CHAPTER 5 THE TRAITOR

AUTHORS NOTE : ITS A LONG CHAPTER GUYS. 

I went back to my room, staring blankly at the ceiling. It wasn't safe here anymore. Even though I was going back to my old life in a few days, I had to keep the evidence safe. Sleep didn't come easy that night.

A few days later, the teacher I was filling in for returned, and I left St. Mary's, heading back home. But even there, I couldn't shake the thoughts of the code I had been trying to crack. When I finally decoded it, my blood ran cold. This was bigger than anything I should have gotten myself into. It was too late to regret it now.

Meanwhile, in a hotel ensuite, Antonio leaned against the balcony railing, the city lights casting long shadows across his sharp features. His perfectly tailored white shirt was undone at the top, revealing a glimpse of the tattoos on his collarbone.

"Did you have fun playing around with my name?" Luca asked from the doorway, amusement flickering in his sharp green eyes.

Antonio smirked, rolling up his sleeves. "I did, actually. At least she had the guts to look me in the eyes."

Luca, lean but deadly, dressed in his usual black, stepped further into the room. He held a file in his hand. "I ran the background check you asked for. Sera. Only child. Parents died when she was seven. She worked as an accountant but quit two years ago for personal reasons."

Antonio nodded, taking the information in. He picked up his lighter, flicking it open and closed absently. "What about the deal with Thakur?"

"They requested a meeting near the port at six in the morning. I can handle it," Luca offered.

"No," Antonio said, lighting his cigarette. "I'll go. I want you to look into St. Mary's Orphanage. If they're involved in anything against our code, it'll be a problem. I don't need the elders making a scene later."

Luca nodded. "Understood."

The next morning

Antonio arrived at the port, stepping out of the car with the calculated ease of a man who had walked into danger more times than he could count. He was dressed in black, his fitted shirt hugging his powerful frame. The early morning mist clung to the air, blending with the smoke from his cigar.

Varun Thakur was already there, with his men. He extended a hand with a forced smile. "Welcome, Antonio. I hope you're enjoying your stay."

Antonio shook his hand but didn't return the smile. "Let's get straight to the point." He took a long drag of his cigar. "We won't be selling to you anymore."

Varun's face twisted with anger. "Why?"

Antonio exhaled smoke, eyes cold. ""Simple. We agreed on exclusivity. No cross-selling. Yet, you got weapons from Vento Rosso. You broke the deal. You lost the business." He smirked.

"You calling me stupid?" Varun snapped.

Antonio let out a low chuckle. "I'm saying you lost the deal. Stupidity is your own problem."

Varun's expression twisted with fury. "You think you've won?" He leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "I had a spy in your crew this whole time."

A gunshot. Sharp, deafening. Antonio staggered back, the impact slamming into his chest.

For a split second, everything seemed too slow. Luca was already moving, his gun raised, shooting Adrian—the traitor—before he could fire again. Chaos erupted. Gunfire filled the air, shouts and cries of pain echoing across the docks. Varun's men fell one by one, blood pooling on the cold pavement.

Varun himself was struggling, wounded in the shoulder, but he still held his ground, sneering. "What now, Antonio?"

Antonio, still standing, unbuttoned his shirt slightly, revealing the bulletproof vest beneath. He wiped the blood off his chin, then aimed his gun.

"You should've known," he murmured, voice laced with amusement. "This business is built on trust and instinct. If I can't sniff out a rat, I wouldn't be standing here."

A single shot.

Thakur's body hit the ground.

Luca rushed over. "Are you alright? You got shot."

Antonio chuckled, tossing his ruined cigar aside. "Had a good vest." He smirked, thinking of a certain woman. "She's interesting."

In a café

 I pushed a folder across the table. "These are the documents I mentioned, Cyril. You're the only one I trust to get them to the that person."

Cyril, a man with tired eyes and a kind face, nodded. "I'll take care of it. But you—be careful, Sera."

"I will."

Or at least, I thought I would.

