Undercover Vows

Two

Matteo

I hadn’t studied Elena properly before tonight, not really. There had been no need to—up until today.

From my little observations, she had always been in the background, often behind a desktop, taking records upon records and then reporting to Lorenzo. A blonde-haired, sharp-dressed accountant with quiet eyes and a polite smile, whose olive skin I barely noticed beyond a passing glance.

But now, standing in the bloodstained VIP lounge, her chest rising and falling with adrenaline, a gun still clenched in her shaking hands, I could see the fear that she was trying so hard to mask with confidence, and she almost did, almost.

But I saw her clearly, and I didn’t f*****g like what I saw.

“Where did you learn to shoot like that?” My voice was steady, but the weight of suspicion curled around my words.

Elena’s wide, dark eyes turned to me, and for a second or two, she had suddenly gone numb. In a bid to recollect her words, she quickly masked whatever flicker of panic had surfaced there. Instead, she let out a slow breath, shaking off the tremor of fear.

“My brother,” she said, meeting my gaze with dead-on confidence.“He was a cop so he taught me self-defense.”

“Bullshit”, I whispered under my breath, more to myself.

A cop’s little sister learning how to handle a gun was one thing. The clean, precise way she had taken down a man, without hesitation, without missing—was something else entirely.

I took a slow step toward her, noting the way she tensed but didn’t step back.

She was daring. I'll give her that.

“I don’t buy it.” My voice was quiet now, low enough that only she could hear me. “Self-defense is one thing. Taking a kill shot in the middle of a crossfire? That’s something else.”

Elena’s lips pressed together, forming a thin line. Her fingers gripped the gun even tighter as she slowly lowered it to her side.

“What would you have me say, you Matteo?” she said, frustration apparent in her voice. "That I should have let myself get killed?”

I held her gaze, studying her. She wasn’t completely lying, but she wasn’t telling me the whole truth, either. My gut told me there was more to her than the sharp, figuring accountant everyone thought she was. And I intended to find out exactly what that was.

But before I could press her further on the issue, the heavy doors of the VIP lounge slammed open.

Don Salvatore stormed in, his face covered in rage. His tailored black suit gave off an immaculate glow, in sharp contrast to the anger burning in his dark eyes which made him look like a man on the edge of war.

Two of his guards flanked him, placing their hands on the holsters of the guns in their side pockets.

The room, still reeking of chaos, gunpowder and blood, fell silent.

“Who let this happen?” my father demanded, his voice cutting sharply through the tension like a blade. “Who let these bastards walk into my goddamn casino and start shooting?”

No one answered.

One of the dead bodies still lay on the ground, his cold blood pooling beneath him, hence, seeping into the fine Italian carpet as the thick scent of death clung to the air.

Salvatore’s gaze swept across the room before finally landing on Elena.

And just like that—suddenly, the weight of the world shifted onto her shoulders.

The accountant. The newbie. The easiest target.

“It’s her,” a sharp voice cut through the deafening silence.

I turned my head sharply as the singular word escaped from my mouth, “Lucia”.

She stood a few feet away with dark curls pulled into a tight ponytail. Her emerald-green dress accentuated her curves nicely, her manicured nails dug into her crossed arms as she glared at Elena.

“She’s new here," Lucia continued, smiling in satisfaction. "She’s been handling the records. And now, money’s missing.”

“How convenient,” she mocked.

Elena’s head snapped towards her with flashing eyes. “Okay, I think there's been a mix-up here—”

Lucia smirked as she replied, “I’m dead serious. You’re the only thing that’s changed, and now the books don’t add up. "And tonight—an ambush?” She scoffed. “Looks like a rat got too greedy.”

The accusation hit the room like a lit match in a room full of gasoline.

Every single bit of Lucia’s allegations made sense. That was the only logical explanation. Elena did it.

I noticed how Elena stiffened. And for the first time since all this started, I saw real panic in her expression.

“Don Salvatore, I didn't take the money and I certainly didn't lay the ambush,” she said, her voice steady but urgent. “I don’t know who took the damn money, but I swear to you, it wasn’t me.”

Instantly, my expression hardened.

“Then tell me who did,” my father continued.

Elena opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Words failed her because she didn’t know.

And that was enough to seal her fate.

I clenched my jaw as I turned to Elena. The weight of my father’s fury filled the room. Lucia’s smug voice echoed in my ears, as she kept going on and on. But I wasn’t looking at her anymore. My gaze had locked onto Elena's.

She wasn’t pleading with words, but I could see it—the silent pleas in her gaze, wide, desperate, searching.

She wasn’t looking at my father. She wasn’t looking at Lucia. She was looking at me.

Help me.

I had seen fear before. I had seen men break under pressure, their gazes darting, their hands shaking. But Elena didn’t flinch.

In this moment, she held my stare, unblinking, her lips slightly parted as if she wanted to defend herself but knew it wouldn’t matter anyway. The decision had already been made.

My father’s voice boomed, demanding justice. Lucia’s smirk widened.

But I stood frozen, caught between what I was supposed to believe and what I saw with my own eyes—no, what I knew deep down, was the truth.

If Elena was guilty, then why did her eyes portray so much innocence? And why the hell did it bother me so much?

A slow, dreadful silence filled the room.

Then, my father turned to me. His eyes were cold, his command absolute, without faltering.“Matteo.”

I met his gaze, already knowing what was coming.

“Take her outside and put a bullet straight through her head.”

The room was silent again.

Elena’s breath hitched, her eyes widening in fear, real fear as she looked at me.

The order had been given. The decision was final.

And now, I had to decide.

Kill her, or disobey my father.

And sincerely, I wasn’t sure which would be worse.