Leo nodded and swallowed. "Yes."

She grinned. "All right, let's get started."

Marco gestured sharply, and the men shifted.

As the first guards were removed, silencers murmured in the darkness. Isabella slipped through the back door, Leo following. There was a slight sound of voices coming from the main room, and the interior smelled of sweat and stale smoke.

Leo's chest tightened. While she and Leo moved to the right, Isabella signaled for Marco to move to the left. They made their way down the hallway toward the sound of conversation after passing a kitchen with no lights. As they reached the doorway, Isabella raised three fingers.

 Three.

 Two.

 One.

 She was the first to move, entering the room with deadly precision. The first shot took a man in the chest before he could react.

 Leo fired next, hitting another before he even had a chance to reach for his weapon.

 Chaos broke out. Moretti's men scrambled for cover, returning fire, but Isabella's crew was

Outwitting them, already inside.

Bullets flew by as Leo hid behind a couch. He fired—one, two shots—when he saw one of Moretti's men grabbing for a shotgun. The man fell to the ground.

Isabella moved like a shadow across the room, her gun silent and lethal.

The fight was over in a matter of minutes.

Leo slowly stood up, his heart still pounding.

The floor was covered in corpses.

Isabella looked around and dropped her weapon. "Clean."

Marco nodded after examining the bodies. "Everything is fine."

Leo let out a sharp sigh. Another conflict. One more step into this life.

Isabella's eyes sparkled as she turned to face him. "How are you feeling?"

Leo wiped his face with his hand. "As if I'd like a drink."

She laughed. "All right. You're gaining knowledge.

---

The Cost of Blood

Just before dawn, they made their way back to the penthouse.

Leo rubbed his temples and fell onto the couch.

Isabella gave him one of the two glasses of whiskey she had poured.

"To triumph," she whispered.

Leo did not toast, but he did accept the glass. "Tonight, we killed six men."

Her forehead raised. "And?"

Leo let out a breath. "And it doesn't seem like a win."

Isabella watched him while sipping her drink. "Amore, you continue to think like an outsider."

Leo gave her a look. "What are you doing?"

She grinned. "A person who has survived."

Leo drank his whiskey, feeling a heavy burden in his chest despite the burn.

"Tonight, you made your decision," Isabella added. "You now have to live with it."

Leo reclined and gazed up at the ceiling.

He had already decided.

Furthermore, there was no turning back.

Violence had always seemed like a means to an end to Leo. It was survival in war. It was control on the streets. In Isabella's world, however, it was a completely different matter now.

It was money.

He had also made his first payment tonight.

He sat with a cigarette burning between his fingers on the penthouse balcony, the memory of the execution still fresh in his mind. Below him, the city spread out, its lights glimmering like stars. But the weight in his chest persisted despite his best efforts to disappear into the view.

The trigger had been pulled by him.

And there was no going back now.

He could hear heels clicking softly on the marble floor behind him. Isabella.

As she moved to stand next to him, she whispered, "You're thinking too much."

Leo's jaw clenched as he blew out smoke. "Hard not to."

Leaning against the railing, she observed him. "Do you feel bad about it?"

Leo flicked his cigarette's ash. "No." A pause. "But I also don't feel good about it."

Isabella's head cocked. "You'll."

Leo looked at her, examining her face. There was cold certainty, no doubt, no hesitation.

"What if I don't?" he inquired.

She gave a small smile. "Amore, you're in the wrong world."

There was silence between them.

Isabella straightened at last. "Enter now. We need to talk about business.

Leo let out a sigh and followed her inside after taking one final drag.

---

Moretti Responds

Marco was waiting inside with some of Isabella's best men. On the table was a large map of the city with red markings all over it.

"What is this?" Leo moved closer and asked.

On the south side, Marco indicated a red circle. An hour ago, one of our warehouses was struck. The location was set on fire by Moretti's men.

Leo's mouth clenched. "Deaths?"

"We lost two of our guys," Marco stated somberly. "A few more people are hurt."

Isabella maintained her composure, but Leo could see the blaze in her eyes.

"We anticipated his retaliation," she whispered.

Leo crossed his arms. "And what's the answer?"

Isabella looked from Leo to Marco and back again. "We retaliated."

Leo scowled. "How?"

Marco set a folder down on the table and slid it in his direction. "We have a place. One of Moretti's safe houses outside the city is where his men are holed up.

Leo pulled out the folder. Maps, a list of names, and surveillance photos were inside.

"We remove it," Isabella stated plainly.

Leo raised his head. "Has one eye for another?"

