Page 24 of Claimed by the Enemy (Moretti Bratva #2)

Chapter Twenty

Sophie

I check the slip number twice, but there’s no yacht. No Dom. Just dark water lapping against concrete and the distant sound of traffic from the city.

My phone buzzes with a text from Dom: Running late. Be there soon.

But something feels wrong. Dom’s messages are usually more detailed, more personal. This feels… distant.

“Excuse me.” I approach a man working on a nearby boat, coiling rope with practiced efficiency. “Was there a yacht here earlier? A big one?”

He looks up, squinting in the harbor lights. “Yeah, about an hour ago. Nice boat. Left in kind of a hurry, though.”

“Left? Did you see which direction?”

“North, toward the sound. But, lady, if you’re supposed to meet someone, they might not be coming back tonight.”

My blood turns cold. “Why not?”

“Because there was some kind of commotion. Heard what sounded like gunshots, then the boat took off like a bat out of hell.”

Gunshots. Dom.

I’m already dialing his number, but it goes straight to voicemail. Then I try texting: Where are you? What happened?

No response.

“The boat,” I ask the worker, “did you see who was on it?”

“Few guys in dark clothes. One older guy who seemed to be in charge. And your friend, I guess, though he didn’t look too happy about the situation.”

Uncle Enzo. It has to be.

“Thank you,” I tell the worker, already running back toward my car.

I drive through the harbor area like a woman possessed, checking every marina, every dock, anywhere a yacht might anchor for a private conversation. My hands shake on the steering wheel as worst-case scenarios play through my mind.

What if Uncle Enzo decided Dom was too dangerous to let live? What if this was never about getting answers, but about eliminating the threat Dom represents?

What if I’m too late?

At the fourth marina, I spot a familiar figure leaning against a black sedan. Raff. He’s on his phone, pacing back and forth like he’s arguing with someone.

“Raff!” I call, running toward him.

He looks up, relief flooding his face. “Sophie, thank God. Where’s Dom?”

“I was hoping you could tell me. He sent me a text saying he was at Dock 47, but when I got there, the boat was gone. Someone said they heard gunshots.”

“Shit.” Raff runs a hand through his hair. “I’ve been trying to reach him for two hours.”

“Do you know where he might have gone?”

“I know where I think he went.” Raff gestures toward the harbor. “Dom chartered a yacht for tonight. Some kind of surprise for you. But if the boat’s gone and he’s not answering his phone…”

“Someone took him.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Uncle Enzo.”

Raff nods grimly. “Dom told me about your uncle’s ultimatum. About the choice he gave you.”

“This is my fault. If I hadn’t told Dom the truth, if I hadn’t made Uncle Enzo think I’d betrayed him-”

“Sophie, stop. This isn’t your fault.”

“Isn’t it? Uncle Enzo warned me what would happen if I chose Dom over the mission. Now he’s probably-” I can’t finish the sentence. Can’t voice the possibility that I might have gotten the man I love killed.

“We’ll find him,” Raff says firmly. “But Sophie, I need to ask you something, and I need you to be completely honest with me.”

“What?”

“Is there any chance your uncle would actually hurt Dom? Or is this more likely to be a conversation that got out of hand?”

I think about Uncle Enzo’s face when his people brought me to him. The disappointment in his eyes when he talked about my wavering loyalty. The cold certainty in his voice when he said he’d finish the job himself if I couldn’t.

“I don’t know,” I whisper. “A few days ago, I would have said no. Uncle Enzo isn’t a killer. But now… I think he might do anything he believes is necessary to protect what’s left of our family.”

“Even if it means losing you?”

“Maybe he thinks he’s already lost me.”

Raff’s phone rings, and he answers immediately. “Yeah?” His expression changes as he listens. “Are you sure? Okay, we’ll be right there.”

“What?”

“Harbor patrol spotted a yacht anchored near Hart Island. Matches the description of Dom’s charter.”

Hart Island. Where the city buries its unclaimed dead.

“That’s not a coincidence,” I say.

“No, it’s not. Come on.”

We take Raff’s speedboat, cutting through the dark water toward the distant lights of Hart Island. My stomach churns with each wave we hit, though I’m not sure if it’s seasickness or fear.

Or the pregnancy. God, the pregnancy. My baby.

“There,” Raff says, pointing toward a sleek yacht anchored about a hundred yards from shore. “That’s Dom’s charter.”

Even from a distance, I can see figures moving on the deck. At least three people, maybe more.

“How do we do this?” I ask.

“Carefully. If your uncle really has taken Dom hostage, we can’t just charge in there.”

“But we can’t just sit here either.”

