His Dark Angel

Chapter 7

Nyx's POV

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the manicured lawns surrounding the Bonavero estate as I watched from my perch. I’d found a spot atop a sturdy oak tree on the wooded ridge overlooking the property, the dense foliage providing excellent cover. Binoculars pressed to my eyes, I scanned the compound below. It wasn't just a house; it was a fortress.

A high, wrought-iron fence, likely electrified, encircled the entire perimeter. Guards patrolled in pairs, their movements predictable but thorough. Cameras, sleek and dark, swiveled silently from strategic points on the main building and along the fence line. Security was tight, professional. Which made Antonio's k********g even more puzzling.

How had Roberto's goons gotten in and out with the kid? Insider, Rage sneered in my ming. Almost certainly. Someone on Bonavero’s payroll had betrayed him. Good to know. Trust was a luxury few in their world could afford.

My focus shifted as a convoy of sleek black vehicles rolled through the main gate – an SUV followed by three imposing Jeeps. They pulled up to the imposing front entrance of the main house. Doors opened, and men emerged, dressed in sharp, dark suits that couldn't quite conceal the hard lines of their bodies or the weapons likely holstered beneath. In the center, flanked by the two men I recognized from Roberto's restaurant – Marcus, the stoic one, and Lucas, the smirker – stood Aiden Bonavero himself.

Even from this distance, his presence was commanding. Tall, impeccably dressed, radiating an aura of controlled power. He moved with a predator's grace, scanning his surroundings with an intensity that felt palpable even through the binoculars. Then, as if sensing my gaze, his head lifted slightly, his eyes seeming to sweep the ridge where I hid. I instinctively froze, lowering the binoculars slightly. His eyes… stormy gray, cold as chips of ice, yet holding a depth that hinted at banked fires beneath.

They were eyes that had seen too much, inflicted too much. Eyes unnervingly like the reflection I sometimes saw in my own mirror. A shiver, unwelcome and unfamiliar, traced a path down my spine. Dangerous, Night whispered in my head. Attractive, Rage’s more reckless thought countered immediately. I pushed them both away. Attraction was a complication I didn't need, especially not to a man like him. He disappeared inside with his entourage, leaving me with a lingering sense of unease.

John's intel confirmed the exchange was moved up to tomorrow. Noon. Bonavero was desperate, willing to deal. But Roberto didn't have the kid anymore. Which meant tomorrow's meeting was a powder keg waiting for a spark. My plan had been simple: return Antonio. Now? Now I had to crash that meeting, expose Roberto's lie, and ensure Antonio wasn't caught in the inevitable explosion.

To do that effectively, I needed to know Bonavero's play. What was his strategy? How many men would he bring? What contingencies did he have? Walking in blind was suicide.

That meant getting inside the fortress. Tonight. Bugging his office, his study – wherever he’d be finalizing his plans – seemed the most direct route to the information I needed. It was risky, bordering on insane, but necessary. I couldn’t just bring Antonio back here without finding the mole.

Waiting until true darkness fell felt like an eternity. The guards changed shifts, their routines momentarily disrupted. The security lights hummed to life, casting pools of artificial daylight across the grounds but leaving deep pockets of shadow. Perfect. I slid down from the tree, landing silently on the soft earth, and began my approach, moving through the woods bordering the estate like a ghost.

Reaching the perimeter fence required patience, timing the patrols, staying low.

The cameras were the real challenge, their sweeps methodical. But John’s intel had included schematics, likely outdated but better than nothing. I found a section near the back, partially obscured by overgrown shrubbery, where a camera's blind spot coincided almost perfectly with the guards' patrol turning point. Almost. It would take speed and nerve.

I waited, heart drumming a steady rhythm against my ribs, adrenaline sharpening my senses. The patrol passed. The camera began its slow sweep away.

Now.

I sprinted from the treeline, a blur of black against the deepening twilight. Reaching the fence, I didn't hesitate, leaping, finding purchase on the ornate ironwork, and scrambling upwards. The top bristled with deterrents, but a gap, barely wide enough, offered passage. I swung myself over, dropping silently into the shadows on the other side just as the camera completed its arc, its unblinking eye passing over the empty space where I’d been seconds before.

