Chapter 2 Guns, Ghosts, and a Bargain with the Devil

‎Alessandro's gun hovered in midair.

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‎Three figures blocked the exit of the tunnel - all in black, faces hidden by tactical masks, rifles aimed directly at him and Elena. One of them stepped forward, the leader by posture alone. Calm, confident, cocky.

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‎"Drop the weapon, De Luca," the voice said again. "Or I'll put a bullet through her skull."

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‎Elena didn't move. Her eyes flicked toward Alessandro - not in panic, but calculation. If she was afraid, she didn't show it.

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‎Alessandro's mind raced. No way out. No cover. One shot fired, and she'd be the first to fall.

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‎He raised his hands, slowly, deliberately. The Glock in his grip slipped from his fingers and clattered onto the stone floor.

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‎"Smart man," the masked figure said. "Now step back."

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‎Alessandro didn't move. "You're not Bratva," he said coldly.

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‎"Does it matter?"

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‎"It does to me," he replied. "Because if you're not Bratva, that means someone else sent you. Someone I didn't see coming."

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‎The man chuckled darkly. "You're slipping, De Luca."

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‎"No," Alessandro growled. "I'm calculating."

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‎In a flash, he lunged sideways - not toward the men, but toward Elena. She ducked instinctively as his body crashed into hers, driving them both behind a rusted metal cabinet along the wall.

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‎Gunfire erupted.

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‎The cabinet exploded with sparks and ricocheting metal. Dust filled the air.

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‎Alessandro drew a knife from his boot, flipped it in his palm, and waited. Footsteps approached. One... two...

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‎Then-

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‎He threw the blade.

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‎A scream. One of the men collapsed, clutching his thigh.

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‎Elena reached into her boot and drew her own gun - a matte black Sig Sauer - and fired two rounds toward the tunnel entrance. Another man dropped.

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‎Only one remained.

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‎The leader.

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‎He didn't panic. He didn't even flinch.

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‎Instead, he turned and vanished back through the tunnel, dragging his wounded partner with him.

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‎The gunfire stopped.

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‎Silence returned, heavy and pulsing.

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‎Alessandro stood, chest heaving. Blood from a grazed bullet trickled down his arm.

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‎"You carry a blade in your boot?" Elena asked, raising an eyebrow as she blew the smoke from her barrel.

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‎"You carry a Sig in heels. I'm not judging," he shot back.

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‎She cracked a smile - just a small one - but in that moment, it made the underground tunnel feel a little less like a grave.

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‎"Come on," she said. "This leads out to the old wine cellar. If we're fast, we can still beat whoever else is hunting."

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‎Alessandro grabbed his discarded gun and followed her through the narrow corridor. Dust clung to the air, mingling with the faint scent of gunpowder and sweat.

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‎"Who were they?" he asked.

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‎"Not sure," Elena said. "But they're not after money. They want me silenced."

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‎"Because of the files?"

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‎She didn't answer right away.

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‎Instead, she led him through a cracked stone archway into a hidden cellar. Rows of ancient wine barrels lined the walls, and in the far corner, a hatch opened to the surface - disguised beneath crates of Chianti.

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‎Alessandro sealed the door behind them and turned to face her fully.

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‎"Talk," he ordered. "No more games. What the hell are you mixed up in?"

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‎Elena leaned against a wine cask, brushing hair from her face. "Seven years ago, when my father was executed, he left behind more than enemies. He left proof - a ledger, hidden recordings, names. He kept track of every dirty deal your father ever made. Including the ones with foreign governments, crooked cops, and certain people even you don't know about."

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‎Alessandro narrowed his eyes. "You're saying my father was working with outsiders?"

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‎She nodded. "He sold out the Family more than once. And he blamed my father for covering it up."

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‎He processed the information slowly, carefully. It wasn't just betrayal - it was a knife in the legacy he'd killed to protect.

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‎"And you?" he asked. "Why sit in my chair? Why come back now?"

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‎"Because those files aren't safe anymore," she said. "Someone's getting close to them. And if they fall into the wrong hands-"

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‎"The whole Mafia structure collapses," Alessandro finished.

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‎Elena nodded. "Exactly."

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‎"You could've just come to me directly."

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‎"And you would've had me shot in the lobby."

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‎He didn't argue. She wasn't wrong.

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‎"Where are the files now?" he asked.

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‎Her lips curled into a faint smirk. "Safe."

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‎"Elena-"

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‎"I'll give them to you," she interrupted. "But I want something in return."

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‎Alessandro stepped closer, his expression unreadable. "You already said protection."

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‎"That was the beginning."

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‎He crossed his arms. "Then name your price."

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‎She looked him in the eye.

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‎"I want in."

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‎"In what?"

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‎"In everything," she said. "The Family. Your empire. Your decisions. I want a seat at the table. Not as a pawn. As a partner."

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‎He blinked. "You're insane."

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‎"Probably. But I'm useful. And you know it."

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‎Alessandro stared at her, heart pounding. She wasn't bluffing. She didn't come to survive. She came to conquer.

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‎Thunder rumbled above as rain began to pour outside.

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‎Finally, he spoke.

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‎"You get me those files... and you get your seat."

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‎Before Elena could respond, the hatch above them creaked open.

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‎Boots dropped into the cellar. Three men - all De Luca soldiers - rifles raised, eyes wide.

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‎"Boss!" one said. "We've been looking everywhere. Giulio's alive. Beaten, but breathing."

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‎Alessandro nodded. "Get him to the doctor. Sweep the estate. Triple guards at every entry."

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‎The soldier hesitated, eyeing Elena. "What about her?"

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‎"She's with me," Alessandro said.

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‎"Understood."

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‎The men climbed back out, disappearing into the rain.

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‎Elena turned to him, one brow raised. "'She's with me,' huh?"

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‎"Don't make me regret it."

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‎She stepped closer, her tone softer now. "You won't."

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‎Lightning cracked above them, followed by a scream - faint, but unmistakable.

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‎From somewhere in the house.

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‎Elena froze. "That voice..."

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‎"You know it?"

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‎Her voice dropped to a whisper. "That's... my mother."

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‎Alessandro's blood ran cold.

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‎"I thought she was dead," she whispered. "She disappeared the night my father was killed. I never found a trace."

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‎And then the scream came again - louder, sharper.

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‎"Elena!"