She grinned. "The game is played that way."

Leo let out a breath. They were planning another kill, and he had just finished processing the first one.

"Are we aware of who is inside?" He inquired.

Marco gave a nod. Six men—possibly more. primarily enforcers. No civilians.

Leo looked at the map. "When are we moving?"

"Tonight."

Leo shut the folder. Isabella's voice was free of hesitation and self-doubt.

She lived in this world.

And now he was in it.

The Attack

A few hours later, Leo was crouching behind a black SUV with a gun in his hand while the chilly night air pricked his skin.

The safe house, a two-story structure with boarded-up windows and dim interior lighting, loomed ahead. Isabella had her men standing around it, awaiting her cue.

Leo gave Isabella a quick look. She held the silencer steadily in her hand and was composed.

"That's it," she whispered. "Are you prepared?"

Leo nodded and swallowed. "Yes."

She grinned. "All right, let's get started."

Marco gestured sharply, and the men shifted.

As the first guards were removed, silencers murmured in the darkness. Isabella slipped through the back door, Leo following. There was a slight sound of voices coming from the main room, and the interior smelled of sweat and stale smoke.

Leo's heart was racing.

Isabella and Leo moved to the right, and she motioned Marco to the left. They slipped past a poorly lit kitchen and headed toward the sound of conversation down the hallway.

Isabella held up three fingers as they arrived at the doorway.

Three.

Two.

One.

She took the initiative and entered the room with deadly accuracy.

Before he could react, the first shot struck a man in the chest.

Before he could even reach for his weapon, Leo fired again, striking another.

There was anarchy.

Isabella's crew was already inside, outwitting Moretti's men as they scurried for cover and returned fire.

Bullets flew by as Leo hid behind a couch. He fired—one, two shots—when he saw one of Moretti's men grabbing for a shotgun. The man fell to the ground.

Isabella moved like a shadow across the room, her gun silent and lethal.

The fight was over in a matter of minutes.

Leo slowly stood up, his heart still pounding.

The floor was covered in corpses.

Isabella looked around and dropped her weapon. "Clean."

Marco nodded after examining the bodies. "Everything is fine."

Leo let out a sharp sigh. Another conflict. One more step into this life.

Isabella's eyes sparkled as she turned to face him. "How are you feeling?"

Leo wiped his face with his hand. "As if I'd like a drink."

She laughed. "All right. You're gaining knowledge.

---

The Cost of Blood

Just before dawn, they made their way back to the penthouse.

Leo rubbed his temples and fell onto the couch.

Isabella gave him one of the two glasses of whiskey she had poured.

"To triumph," she whispered.

Leo did not toast, but he did accept the glass. "Tonight, we killed six men."

Her forehead raised. "And?"

Leo let out a breath. "And it doesn't seem like a win."

Isabella watched him while sipping her drink. "Amore, you continue to think like an outsider."

Leo gave her a look. "What are you doing?"

She grinned. "A person who has survived."

Leo drank his whiskey, feeling a heavy burden in his chest despite the burn.

"Tonight, you made your decision," Isabella added. "You now have to live with it."

Leo reclined and gazed up at the ceiling.

He had already decided.

Furthermore, there was no turning back.

Leo sat by himself in the penthouse living room, the smell of gunpowder and blood still clinging to his skin. The ice had melted into a watered-down amber pool, but the whiskey in his glass remained unaltered. He could still hear the night's echoes, the muffled gunfire, the dying men's last gasps, and the impact of their bodies on the ground.

Isabella had apparently not been bothered and had gone to bed hours earlier. She poured herself a drink, shot him a contented look, and vanished into their bedroom as though the evening had been nothing more than a business transaction completed.

Leo couldn't get rid of it, though.

Blood had stained his hands, which were now steady.

What's the worst?

Things were beginning to feel normal.

He had hesitated the first time he had pulled the trigger. I'm sorry. He hadn't hesitated at all, though, tonight in that safe house. Like a soldier returning to the battlefield, his instincts had taken over and were directing him.

Kill or perish.

That was the world's law.

And without hesitation, he had followed it.

He rubbed his temple and inhaled slowly. Perhaps this was to be expected. Perhaps he had always been destined for this life.

But what did that make him now, if it were true?

A survivor?

Or a monster?

---

A New Objective

The morning arrived too soon.

Leo had just gotten out of bed when Isabella entered the living room wearing a stylish black pantsuit and her hair pulled back in a tight bun. She smirked as she put a new cup of coffee on the table and glanced at him.