A few days later, I received a call.

"We need to discuss this in person." The voice on the other end was sharp, serious.

The meeting location was remote, too quiet. A place where no one would hear you scream.

I should have walked away the moment I felt something was off.

"Are you Sera?" the man asked when I arrived.

"Yes. Did you receive the file?"

"I did." He studied me, his gaze cold and calculating. "But who are you? How do you know me?"

I hesitated.

His lips curled into a cruel smile. "It doesn't matter."

Men stepped out of the shadows, surrounding me.

I smirked. "I don't think they're enough to kill me."

"Let's see then."

The man in front of me smirked, signaling to his men. In an instant, I was surrounded—four men, all bigger than me, radiating arrogance. They thought this would be easy.

The first one lunged, aiming to grab my arm. Big mistake. I twisted my body at the last second, ducking under his reach and slamming my elbow into his ribs. The satisfying crack of bone made him stagger, gasping for breath.

Another man swung a punch toward my face. I caught his wrist mid-air, using his momentum to yank him forward, sending my knee straight into his stomach. He groaned, doubling over, and I finished him off with a sharp kick to the jaw.

The remaining two hesitated.

"She fights," one of them muttered, wiping sweat from his brow.

I smirked. "You figured that out just now?"

The moment of hesitation was all I needed. I launched forward, my movements precise and ruthless. A sharp kick to the knee of the third man sent him sprawling onto the floor, howling in pain. Before he could recover, I stomped on his hand, hearing fingers break under my heel.

The last man pulled out a knife. Ah, finally—someone smart enough to bring a weapon.

He lunged at me, the blade slicing through the air. I dodged just in time, the sharp edge grazing my arm but barely breaking the skin. Using his overextension to my advantage, I grabbed his wrist, twisting it with a sharp jerk. The knife clattered to the floor, and before he could react, I spun behind him, locking my arm around his throat in a tight chokehold.

He struggled, gasping, clawing at my arm, but his strength was useless against a well-executed hold. His body went limp within seconds, and I let him drop.

Silence.

I exhaled slowly, rolling my shoulders. I hadn't fought like that in a while. It felt… good.

But my moment of triumph didn't last long. A sharp pain exploded at the back of my head and everything went blank.

When I woke up, my hands were tied. Blood dripped from my temple. They had beaten me, furious that I had humiliated them in combat. It wasn't just business—it was their ego. I could feel it in the way they tortured me

"What did you tell Antonio? what did he know"

I didn't answer.

Through the haze of pain, I overheard something that made my heart stop.

Thakur's clan had fight with La Mano Nera. Varun was dead. Antonio had killed him.

I let out a breathless laugh. So that was it. That was another reason they want me dead as they thought I was the reason for Varun's death. Shadows flickered across the cold walls—silent figures watching me. I took a slow breath, steadying myself. Pain was something I had learned to endure a long time ago.

"You lasted longer than I expected," the man in front of me mused. His voice was smooth, almost amused, but laced with something far more dangerous.

I lifted my head, blinking away the dizziness. The man before me was dressed in a dark suit, his presence commanding. Sharp jaw, slicked-back hair, and calculating eyes that reminded me of a vulture waiting for its prey to collapse. This was Akhil Sharma, one of Varun Thakur's key men.

His lips curled into a smirk. "Do you know how much trouble you've caused?"

I tilted my head. "Do you know how much I don't care?"

The slap came fast. My head snapped to the side, the sting burning my cheek. I tasted blood.

He sighed, shaking his head. "Still so mouthy. You think this is a joke?"

I laughed, the sound hoarse but defiant. "No, I just think you're predictable."

His smirk faltered, and for a second, I saw it—the flicker of doubt.

"You should have died in that alley," he said, pacing around me. "Instead, you were stupid enough to send evidence to the wrong people. And now, you're sitting here, at my mercy. So, TRY BEGGING Sera."

That was my chance.He was close enough."I will kill you before that" and the rest you know.