Bound by the Mafia

CHAPTER FOUR: BELOW THE SURFACE

“What Exactly Did You Find?”

"Say that again," Alessandro said, his tone clipped.

Giovanni handed him the flashlight. “We found a sealed hatch under the east tunnel. Locked. Reinforced. Not on any blueprint.”

“I don’t like secrets in my own house,” Alessandro muttered.

“Neither do I,” I added.

He turned to me, jaw tightening. “You weren’t invited to this conversation.”

“You brought me into this world. You don’t get to shut me out when things get inconvenient.”

Giovanni arched an eyebrow. “She’s got a point.”

Alessandro said nothing. Just handed me a second flashlight and motioned toward the hallway.

The tunnel was colder than I expected. Damp stone walls ran tight around us, the smell of earth and mold thickening with each step.

“How far does this go?” I asked.

“Beneath the house, under the cliff. A remnant from World War II. My grandfather used it to smuggle guns out of Sicily.”

Charming.

We reached the hatch. Rusted but solid. Bolted shut. Giovanni bent down, twisted a lever hidden behind a stone panel.

With a groan, the door cracked open.

A stench hit us like a slap. Rot. Oil. And something else—faint, coppery.

Blood.

Giovanni stepped in first, gun drawn. I followed Alessandro, heart pounding.

Inside was a small chamber. A table, a single chair... and ropes stained dark brown.

Alessandro’s eyes narrowed. He touched the wall, eyes scanning for meaning.

“I didn’t build this,” he said quietly. “And I never used it.”

“Then who did?” I asked.

A single lightbulb flickered on overhead.

Isabella stood in the doorway.

And in her hand—my bracelet. The one I’d lost the first day here.

“I believe this belongs to you,” she said.

“She Lied to Me… You planted it," Alessandro said, voice low but vibrating with fury.

Isabella’s smile didn’t even c***k. “It was already there. I just... found it.”

I stepped forward. “And decided to play puppeteer?”

She dropped the bracelet at my feet. “Don’t flatter yourself. I was just curious how far you'd follow him.”

Alessandro crossed the room in two strides, backing her into the stone wall. “If I find out you’ve been keeping secrets—”

“You’ll what?” she said softly. “Kill me like you killed Pietro? Or maybe like Clara.”

His hand twitched. Just barely.

“You don’t get to say her name,” he growled.

Isabella leaned in. “She trusted you. And you buried her six feet under your guilt.”

The air went deadly still.

I stepped between them.

“Enough,” I snapped. “This pissing contest won’t change what we saw. Someone used this place. Recently. And not to store wine.”

Alessandro looked past me, to Giovanni.

“Seal it. No one goes down here until I say.”

“What about her?” Giovanni asked, nodding to Isabella.

Alessandro’s stare was colder than steel. “She stays where I can see her.”

As we turned to leave, Isabella’s voice floated after us.

“You can chain me to the gates, Ale. But she’s the one with the key.”

I didn’t look back.

But I felt her smirk all the way up the tunnel.

"He would’ve let me die."

Giovanni didn’t answer right away. He leaned against the stone railing beside me, arms folded, eyes on the cliffs below.

“I saw it in his face,” I said. “When Isabella mentioned Clara. He shut down.”

“Alessandro doesn’t do well with ghosts,” Giovanni said. “They crowd the room, even when no one speaks.”

I turned to him. “Was Clara like me?”

He tilted his head. “She was nothing like you. She didn’t ask questions. Didn’t argue. She trusted blindly. That’s what got her killed.”

“And what’ll get me killed?” I asked.

He looked at me then, eyes softer than I expected. “You make him feel. That’s dangerous.”

“For me or for him?”

“Both.”

I let that settle between us. Then, “You’ve known him a long time.”

“Since I got out of the army. Saved my life once. I’ve repaid it more than he knows.”

“Does he deserve your loyalty?”

Giovanni sighed. “Deserving’s never been the point. We don’t survive this world because of who we are. We survive in spite of it.”

He pushed off the railing.

“And Valeria?”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful who you drag into the light. Some things grow better in the dark.”

He walked off.

And for the first time, I wasn’t sure if he was warning me about Alessandro… or myself.

“Let Me See the Real You”

"What are you doing here?" I asked, startled by Alessandro’s presence in my room.

He stood by the window, hands in his pockets, half-shadowed by moonlight.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he said. “Too many questions.”

“Funny. I’ve had too many answers lately. Most of them lies.”

He turned. “You think I’m the villain.”

“I think you like the power people give you when they’re afraid.”

He stepped closer. “And what do you give me, Valeria?”

I stood. “Headaches. Nightmares. Resistance.”

“Wrong,” he said. “You give me hesitation.”

I froze. “That’s not a compliment.”

“No. It’s a warning.”

His voice had dropped, gravel-smooth, full of something unspoken.

“I can’t protect you if I don’t know where you stand.”

“I don’t stand for anyone,” I whispered. “Not anymore.”

A long pause. Then—

“Good,” he said. “Because I need someone who won’t flinch.”

I laughed bitterly. “You want me to be your weapon?”

“No,” he said, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “I want you to be the only thing in this house no one can control. Including me.”

His touch lingered. Not rough. Not soft.

His mouth was inches from mine.

But neither of us moved.

Because we both heard it.

The click of a safety.

The door burst open.

Three masked men. Guns drawn. Eyes wild.

“Ricci!” one barked. “Down!”

Alessandro shoved me hard.

Gunshots exploded into the room.

Glass shattered.

Blood hit the wall.

And someone screamed.

But it wasn’t me.