Chapter Two: The Enemy’s Son
946 Words
Nico
2:16 AM. Palermo slept, but my mind didn’t.
The De Luca estate faded behind us as I guided my matte-black motorbike through the winding streets. Elena clung to me, her arms tight around my torso, her cheek resting against my back. She hadn’t spoken since we left the gala, and she didn’t need to. I could feel the storm brewing inside her, mirroring my own.
I brought us to a halt on a hill overlooking the harbor. The city shimmered below, oblivious to the chaos creeping toward it. I killed the engine, letting silence fill the night air.
“Why here?” she asked, voice quiet.
I stepped off the bike. “This is where I used to sleep. Before your grandfather found me.”
Elena followed, her heels clicking on the gravel. “You never talk about that time.”
“There’s nothing to say,” I replied. “Just hunger, pain… and waiting.”
“Waiting for what?”
I looked at her. “A reason to survive.”
She looked away. That silence again—dense, full of unspoken things. I could almost hear the questions on her tongue. But she didn’t ask. Not yet.
My phone buzzed. Unknown number.
I know who you are, bastard. You’ll never be one of them. – A.
Adriano Caruso.
My chest tightened. I read it twice before locking the screen.
“You okay?” Elena asked, stepping closer.
“Just business,” I said.
I didn’t want her involved in this. Not until I could be sure what he knew. Or how far he’d go.
But deep down, I already knew the answer.
Earlier that night, Adriano stood in his father’s penthouse, the city spread out below like a playground waiting to burn. The gala footage had just come in.
He took the photo handed to me. Elena Moretti. And him—Nico. Dressed like royalty, but still just a mutt in silk.
“He’s De Luca’s guard dog,” his man said.
I smirked. “He’s more than that. I saw the way he looked at her.”
I didn’t need to pull the trigger yet. No. I’d take my time.
And I’d make Nico wish he’d stayed in the gutter.
***
The morning sun streamed across the marble dining room. Elena sipped coffee, skimming headlines on my tablet.
*Nico De Luca: From Stray to Syndicate Shadow – Palermo Daily.*
Elena scoffed. “They love to speculate about you.”
I sat across from me in a crisp white shirt, scrolling through security reports. Focused. Distant.
My phone buzzed again. I read the message, jaw tightening, and stood abruptly.
“Nico?”
“Stay here,” I said without looking at her.
“Nico—what’s going on?”
“Please, Elena. Just stay here.”
And I left.
The warehouse on the outskirts was cold and damp. Gino was already waiting beside a black SUV.
“You got something for me?” I asked.
He handed me a file. “Your mystery texter? He’s not bluffing. Caruso’s been sniffing around your background.”
“There is no background,” I said. “Nothing before De Luca.”
“Exactly. That’s what makes you a target.”
I opened the file. Burned police records. Blurry photographs. Fragments of a name.
“They’re trying to erase me,” I muttered.
Gino gave me a long look. “You sure they won’t find anything?”
I didn’t answer.
Because I wasn’t sure at all.
Elena
The garden had never felt so quiet.
I paced, my phone clutched in hand. No calls from Nico. No messages.
Then I heard footsteps.
When I turned, my stomach dropped.
Adriano Caruso stood just feet away, wearing a tailored coat and a smile too charming to trust.
“What are you doing here?” I snapped.
“Just wanted to meet the girl who’s got the street prince wrapped around her finger.”
“You’re trespassing.”
“And you’re trusting the wrong man.”
I crossed my arms. “Leave. Now.”
He stepped closer. “He’ll destroy you. Just like his kind did to your father.”
I froze. “What did you just say?”
“Ask your grandfather,” he said. “Ask who really ordered the hit on Don Moretti.”
Before I could react, Nico appeared from the shadows, eyes blazing.
“You need to leave,” he said darkly.
Adriano raised his hands in mock surrender. “Touchy, aren’t we?”
“Elena, go inside.”
“No,” I whispered. “What’s he talking about?”
Adriano smiled. “Secrets always find the light.”
“Leave,” Nico said again.
Adriano backed away, his final glance lingering on me. “We’ll talk again, principessa.”
I turned to Nico as soon as Adriano disappeared.
“What did he mean about my father?”
“He’s trying to manipulate you.”
“Is it true?”
His silence cut deeper than an answer.
“Then find out,” I said. “Because if my grandfather had anything to do with my father’s death, I need to know.”
“I’ll get the truth. I promise.”
But even as he said it, I saw something in his eyes.
Like he already knew the truth.
**
Nico sat alone at the pier later that night, sea breeze cold against my skin. His phone buzzed.
Another message from Gino.
_The lawyer Elena’s meeting? Caruso’s plant._
He cursed under my breath. Adriano was already pulling strings, twisting her doubt into something sharper.
He needed to get to her before he did.
But time was slipping away.
- Writer
