MIO PECCATO ( My Sin)

Chapter 5

Storm came out of his study looking like he had been through hell. His face was dark and stormy, his gray eyes red from not sleeping all night. The Citadel’s cameras, secret messages, and questioning three low-level guards had given him nothing. No solid lead on who leaked the meeting spot with Godfather Rossi. The Russians had hit too clean, too exact. Someone inside the Black Heart Syndicate had betrayed them.

He rolled his shoulders, the graze wound on his arm pulling tight under a fresh black shirt. A maid had knocked quietly an hour ago to say breakfast was ready. Only then did he leave the room, where maps and lists of possible traitors still covered his desk.

The dining hall was very quiet, with black marble floors reflecting the dim red-gold lights. Storm sat down at the head of the long table. The empty chairs reminded him of the allies who weren't there. He hadn’t eaten since the ambush. Hunger didn’t matter as much as his anger.

Soft footsteps came closer. Sophia came down the short staircase from the private quarters, helping Dove by the arm. The new wife moved slowly, careful with each step. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying for hours. The black bathrobe Sophia had given her was wrapped tight around her body, but it couldn’t hide the slight wince or how she kept looking down.

Storm didn’t say anything at first. He just watched them come over. Dove’s hollow green eyes looked up for a second before dropping again. “Good morning,” she said in a small, weak voice.

He nodded once, short. “Sit.”

Sophia helped Dove into the chair to Storm’s right, then started serving. Plates of eggs, bacon, fresh fruit, and strong black coffee appeared. Storm ate calmly, cutting through the food with precision like how he cut through his enemies. Dove picked at her plate, moving things around but not eating much. The silence between them was heavy, broken only by the sound of silverware.

Just as Sophia turned to leave, Storm’s low voice stopped her. “You. From now on, you are my wife's personal maid. Attend to my wife well. Otherwise!!!”

Sophia’s eyes widened a bit, but she bowed her head smoothly. “Thank you, Don Storm. I’m honored.” She gave Dove a small, encouraging smile before leaving the dining room, her G-string disappearing between her ass cheeks as she walked.

Silence came back, even heavier now. Storm put down his fork, about to speak—maybe to talk about the tears in her eyes or what happened last night—when noise came from the Grand Hall. Loud voices, laughter mixed with tension, boots on the marble.

He stopped eating. Slowly, he stood up, his tall frame casting a long shadow. Dove waited a moment, not sure what to do, then pushed back her chair and followed from a distance, her steps hurting and careful. She held the bathrobe tighter around her small body.

In the Grand Hall, five people had just come in, greeted by several captains with backslaps and relieved talk. They were Storm’s elite shadow team—the ones he trusted with the most dangerous jobs when he couldn’t go himself. All of them were covered in dust and some bloodstains, just back from a risky operation deep in enemy territory.

Leading them was Lyka. She wore tight black bum shorts that hugged her athletic ass, a simple bra covered loosely by an unbuttoned jacket, and black canvas shoes. Her dark hair was tied in a messy ponytail, and a sniper rifle case was slung over her shoulder. At twenty-seven, she moved with deadly grace. The other four—Lucas, Lucius, Romano, and Sanchez—were broad-shouldered fighters, with scarred knuckles and sharp eyes from years of fighting up close.

Lyka saw Storm and threw herself at him right away, wrapping her arms around his strong body. “Don! The mission went well. We took out the DeLuca warehouse and got back the stolen shipment. No loose ends.”

She pulled back, grinning hard, then looked around the hall. “Where’s Marco? He promised to spar with me when we got back.”

The mood changed. Storm’s face got even darker. He put a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Lyka… Marco was shot yesterday. During the meeting with Godfather Rossi. The Russians ambushed us. Bullet hit near his heart. He’s in the ICU. Stable for now, but… it’s bad.”

Lyka’s face fell apart. The confident sniper stepped back, her color draining. “No… that’s not possible. Marco’s too stubborn to—” She bumped straight into Dove, who had been standing quietly in the corner shadows, watching everything.

Lyka turned fast, surprised to see the small, fragile girl in the bathrobe. Dove’s puffy eyes and delicate face made her look totally out of place among the tough killers. “Who the hell is this?” Lyka asked, her voice sharp with grief and suspicion.

Storm looked at Dove, his gray eyes hard to read. “This is Dove. My new wife.”

A heavy silence covered the Grand Hall. The captains looked at each other. Lyka’s eyes got wide, going back and forth between Storm and the small girl who looked barely old enough for this world of blood. “Your wife? From the orphanage? You finally did it.” There was shock and something protective in her voice—Lyka had grown up around the Citadel, brought in young as a sharp-shooting talent. She and Marco had been close since they were kids, more than friends, though never officially married.

Before anyone could say more, Dove excused herself quietly, saying something about needing rest. She slipped away toward the hallway, limping a little. No one stopped her.

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In the quiet corridor leading back to her personal room, Dove’s whole attitude changed the moment she was alone. She reached into the pocket of her bathrobe and pulled out a sleek, encrypted phone—one hidden from the Citadel’s main cameras. Her fingers moved fast on the screen.

The message she had sent two days earlier stared back at her:

“Storm and brother leaving Citadel tonight for meeting with Rossi at neutral site. Coordinates attached. Make it count. – Silencer.”

A wicked smile curved her lips, changing the fragile, hollow-eyed girl into something much more dangerous. Her green eyes shone with cold satisfaction. The Russians had done it perfectly. Marco fighting for his life was extra payback for the brother of the man who ordered the raid that killed her parents years ago. Revenge felt better when it came piece by piece.

She deleted the message thread smoothly, the smile staying as she hid the phone again. The mask of the weak, obedient wife came back right away as footsteps came closer—Sophia coming to check on her.