Chapter 8 First Blood

BELLA'S POV

Three months!

Three months since I'd walked out of Dante's penthouse with divorce papers and a gun.

I have changed a lot.

Ninety days of transforming from the girl who cried at sad movies into someone who could pull a trigger without flinching. Months of training is about to be tested.

I was about to find out if the transformation was complete.

"They're here," Tommaso said through the earpiece. I shifted uncomfortably in my squatting position. I have been like this for thirty minutes, laying ambush.

"Five vehicles. Twenty men, maybe more. Vitale colors."

I checked my gun for the hundredth time. Loaded. Safety off. Hand steady. I mentally ticker the boxes Enzo had taught me.

Good.

We'd been expecting this, waiting for them to walk into the trap we laid. Lorenzo had been quiet for weeks after his message. Too quiet. Now he was making his move, hitting our supply route outside Naples, far away from the warehouse.

Big mistake. We intentionally diverted their attention here to buy more time.

"Positions," I ordered into the comm. I need to get used to using a commanding tone. Everyone depends on my commands.

My team scattered, taking cover behind shipping containers. Fifteen of us against twenty-plus of them.

The math wasn't great, but I'd learned something these past months.

I numeri non avevano importanza.

Numbers didn't matter when you fought like you had nothing to lose.

And I had nothing left to lose. Absolutely nothing, not even my life.

The vehicles screeched to a stop. It's show time.

Doors flew open. Armed men poured out, weapons raised.

"Cani sovrani!" one shouted in Italian. "Lorenzo sends his regards!"

They opened fire.

Bullets tore through metal. Glass shattered. The sound echoed through the peaceful night. The night exploded into chaos.

I ducked behind a container, adrenaline spiking through my veins. My heart hammered, but my hands stayed steady. Now is the time to show what I've been taught.

Enzo had taught me well.

I rose slightly from my protective barrier, aimed at one of the brightly dressed men, and fired.

The first shot went wide. I didn't feel familiar with the training ground. This was real.

Fuck.

The second shot found flesh. The man dropped, clutching his shoulder, cursing in Italian as he scurried away.

Not a kill. But close.

"MOVE UP!" Tommaso roared into the earpiece.

We pushed forward, moving as practice. Coordinated and precise.

We were certain they weren't expecting any actual resistance. Lorenzo probably thought we'd scatter like we did at the warehouse.

He was dead wrong.

I fired again. Each shot was more confident than the last. Yes!

A man rushed from the left. Too fast.

The training kicked in in a split second.

I pivoted, squeezed the trigger.

The bullet caught him in the chest.

He staggered, falling forward.

Didn't get back up.

Wow! Just like that?

I stood there, gun still raised, staring at the body.

My first kill.

A strange surge of cold satisfaction rose in my heart. My first kill!

I seem lost in my trance.

"ISABELLA!" Tommaso grabbed my arm. "Focus!" he yelled, snapping me back into reality.

Right. I need to fight.

The fight raged. Shots echoed into the night. So far none of my men were killed. We were winning, pushing them back. Lorenzo's men weren't prepared for the Sovereign daughter who'd learned to fight back. I'm certain he sent his weakest men.

I walked around a container. I found out Lucia was injured. A bullet wound on her shoulder. Looking around, I sighted a figure in the dark, a gun pointed towards Lucia.

I didn't think twice. Didn't even hesitate.

Three shots. Center mass.

He dropped. Great!

I felt nothing but ice in my veins. I guess I have built the resistance needed to handle a gun.

The remaining Vitale soldiers retreated, abandoning some bodies. Engines roared. They fled into the night.

Silence fell, broken only by ringing ears and heavy breathing. We made them run.

"Check for wounded," Tommaso ordered.

I lowered my gun slowly into its case in my waist. I looked at my hands.

No shaking. No trembling.

Just the steady hands of someone who'd crossed a line she could never uncross.

Lucia appeared beside me. "You okay, principessa?"

Of course!

"I should ask you." I rushed over. Your hand is bleeding. Lucia smiled sweetly. "Yes, piccolo." She raised her free hand to brush my hair.

"I killed them." My voice sounded distant, looking into her eyes. "Two men. I killed them."

"Sì." She studied my face. "And?"

"And nothing." I looked up. "I feel nothing."

"Good." Lucia smiled. "Feeling nothing keeps you alive." She tapped my hand lightly.

Maybe. Or maybe it just proved I was already dead inside.

The girl who married Dante believing in love and happy endings was gone.

In her place stood someone who could kill without hesitation.

Without regret.

I was becoming my father's daughter.

Il Diavolo's true heir. I have become my father's true daughter. Lucia tells me that often.

My phone buzzed. Unknown number.

My blood chilled.

"Principessa?" Tommaso approached carefully. "We need to move. Police will be here soon."

"Give me a minute."

He left.

I walked around the container, looking at the abandoned dead body.

It was this man. I saw him that day during the attack at the warehouse.

I knew I had seen him somewhere. I can't place it, but I know I did. Taking a few pictures, I left the scene. Tommaso and Lucia were in the car that was supposed to convey me back to the Chrysalis.

Lucia's wound was attended to as it wasn't that serious. After fifty minutes, we were back to the safe house.

I kept on staring at the pictures, then it clicked.

He works with Marco.

My heart jumped. Not again!

Not another evidence against Dante!