GUARDED BY MY POSSESSIVE MAFIA BROTHERS

Chapter 11: The Traitor in the Flames

The match struck the gasoline.

Fire raced across the hood of the ruined car.

“No!”

I pulled against the seat belt until the strap cut into my chest. The De Santis guard stepped away from the window with Antonio’s cassette in his hand.

I knew his face.

His name was Rocco. He had worked for our family for more than ten years. He had driven me to school, stood outside my birthday parties, and once carried me home after I twisted my ankle.

Now he watched the flames spread toward the leaking fuel.

“Rocco, help us!”

“I’m sorry, Miss Elena.”

“You don’t look sorry.”

His expression remained empty. “Some secrets are worth more than loyalty.”

He turned and ran toward the truck.

Smoke entered through the broken windshield. Dante was still unconscious beside me, blood covering the side of his face.

I slapped his cheek.

“Dante, wake up.”

He didn’t move.

The fire reached the front tire. Heat poured into the car as I searched blindly for the seat-belt release.

It was jammed.

“Dante!”

A faint groan escaped him.

His eyes opened, unfocused.

“Elena?”

“The car is on fire.”

He looked toward the hood and immediately reached for my seat belt.

“Where is the cassette?”

“Rocco took it.”

“Rocco?”

“He caused the crash.”

Dante pulled at the buckle, but the crushed metal around my seat trapped it.

“Stop moving,” he ordered.

“Don’t tell me to stop moving while we’re about to explode!”

He searched beneath his jacket and removed a small knife. His hand trembled as he cut through the belt.

The moment it snapped, I fell against him.

“Get out,” he said.

“What about you?”

“My door is blocked. Use your window.”

I climbed toward the broken opening, but Dante suddenly cried out. A piece of metal had pierced his leg beneath the dashboard.

“You’re trapped.”

“Elena, get out.”

“No.”

“That is an order.”

“You said I’m your sister, not your soldier.”

The flames spread beneath the car.

I grabbed the metal bar and pulled. Dante’s face tightened with pain, but it barely moved.

Headlights appeared behind us.

For one second, I thought Rocco had returned to finish the job.

Then Luca’s car stopped across the road.

He jumped out before the vehicle had completely halted. Noah followed him, while Marco remained in the back seat with Sofia.

“Get Elena out!” Dante shouted.

Luca reached through my shattered window.

“Take my hand, Ellie.”

“Dante is trapped.”

“The fuel tank could explode.”

“I’m not leaving him.”

Luca looked past me at his brother. “Of course she learned stubbornness from you.”

Noah opened the rear door and climbed halfway inside. Together, he and Dante pushed against the damaged dashboard.

“Now!” Noah shouted.

I pulled the metal away from Dante’s leg. He dragged himself free, and Luca lifted me through the window.

Noah climbed out after us. Dante tried to follow, but his injured leg gave way.

Luca returned and seized his arm.

The four of us had barely reached the roadside when the car exploded.

The force threw us onto the ground.

For several seconds, I heard nothing except a high ringing sound. Burning pieces of metal fell across the road.

Dante lay beside me, his arm still wrapped around my waist.

“Elena?”

“I’m here.”

He touched my face as if he needed proof.

Luca pushed himself upright. “Is everyone alive?”

“No thanks to Rocco,” I said.

Marco struggled out of the second car, one hand pressed against his wounded shoulder.

“Rocco Bellini?”

“You know him?” Noah asked.

“I recruited him.”

Dante’s gaze became lethal. “Then you’ll tell me everything about him.”

“He came from one of our southern crews. His father served Antonio.”

“Apparently loyalty isn’t inherited,” Luca muttered.

Marco stared at the burning wreckage. “Rocco wasn’t supposed to be here tonight. He was assigned to protect the mansion.”

“He was one of the guards Vincent showed us on the video,” I said. “He was kneeling in the security room.”

“He wanted us to think he was a victim,” Dante replied.

