Chapter 5 The Art of Unraveling

The estate was too quiet.

Not peaceful...just quiet in the way that made Killian's instincts crawl. A silence born not of calm but of secrets hanging in the walls. Secrets that watched.

Killian stood in the courtyard, the same place where gunfire had shattered the air two nights ago. The blood had been cleaned. Glass replaced. Furniture reset.

But the wound lingered.

He closed his eyes and replayed the moment in his head. The way the first shot cracked the silence. The direction it came from. The reaction times. His own movements. Sienna's scream.

He crouched beside a bullet mark etched into the marble column.

This wasn't an amateur's job. Whoever fired the shot knew exactly where the cameras were...and avoided them. He'd known how long it would take Killian to react, where the guards were stationed, and exactly how far to miss so the warning was loud, not lethal.

It was tactical. Professional. Intimate.

He rose, jaw tight, and walked back into the house.

Security Room – Lower East Wing

Lucien sat hunched over three monitors, rewinding footage for the hundredth time. When Killian entered, he didn't look up.

"Nothing new?"

Lucien shook his head. "Not yet. Whoever breached the perimeter either disabled the back-end feed or had inside help. I've already questioned the guards on post that night."

Killian pulled a chair next to him.

"Let's go over it again."

Lucien sighed but clicked play.

"This is 1:13 AM. Normal. Nothing out of place. Then this-see this glitch? It's barely noticeable. A 3.7-second delay. Same time the infrared feed cut for five seconds. Night vision blackout."

Killian leaned closer.

"Replay it again. Zoom in. South courtyard gate."

Lucien did.

This time, Killian spotted it...a flicker in the shadows. A reflection too sharp. A glint that shouldn't be there.

"There. Someone's using tactical optic lenses."

Lucien raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"

Killian's voice dropped. "No one in this house uses military-grade optics. Except me."

Which meant: someone had been watching. Planning. They knew the layout better than some of Marco's own men.

Killian's Office – Private Study

The next four hours were a blur of blueprints, logs, and timestamps. Killian reviewed the rotation sheets of the estate guards. Checked all incoming and outgoing deliveries. Every visitor from the last fourteen days.

Twelve men had been scheduled to patrol the outer perimeter that night. Three called in sick. One was reassigned to the front drive last-minute.

Too coincidental.

He flagged two names: Rico Castano and Tomas Delgado.

Both were mid-level muscle. Trusted enough to carry sidearms. Not trusted enough to be given access to family quarters.

Except both had signed off on an unscheduled equipment delivery from the back gate the night of the shooting...a delivery no one else authorized.

Killian picked up his phone. "Lucien. I need Castano and Delgado brought in. Quietly."

Lucien didn't hesitate. "Alive?"

"For now."

Interrogation Room – 3:00 AM

Rico Castano sweated through his shirt.

He wasn't the strongest of the bunch...more bark than bite. He'd always been the type to laugh too loud, drink too much, talk too fast.

Tonight, he was silent. Until Killian dropped a folder on the table.

"This is your signed log from the night of the attack. You approved a delivery from 'Armadex Supplies.' Except Armadex hasn't operated in this region for two years."

Rico blinked. "It...it was on the manifest, man. I didn't think..."

"That's the problem," Killian said coldly. "You didn't think."

Rico's hands trembled. "Look, I just followed orders. Delgado said the Don approved it. Swore up and down it was a rush job. Some bulletproof glass shipment."

"Delgado said that?"

He nodded quickly. "Yeah. He was in charge of the back gate that night. Said the Don didn't want it on record 'cause it came from overseas."

Killian studied him for a moment, then motioned for Lucien.

"Lock him in a cell. No one talks to him. No phone calls."

Lucien nodded. "What about Delgado?"

"He's next."

Killian's Office – 4:45 AM

Delgado was nowhere to be found.

His phone went straight to voicemail. His car was abandoned three blocks from the estate. His apartment? Emptied.

Killian stood over the opened closet, where even the hangers were gone. A clean sweep. No signs of struggle.

"He ran," Lucien said behind him.

Killian's face was blank. "No. He was taken. Either to be silenced or rewarded."

Lucien frowned. "You think this goes higher?"

Killian nodded slowly. "Much higher."

Private Meeting with Marco D'Angelo – 6:10 AM

Marco wasn't pleased to be woken up before sunrise.

He stood at the head of the long dining table in his robe, swirling dark espresso in a small ceramic cup. His expression was unreadable.

Killian laid out everything...the breach, the altered delivery manifest, Rico's confession, and Delgado's disappearance.

Marco listened in silence.

"So, what are you saying?" he asked at last. "That my men can't be trusted?"

"I'm saying one of your men has already been bought. Maybe more."

Marco's jaw clenched. "And Sienna? What if that bullet had hit her?"

Killian looked him straight in the eye. "That's why I'm not sleeping until I find out who gave the order. And who opened the door."

Marco was quiet for a moment. Then he nodded.

"You have full access. Pull files. Shake trees. Burn down every shadow if you have to. But Killian-"

He met his gaze sharply.

"Make sure you don't fuck this up"

Killian's Quarters – Later That Day

His desk was chaos. Files, photos, footage, cross-referenced lists of all staff hired in the last 18 months.

A red marker circled one name: Delgado's cousin, Enzo Milan. Recently promoted to kitchen staff. No known record. Came with fake references.

Killian pinched the bridge of his nose.

This wasn't just a random hit. It was a calculated breach. Someone had infiltrated multiple layers of the estate's infrastructure. Security. Staff. Logistics.

And if Delgado was the point of entry, someone else was pulling strings from above.

He opened a drawer and pulled out an old flash drive. One he hadn't used in months. It contained a list of ex-military personnel that had defected from Eastern Europe...a list he once kept as part of his mercenary files.

One name stood out now.

Viktor Sokolov.

Explosives expert. Long-range sniper. Disappeared five years ago. Rumored to be working private contracts for cartel families and syndicates too careful to use in-house killers.

A cold chill swept Killian's spine.

Sokolov never missed.

Which meant... that bullet two nights ago... It wasn't a warning. It was a message. One meant for him.

Outside the Estate – Midnight

Killian stood beneath the full moon, phone pressed to his ear.

"Don Marco. I need access to the family's old alliance records. The sealed ones."

There was a pause.

"You think this goes back to one of the old pacts?"

"I think someone with history is cashing in."

Another pause. Then Marco's voice came back, colder.

"There's only one name on that list I ever regretted shaking hands with."

"Who?"

Marco's voice was gravel and poison.

"Don Emilio Revas. The Butcher of Ciudad Blanca."

Killian's eyes narrowed.

"Didn't he die in prison?"

"Apparently," Marco said. "But rumors say his son, Cristian Revas, took over. Quietly. He was ten years old when Emilio went inside. He'd be twenty-five now."

Killian was already pulling up a photo on his phone. A grainy shot from an old article in Spain.

Then he froze.

Because standing next to Cristian Revas in the photo...was Tomas Delgado.

Smiling. Arms crossed. Wearing the same watch he always wore at the estate.

And suddenly, everything clicked.

The breach. The inside help. The silence.

This wasn't just an attack.

It was a vendetta.