Chapter 9 Threats
Dante's office smelled faintly of cigar smoke. He leaned against the edge of the massive desk, fingers drumming lightly.
Matteo stepped in, carrying a folder thick with reports, his expression calm.
“You requested for me,” Matteo said, placing the folder on the desk.
Dante’s gray eyes scanned him briefly. “I want an update regarding our shipment, the information reaching me is not adding up.” He cleared his throat, suppressing his anger.
Matteo opened the folder, tapping the first sheet. “Shipments. The last three we dispatched to our northern contacts, they didn’t arrive.”
Dante let out a chuckle that wasn't a laugh, “Those goods were worth millions of dollars. What the hell happened?” He questioned, demanding answers.
“Tracking indicates they never left the warehouse. Whoever intercepted them knew the layout, the schedule, someone on the inside.” Matteo replied, standing firmly, keeping eye contact with Dante.
Dante’s jaw clenched. “Inside. Who?”
“That’s the problem,” Matteo admitted. “We have nothing concrete yet. Security footage shows nothing unusual. Access logs don’t indicate any anomalies. But the timing, the precision… someone is feeding them information.”
“And how is that supposed to help me recover the losses. I want answers.” Dante screamed.
“I get that you are angry, but we have searched and we are still searching but we haven't gotten a lead.”
Dante’s gaze narrowed, his mind already running through possibilities. “There’s another variable, someone loyal, pretending to be a soldier.”
Matteo’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Could be. But nothing directly ties anyone in the crew.”
“Professional or not, there are cracks in every operation. Everyone leaves a trace, I want every ledger, every shipment record, cross-checked for anomalies. Every contact, every courier. I want patterns, Matteo. Even the smallest deviation.” Dante said his voice sounding more like a command.
Matteo nodded. “Already started. But the problem is subtle. Whoever’s orchestrating this is patient.”
Dante turned toward the window, the city lights reflected in his storm-gray eyes.
Matteo flipping the page added, “Intelligence on De Luca himself is thin. Few confirmed sightings, mostly rumors from street contacts. If he’s moving, he’s doing it through intermediaries.”
“Shit,” Dante shouted, pacing slowly. “We can’t afford to act rashly.”
Matteo leaned against the desk, tapping a pen against his folder. “About the warehouse,” he continued. “We’ve tightened surveillance. Additional guards, more cameras, multiple contingencies. If they try again, they won’t get far.
Matteo paused, glancing at Dante, who didn't give him a reply. “That aside, there's a new gang which have started making quite a name for themselves, the boss identity is anonymous, they are called Mandro-”
“And what does that have to do with me?” Dante asked.
“They have been hitting our suppliers, trying to destabilize shipments. I suspect they will be present at the party.”
Dante stopped his pacing. “Tonight?”
“Yes,” Matteo said, flipping to another sheet. “The event brings out potential contacts. Their men will move in small numbers, trying to gather information.
“I'm sure you know what to do.”
“Yes, we will have eyes on everyone; staffs, guests, suppliers. No one leaves unchecked.”
Dante’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Good. And the men?”
“All positioned. Over fifty total, discreetly. Security tight, but subtle.
“Any sign of interference, Matteo, I want to know immediately.” Dante emphasized strictly.
---
Isabella stood before the full-length mirror, glancing at her reflection. The evening gown lay folded on the chaise, shimmering black silk catching the dim light of the dressing room. The housekeeper, Rosa, moved with practiced efficiency, smoothing the fabric and ensuring every seam sat perfectly.
“Sit, dear,” the woman instructed gently, motioning to the vanity chair. “We don’t want wrinkles before you even step into the room.”
Isabella obeyed, exhaling slowly, though her heart still fluttered. She allowed the housekeeper to lift the gown, brushing it against her skin. The silk felt cool, almost foreign, against her warmth.
“You look… beautiful, dear,” Rosa murmured, fastening the back of the dress. “Remember, confidence is as important as the dress. You must hold your head high, everyone will watch. They will not look away.”
Isabella tried to smile, but tension clung to her shoulders. “I’m not sure I belong there,” she whispered, voice barely audible. “All those people, their world isn’t mine.”
The housekeeper shook her head gently. “Doesn’t matter whose world it is. Tonight, you make your own place in it.” She adjusted Isabella’s hair, tucking stray strands behind her ears. “Dante, he admires fire. Don’t hide yours.”
“I don't care what he admires, he brought me here as a bargain and nothing more.” Isabella's mind wondered else where while she spoke. “ I miss home badly, my family. I don't even know how my mum is or whether my brother has gotten into another trouble but here I am living in a fancy house, going to a lavish party and wearing an expensive gown, which I'm sure cost more than all the money I have worked for combined.” Isabella poured out in frustration.
“I know it's hard but think about the reason you did what you did. Is it worth it?
“Yes.” Isabella said unconsciously as she bit her lip. “Thank you. You are the only friendly person I have seen around since I was brought here.”
“Shoes,” the housekeeper said with a smile plastered on her face, holding up delicate black heels. “One step at a time. Do not stumble, not for anyone.”
As Isabella slipped her feet into the shoes, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror again. The reflection wasn’t just a girl forced into someone else’s world. It was a girl surviving, maneuvering, learning. A girl who might, one day, take control of more than just her own fate.
The housekeeper stepped back, smoothing the skirt one last time. “There. Ready. Go with your head high, dear. Tonight… you are untouchable.”
Isabella nodded, taking a deep breath. She was about to step into a world where power and danger walked hand in hand. And she had to be ready.
