Chapter 5 Blood Oaths and Broken Deals

The rain hadn't stopped since they left the De Luca estate.

It fell in cold needles, soaking through Elena's coat as she stepped out of the Maserati and stared up at the decaying facade of the abandoned opera house. The faded letters above the archway still read Teatro di Sangue. Theater of Blood. A fitting place for what was about to unfold.

Alessandro joined her, scanning the shadows with a hand near his gun.

"You know this is a trap," he said.

She didn't look at him. "That's why we came."

They entered silently, each footstep echoing on marble cracked with time. The chandelier overhead swayed gently as if disturbed by a ghost. Rows of seats stretched before them like decaying soldiers, and the grand red curtain was torn, hanging limp from rusted rails.

Then a voice cut through the silence, slick and theatrical.

"I was beginning to think you wouldn't show."

Elena's breath caught. Luca Ferraro's voice came from somewhere above - distorted, calm, amused.

"You've lost your touch, Alessandro," Luca continued. "Ten years ago, you would've had a sniper in the rafters and poison in my wine."

Alessandro stepped forward, his voice flat. "You always liked to talk. So talk. What do you want?"

From the shadows above the stage, Luca stepped into view - dressed in black, a faint smirk on his lips, and holding something small and metal in his hand.

The encrypted drive.

The real one.

Elena tensed. "You've had it all along."

"I did," Luca said, tossing it in the air once and catching it. "But what I didn't have... was her."

He pointed to Elena.

Alessandro stepped in front of her instinctively.

"Touch her and you die."

Luca laughed. "Relax. I don't want her blood. Just her fingerprint. The files are locked - and Elena is the key. Her father made sure of that before I... removed him."

Elena's heart froze.

"You... you killed my father?"

Luca's smile widened. "I made it look like a De Luca execution. You were so quick to believe it. Rage is easier than grief, isn't it?"

Elena's hand moved to her hip - where a small blade was strapped under her coat - but Alessandro's arm gently blocked her.

Not yet.

Luca continued, walking the edge of the balcony like a performer mid-monologue.

"Your father knew too much. He was trying to clean the organization, if you can believe that. Said we had 'too much blood on our hands.' He was going to hand over the files to Interpol."

Elena's chest tightened. She remembered the way her father used to hold her hand at night, whispering stories about honor and family. Now, those stories were shattered.

"You used me," she said, voice shaking. "You started a war between us. You murdered the only decent man in this life."

"No," Luca said, lowering his voice to a chilling softness. "You murdered him... the moment you chose revenge over truth."

Then a spotlight snapped on from the balcony's edge.

A second figure appeared.

Bound. Gagged.

Chiara.

Alessandro's niece.

Blood on her temple. Her chair teetered dangerously close to the balcony's edge.

"No," Alessandro breathed. "Chiara..."

Luca raised a remote. "She lives if I get what I want."

He pointed at Elena.

"Come up. Alone. Press your finger to the drive. That's all. Do it... and no one else dies."

Alessandro took a step forward. "I'll do it. I'll give you anything. Just let her go."

Luca shook his head. "She's not the key. Elena is. And I want to hear her scream when she realizes she helped end the Mafia."

Elena's hands curled into fists. She took a step toward the stairs - but Alessandro grabbed her wrist.

"I can't let you do this."

She looked at him, eyes blazing. "This is bigger than us. He has your family. He destroyed mine. If we don't stop him here, he burns everything."

"Elena-"

"I'm not asking your permission."

She pulled free, walked toward the side door, and started climbing the narrow spiral staircase toward the upper box seats. Her footsteps echoed in sync with her racing pulse.

Each step was a choice.

Each breath, a vow.

She emerged into the upper gallery. Luca stood by the edge, holding the drive in one hand and the remote detonator in the other. Behind him, Chiara was tied to a chair, her face bruised but alive.

Elena raised her hands.

"I came," she said.

Luca held out the drive.

"Press your thumb. And no tricks."

Elena stepped forward.

Closer.

Closer still.

She took the drive.

Turned it in her hand.

And pressed her thumb against the surface.

Beep.

A green light flickered.

"Processing biometric," a cold mechanical voice said.

Then: ACCESS GRANTED.

Luca's eyes lit up. "Finally."

But Elena didn't let go.

She looked him in the eye.

"It's not the real drive."

Luca blinked.

"What?"

"This one's a duplicate," she said. "The real drive? I destroyed it two hours ago."

Luca lunged - but she had already stepped back, twisting the drive in her hand until it snapped in two.

The light died.

Luca roared, raising the remote.

But suddenly - a gunshot cracked through the air.

BANG!

The remote flew from his hand. Blood bloomed on his shoulder.

From the shadows behind the curtain, Alessandro appeared, gun still smoking.

"I said," he growled, "touch her, and you die."

But it wasn't over yet.

Luca stumbled back, wounded but smiling.

"You're too late," he said, coughing. "I made copies. And you'll never guess who has them."

Alessandro's jaw clenched.

"Who?"

Before Luca could answer, a second voice echoed from a speaker overhead - one neither of them recognized.

A woman's voice. Cold. Smooth. European.

"Hello, Alessandro. Hello, Elena. I'm afraid you've both been playing checkers... on my chessboard."

Alessandro froze.

Elena's blood ran cold.

Luca's face - for the first time - lost its smugness.

The voice continued:

"Luca was never the mastermind. I am. And your war? It's just the beginning."