Six Months Contract With The Mafia God

”It will take time,” Lorenzo said. ”He’s had hours of head start. He could be anywhere by now.”

”He’s not anywhere,” Antonio said. ”He’s moving south. Away from Rome. Away from established territories. He’s looking for somewhere your reach is weaker and mine doesn’t extend.”

”The coast,” Lorenzo said, understanding. ”He’s going to the coast.”

”Probably,” Antonio confirmed. ”Which means we start with every property, every contact, every safe house that exists on the coast south of Rome. We narrow the search radius. We find him.”

”And when we do?” Lorenzo asked.

”Then we decide together what happens next,” Antonio said.

”Understood,” Lorenzo said.

”I’ll be in contact,” Antonio said. And Lorenzo?”

”Yes?” Lorenzo asked.

”Your daughter chose Dante,” Antonio said. ”But that doesn’t mean she made a good choice. It just means she was vulnerable and he exploited that vulnerability. We’re going to deal with the man who did that. What happens to Isabella after is up to her.”

The line went dead.

***

Antonio sat in his private study, looking out at the Rome nightline.

He’d just set in motion operations that his son knew nothing about.

It was a calculated risk.

But Lorenzo was right about one thing: Dante had proven he was more capable than they’d initially assessed. And a man like that couldn’t be allowed to operate freely in Rome.

Antonio picked up his phone and dialed a number on his phone.

”I need everything on Dante Romano’s movements in the last two hours,” Antonio said when Derick answered. ”I need to know every direction he could have traveled. I need to know every property he owns or has access to. And I need this information within six hours.”

”Yes, sir,” Derick responded. ”Consider it done.”

Antonio ended the call and settled back in his chair.

***

POV: ISABELLA

The sun was just beginning to rise over the Mediterranean as the SUV turned down a narrow coastal road.

Isabella had been dozing against Dante’s shoulder, but she stirred awake as the car slowed, as they turned onto a private drive lined with cypress trees.

”We’re here,” Dante said softly, and there was something almost tender in his voice.

The villa emerged from the morning mist like something from a dream.

It was perched on a cliff overlooking the sea, modern architecture blended with classical Italian style, all clean lines and open spaces and floor-to-ceiling windows that seemed to dissolve the boundary between inside and outside.

The Mediterranean stretched below them, vast and blue and absolutely beautiful.

Dante helped her out of the car, his hand steady on her lower back. His operative drove the SUV toward a garage hidden behind the villa, disappearing from view.

For the first time in hours....maybe for the first time since she’d walked through the eastern gate of her father’s estate, Isabella felt something like peace settle over her.

”It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

”It’s ours,” Dante said. ”For as long as we need it.”

Dante led her through the villa.

The main living space was enormous...open concept, with the living room flowing into the kitchen and dining area. Every wall seemed to be a window overlooking the sea. The sunrise painted everything in shades of amber and rose gold.

”This room,” Dante said, gesturing to the living space, ”is our sanctuary. We can see anyone approaching from kilometers away. The beach below is private. The cliffs make access difficult for anyone who doesn’t know exactly where to go.”

He led her deeper into the villa...bedrooms, bathrooms, a media room, a library, a kitchen that looked like it had never been used.

Everything was clean and prepared and waiting.

”How long have you owned this place?” Isabella asked.

”Five years,” Dante said. ”I bought it as insurance. Insurance that I’d always have a place to disappear if necessary. I never thought I’d use it like this.

They ended up in the master bedroom...a massive space with the bed facing a wall of windows overlooking the sea. The morning light filled everything, and Isabella understood why Dante had chosen this place. It was beautiful and looked so isolated.

Dante pulled her close and kissed her....slow and deep and filled with the kind of relief that came from surviving something dangerous and coming out the other side with what mattered most.

”You’re safe,” he said against her mouth. ”I promised you that. You’re safe.”

Isabella held onto him and tried to believe it.

***

After Dante showered and fell asleep....exhaustion from the adrenaline finally catching up with him, Isabella found herself alone on the master balcony.

The sun was fully up now, the Mediterranean glittering in the morning light. The world felt peaceful and perfect and exactly like what she’d imagined when she’d made the decision to leave with Dante.

She reached out and gripped the balcony railing, trying to absorb the sensation of safety, of freedom, of finally being somewhere her father couldn’t reach.

And that’s when she felt it.

A tremor in her hands.

Subtle. Barely noticeable. But there.

Isabella stared at her fingers wrapped around the metal railing and watched them shake.

Just slightly. Just enough to notice if she was paying attention.

She released the railing and pressed her palms flat against her thighs, and the tremor was still there...a fine vibration running through her hands into her wrists.

She closed her eyes.

No. No, this couldn’t be happening.

She was three days without her medication.

And now her body was beginning to rebel.

She knew these symptoms. She’d experienced them before, those times when she’d miscounted her pills or when a prescription refill had been delayed. The tremors. The anxiety that climbed too fast. The skin sensitivity. The jaw clenching that happened when her body started screaming for the medication.

She pressed her forehead against the cool glass of the balcony door and forced herself to breathe.

It’s just anxiety, she told herself, using the same words she’d been telling herself for eight years. It’s just the anxiety disorder. It always gets like this when I skip doses.

But even as she thought it, she understood the truth with absolute clarity.

This wasn’t anxiety disorder. This was withdrawal.