She said, "You're brooding."

Leo wiped his face and let out a breath. "I'm not moping. Just pondering.

She swigged her espresso. "Dangerous habit."

He put his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. "What is the number of times you have done this?"

Isabella's forehead raised. "Killed?"

Leo gave a nod.

She cocked her head, as though thinking. "I stopped counting after a while."

Her response was so casual that it chilled him to the bone.

Before he could answer, Marco entered with a tablet. He had a serious expression.

"We're having trouble."

Isabella's teasing grin vanished in a flash. "What sort of issue is it?"

After setting the tablet down on the table, Marco swiped to display a picture.

Leo leaned closer. It was a surveillance photo, sufficiently clear despite its graininess. A man entering a black car while wearing dark clothing.

Who is he? Leo asked.

The response from Marco was "Alessandro Romano." "Moretti's second-in-command."

Isabella's gaze darkened. "And?"

When Marco swiped, another image came up. This time, it featured the same man talking to a woman—a stranger.

Leo frowned. "Who is she?"

Marco hesitated. "A informational resource. Ours.

A knot formed in Leo's stomach.

"Did she say anything?" Isabella asked in a tone that was cold but firm.

Marco exhaled deeply. "She has passed away."

Leo's mouth clenched.

Isabella was slow to answer. Instead, she reached for her coffee, took another sip, and set it down.

"Find him," she then said in a voice as icy as death itself.

Marco gave a nod. "Working on it already."

Isabella was studied by Leo. There was only purpose, no regret or hesitation.

One of her soldiers was dead. She would even the score now.

---

The Hunt Starts

Silently, Leo and Marco rode toward one of their informants. As they drove through alleyways and backstreets that most people ignored but that the mafia controlled like veins feeding into a heart, the city merged into the background.

They finally arrived at an old repair shop for mechanics. The sign had faded from years of use, and the metal shutters were partially closed.

After turning off the engine, Marco faced Leo.

"Are you certain you're prepared for this?"

Leo looked him in the eye. "I don't believe that question is relevant anymore."

Marco grinned. "No, it doesn't."

They went outside.

The air inside was heavy with the smell of metal and oil. A man was using a rag to wipe grease from his hands while seated behind a desk.

He tensed as he looked up and saw Marco.

"Calm down," Marco said with ease. "All we need is some information."

The man nodded slowly; his name was embroidered on his jumpsuit: Luca. "It depends on what you want."

Marco showed him the picture of Alessandro Romano on his phone.

"This individual. "Where is he?"

Luca paused. "I'm not sure."

Leo folded his arms and leaned against the desk. "Try again."

Luca took a swallow. "Look, trouble is not what I want—"

Leo interrupted him. "Then let us know what we must know."

Quiet.

Finally, Luca let out a sigh.

He has been moving around and keeping a low profile. He was staying at a club downtown called La Rosa Nera when I last heard from him.

Marco gave a nod. "That was all we required."

Luca let out a sigh of relief. "Just... exercise caution. That location is being watched by Moretti's men.

Leo grinned. "We are, too."

---

Nera La Rosa

Leo and Isabella were standing outside La Rosa Nera that evening, the neon sign softly illuminating the entrance in a red hue. 

Music throbbed through the club, and the patrons were unaware of the war that was raging outside.

Isabella's dress fit her curves like a second skin as she repositioned her earrings. "Are you prepared?"

Leo put his jacket straight. "Always."

They entered.

The air was heavy with perfume and smoke, and the music was loud. Men in fitted suits lounged in the VIP area, while couples swayed on the dance floor.

Leo looked around the room. "Observe him?"

Isabella gave the bar a subtle nod.

With a drink in one hand and a woman in the other, Alessandro Romano sat on a leather couch.

He was hard-punched by Leo.

Romano stumbled back, gripping his jaw. "You—"

Leo took hold of his collar and slammed him against the wall. "One of ours spoke with you."

Romano's teeth were stained with blood as he smiled. "And?"

Once more, Leo's fist made contact.

Laughing through the pain, Romano coughed. "You believe

that this makes a difference? Moretti is already well-versed.

Leo's hold grew firmer. "Then you are of no use."

Romano's smile wavered.

Taking his gun out, Leo pressed it to his forehead.

It was clear that Romano was afraid.

Over the trigger, Leo's finger lingered.

Then—

BANG!

The door exploded.

Moretti's men came pouring in.

Leo raised his gun and spun.

However, he was outnumbered this time.

The rifle butt swinging toward his face was the last thing he saw.

Then—

darkness.