Sofia limped toward the road. “If he took Antonio’s confession, he has been waiting for that cassette longer than Vincent has.”

I looked at her. “Why?”

“Because Rocco’s father was with Antonio the night he died.”

Marco’s expression changed.

“What aren’t you telling us?” Dante demanded.

Sofia leaned against the vehicle.

“Carlo Bellini was Antonio’s driver. The official report said he died in the crash with him.”

“But he didn’t?” I asked.

“No. Antonio was alone in the car.”

“Then where was Carlo?”

“No one knew.”

Marco lowered his weapon. “I saw the body.”

“You saw a burned body wearing Carlo’s ring,” Sofia corrected. “Vincent arranged the identification.”

A cold realization settled over me.

“Carlo helped kill our father.”

Dante looked toward the direction Rocco had escaped.

“And his son has spent ten years inside our home.”

I remembered every locked door Rocco had opened, every family conversation he might have overheard, and every security route he

knew.

“He knows everything about us.”

“Yes,” Dante said. “Which means the mansion is no longer safe.”

The distant sound of engines interrupted him.

Noah checked the road. “More vehicles are coming.”

“Vincent’s men?” Luca asked.

“Possibly.”

Dante tried to stand, but pain forced him back to one knee.

I put his arm around my shoulders.

“You can barely walk.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“You always say that.”

“Because it is usually true.”

We entered Luca’s vehicle. Marco and Sofia moved into a second car with the remaining guards.

Luca drove while Noah sat in the passenger seat. Dante and I occupied the back.

Blood soaked the fabric around Dante’s leg.

“Let me see it,” I said.

“I’m fine.”

“If you lie to me one more time, I’ll push you out of the car.”

Luca glanced at us through the mirror. “She really is family.”

Dante reluctantly moved his hand. The metal had left a deep cut along his thigh, but the bleeding was slowing.

I tore a strip from the bottom of my dress and tied it around the wound.

“You should be angry with me,” he said quietly.

“I am.”

“Then why are you helping me?”

“Because anger isn’t the same as wanting you dead.”

His gaze lowered to my hands.

“I told Vincent where Isabella was.”

“You were fourteen.”

“That doesn’t change what happened.”

“No. It doesn’t.”

The words hurt him, but I refused to soften them.

“You made a terrible decision,” I continued. “Then you spent my entire life deciding what I was allowed to know because you were afraid I would hate you.”

“I was afraid you would leave.”

“You treated me like a prisoner to prevent that.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

His eyes met mine.

“I know that every lock I placed around you looked like protection to me and punishment to you.”

For once, he didn’t defend himself.

That made it harder to remain furious.

Noah turned in his seat. “We need somewhere Rocco doesn’t know.”

“Father Gabriel’s monastery,” I suggested.

Dante shook his head. “Vincent knows about the tunnels.”

“What about my apartment?” Noah asked.

“Rocco followed Elena there before,” Luca replied.

Sofia’s voice came through the radio from the second car.

“There is a safe house near Lake Corvino. Isabella used it before Alessandra was born.”

“Vincent will know it,” Marco said.

“No. Antonio purchased it under another name.”

Dante took the radio. “Who else knows the location?”

“Only me.”

“That isn’t reassuring.”

“You can bleed on the roadside if you prefer.”

Luca smiled despite the tension. “I like her.”

“You like everyone who annoys me,” Dante said.

“It’s a large community.”

We changed direction toward the lake.

After twenty minutes, the city lights disappeared behind us. Luca turned onto an unmarked road surrounded by trees. A small house stood near the dark water.

The building looked abandoned, but Sofia produced a key from beneath a stone near the entrance.

Inside, white sheets covered the furniture. Dust floated through the cold air.

“This is where Isabella met Antonio,” Sofia said.

I examined a photograph on the fireplace. It showed my mother beside the lake, one hand resting over her pregnant stomach.

“She looks happy.”

“She was,” Sofia answered. “For a little while.”

Marco sat at the kitchen table while Noah treated his shoulder. Luca searched the rooms for weapons or hidden devices.