Inside. Step one complete. Now for the house itself. Keeping to the shadows, skirting the pools of light, I moved towards the main building. More guards here, closer together. Getting to the back, where John’s schematics indicated the study or office might be, required another distraction. A large garage stood slightly detached from the house.

Perfect.

A quick jog, staying low, brought me to its side door. Unlocked. Sloppy. Inside, rows of luxury cars gleamed faintly. I located the alarm panel on a nearby sedan, smashed it hard with the butt of my knife, and melted back into the shadows as the car erupted in a piercing shriek. Lights flickered on in the main house, guards shouted, running towards the source of the noise. Exactly as planned.

While they were occupied, I sprinted to the rear of the main building, finding the wall section corresponding to the likely office location. Drainpipes and ornate stonework offered handholds. Scaling the wall was physically demanding but familiar territory. Up to the second floor, finding the target window. Locked, naturally. A thin tension wrench and pick from a concealed pocket in my jacket made short work of the simple lock. The window slid open silently. I slipped inside, landing cat-footed on a plush rug.

The office was dark, smelling faintly of expensive cologne, old paper, and power. Moonlight filtered through the window, illuminating a massive desk, leather chairs, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Moving quickly, silently, I planted a small, sophisticated listening device beneath the lip of the desk, another behind a heavily framed painting on the wall. Enough to capture any conversations happening here.

I didn't linger, didn't search for anything else. Get in, plant the bugs, get out. That was the mission. Copying video files or planting more bugs felt like overreach, increasing the risk of detection for information I didn't immediately need.

Retreating was the reverse process – out the window, down the wall, using the lingering confusion from the car alarm to mask my movement back towards the fence. Finding the blind spot again, waiting for the patrol, then scaling the fence and dropping back into the woods outside the perimeter felt like releasing a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. Mission accomplished. Bonavero's plans for tomorrow will soon be mine.

The drive back to Bella's boutique felt different, charged with anticipation. I parked the bike in the usual alley spot and slipped through the back door Ernie left unlocked for me. Bella was in the office, sketching furiously, while Antonio sat on the chaise lounge, looking utterly transformed.

Bella had worked wonders. His dark hair was hidden beneath a shaggy blond wig, cut boyishly short. Contact lenses changed his striking blue eyes to a nondescript brown. Dressed in slightly worn overalls and a faded t-shirt, he looked like a completely different kid – anonymous, easily overlooked. He looked up as I entered, offering a small, tentative smile.

"Successful recon?" Bella asked, not looking up from her sketchpad.

"Productive," I confirmed, sinking onto the armchair opposite Antonio. "Got what I needed for tomorrow."

"Good. Ernie put some feelers out regarding Roberto's known associates, trying to get a sense of who might still be loyal after yesterday's... incident," she said, finally looking up. "No guarantees, but better than nothing."

Her expression was serious. "You sure about this, Nyx? Crashing a meet between Bonavero and Roberto?"

"It's necessary. Roberto doesn't have the kid. Someone needs to point that out before things go sideways and Antonio gets hurt. And there’s a mole in his house."

Bella sighed, running a hand through her fiery hair.

"Just... be careful, chica. You know I've got your back, always. Ernie too." She glanced towards the corner where the big man sat, ever watchful. Her loyalty, her unquestioning support… it was a rare gift.

I remembered finding her, broken and bleeding in an alley years ago, she’d been targeted by privileged f***s who thought the owned everyone. Helping her hadn't just been about justice; it had been about giving her a second chance.

"I know. Thanks, Bella," I said quietly. "Antonio stays here with you and Ernie tomorrow. He doesn't need to see this."

He looked up from the comic book Bella had given him. "But-"

"No buts, kid," I cut him off gently but firmly. "This part's not for kids. You stay here where it's safe. Bella will take care of you. Deal?"

He hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Okay. Deal."

As Bella started gathering snacks for Antonio, I leaned back, closing my eyes for a moment. Tomorrow. Noon. It was going to be b****y. It was going to be dangerous. A familiar coldness settled over me, pushing aside the lingering warmth of Bella's friendship.

Time to let the sharper edges take over. Time to let Rage and Night have their turn.

They were better suited for what came next.