“No, we can’t.” Raff cuts the engine, letting us drift closer. “Sophie, I need you to know something. If this goes bad, if we can’t get Dom out safely…”

“Don’t.”

“You’re going to have to live with whatever happens. You’re going to have to take care of yourself.”

“Raff-”

“Promise me. Whatever happens tonight, you survive it. Dom would never forgive me if something happened to you because I let you come along.”

I look at this man who’s been Dom’s closest friend for over a decade, who’s risking his life to help save someone he cares about.

“I promise,” I say. “But Raff? We’re not losing him tonight.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I have something to tell him. Something important. And I’m not letting Uncle Enzo take that away from me.”

We tie off to the yacht’s stern, using the swimming platform to board as quietly as possible. Voices carry across the water - Dom’s voice, tense but controlled, and Uncle Enzo’s, softer but somehow more dangerous.

“…never wanted to hurt you, Domenico. But you’ve forced my hand.”

“By falling in love with your niece?”

“By making her forget who she is. Who we are.”

I signal to Raff to stay low as we creep toward the main deck.

Through the windows of the main cabin, I can see them - Dom sitting in a chair, his hands apparently free, but three armed men positioned around the room.

Uncle Enzo stands by the bar, looking older and more tired than I’ve ever seen him.

“Sophie knows exactly who she is,” Dom says. “She’s a woman who’s tired of living in the past. Who wants to build something new instead of tearing down something old.”

“Sophie is a child playing at being an adult. She doesn’t understand the consequences of her choices.”

“Don’t I?”

My voice carries across the cabin as I step through the doorway, and everyone freezes. Uncle Enzo’s face goes pale, and Dom’s expression shifts from resignation to alarm.

“Sophie, get out of here,” Dom says immediately.

“No.” I keep my eyes on Uncle Enzo. “We need to talk.”

“There’s nothing to discuss, Sophie. You’ve made your choice clear.”

“Have I? Because I think you’ve misunderstood what that choice actually was.”

“You chose him over your family.”

“I chose love over hatred. There’s a difference.”

Uncle Enzo gestures to his men, who raise their weapons slightly. “Sophie, I’m going to ask you to leave. What happens here doesn’t concern you anymore.”

“It concerns me more than anyone.” I take a step closer, putting myself between the guns and Dom. “Uncle Enzo, you’ve been like a father to me for sixteen years. You raised me, protected me, taught me everything I know about loyalty and family.”

“And yet here you are, defending the son of the man who killed your parents.”

“No. Here I am, trying to save the man I love from making the same mistake our families have been making for sixteen years.”

“What mistake?”

“Fighting the wrong enemy.”

Uncle Enzo’s expression falters slightly. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the fact that Dom’s father didn’t kill my parents. That my father didn’t betray Dom’s family. That someone else has been pulling our strings for sixteen years, turning us against each other while they profit from our war.”

“Sophie-”

“Dom’s Uncle Riccardo. He’s been manipulating both our families since the beginning.”

Uncle Enzo goes very still. “How do you know that?”

“Because I’ve been investigating. Because the evidence I found, the documents that showed our fathers were business partners, they’re real.

Because every story we’ve been told about that night, every piece of proof we’ve seen, has been carefully crafted to make us hate each other instead of looking for the real killer. ”

“That’s impossible.”

“Is it? Think about it, Uncle. Who benefits from the Moretti and Bellini families destroying each other? Who’s been feeding you information about Dom’s family for sixteen years? Who convinced you that Antonio Moretti was your enemy instead of your friend?”

I can see Uncle Enzo processing this, see the doubt creeping into his eyes.

“Riccardo came to you after my parents died, didn’t he?” I continue. “With proof that Dom’s father was responsible. Documents, photographs, witness statements.”

“Yes, but—”

“All of it fake. All of it designed to turn you into his weapon against the Moretti family.”

“Sophie, you don’t understand-”

“I understand that you love me. I understand that everything you’ve done, you’ve done because you thought you were protecting me. But Uncle, you’ve been protecting me from the wrong people.”

Uncle Enzo sinks into a chair, suddenly looking every one of his years. “If what you’re saying is true…”

“It is true. And Uncle, there’s something else you need to know.”

“What?”

I take a deep breath, knowing that what I’m about to say will change everything.

“I’m pregnant.”

The words hang in the cabin air like a bomb that’s just been detonated.

Uncle Enzo just stares at me.

“Pregnant,” he repeats.

“About six weeks. With Dom’s child.”

“Sophie-”

“So you see, Uncle, this isn’t just about me anymore. It’s about the future. About giving the next generation a chance to grow up without the poison that’s been destroying our families.”