I cleaned Dante’s wound with supplies from an old cabinet.

He watched me in silence.

“What?” I asked.

“You have her hands.”

“Isabella’s?”

He nodded. “She treated a cut on my arm once. I fell from a horse.”

“You met her?”

“Several times.”

“Did you hate her for being with our father?”

“I wanted to.”

“But?”

“She was kind to Luca and me. That made everything more complicated.”

I finished wrapping his leg.

“Did our father know you told Vincent where she was?”

“Yes.”

“What did he do?”

Dante’s voice became distant.

“He struck me. It was the only time he ever did. Then he left to find Isabella.”

“And three days later, he died.”

“Yes.”

Before I could respond, Luca entered carrying a small radio and several papers.

“I found something behind the fireplace.”

He placed an old ledger on the table. The pages contained dates, payments, and initials.

Marco studied it.

“These are payments from Valenti accounts.”

“To whom?” I asked.

“Judges, police officers, guards.” His finger stopped near the bottom of the page. “And someone identified only as D.”

Everyone looked at Dante.

He gave a bitter laugh. “Convenient.”

The final payment had been made the day before Isabella died.

D — location confirmed.

I felt my chest tighten.

Dante had admitted giving Vincent the location. But beneath that entry was another payment made three days later.

C.B. — vehicle completed.

“Carlo Bellini,” Sofia said. “He sabotaged Antonio’s car.”

“Then Rocco’s father killed ours,” Luca replied.

Noah examined the page. “There’s a more recent entry.”

The ink was newer than the others.

R.B. — cassette retrieval. Deliver to D.

I looked at Dante. “D?”

“It isn’t me.”

“Then who is it?”

A phone rang inside the room.

It wasn’t mine.

The sound came from beneath the kitchen table. Luca found a small black phone taped to the wood.

Sofia stepped back. “That wasn’t here before.”

Dante answered and activated the speaker.

Rocco’s voice filled the house.

“You found the ledger.”

“Where are you?” Dante demanded.

“On my way to deliver Antonio’s confession.”

“To Vincent?”

Rocco laughed.

“Vincent is only a wounded old man hiding from the consequences of his obsession. He was never the true enemy.”

“Who are you working for?” I asked.

His voice changed when he heard me.

“You should ask Dante why every clue points to him.”

“I’m asking you.”

“The man I serve has controlled both families for more than twenty years. Vincent believed he ruled the Valentis. Antonio believed he ruled the De Santis family. Both were wrong.”

“Give us a name,” Luca said.

“I will give Elena something better—a choice.”

The phone vibrated. A photograph appeared on the screen.

Father Gabriel sat tied to a chair. Blood covered his face. A digital clock behind him displayed thirty minutes.

My stomach dropped.

“Where is he?”

“Bring the ledger to Saint Orso Cemetery. Elena comes alone.”

“No,” Dante said.

“If I see Dante, Luca, Noah, Marco, Sofia, or any De Santis guard, Father Gabriel dies.”

“You already have the cassette,” I said. “Why do you need the ledger?”

“Because together they reveal the identity of the man who ordered Antonio’s death.”

“Who is D?”

Rocco was silent for a moment.

Then he answered.

“The eldest De Santis son.”

Dante seized the phone.

“I did not kill my father.”

“I wasn’t talking about you.”

The call ended.

No one moved.

Luca’s face slowly lost its color.

“There is no other eldest son,” I said.

Marco looked at Dante, then at Luca.

“Yes,” he whispered. “There is.”

Dante stood despite his injured leg.

“Marco, don’t.”

But Marco kept his eyes on me.

“Before Dante was born, Antonio had another son. A child the family erased from every record after his mother disappeared.”

My heart began pounding.

“What was his name?”

A shadow moved beyond the window.

Then every light in the safe house went out.

In the darkness, a man’s voice came from the doorway.

“Dominic.”

A gun clicked.

“And I have waited thirty-five years for my family to remember me.”