Page 15 of Control (Dark Syndicate #1)

Remo

I adjust my tie in the mirror, checking my reflection once more. The dark suit fits perfectly. The shoulders are broad, and the collar is stiff. I look nothing like the man I am, like the man I’ve become. But that’s the point.

Marco, dressed similarly, is already at the door, checking his gun. His usual smirk is nowhere to be seen. He’s all business tonight.

“You sure about this, Boss?” he asks. “We could use more men.”

I don’t take my eyes off my reflection in the mirror, but I feel his stare on me. He knows the kind of situation we’re walking into. It’s too delicate to mess up.

I let out a breath. “I want to be as inconspicuous as possible. Trailing in with a bunch of armed guys in suits isn’t exactly the definition of subtle, now, is it?”

Marco doesn’t argue. He knows better. Especially tonight. No room for flashy shows of power or threats that don’t need to be made.

“Marco,” I say, “you handle the logistics on the ground. Livia, stay on the systems. Keep everything tight.” Then, turning toward the door, I growl, “Let’s move.”

As I step into the hallway, my eyes glance at the room where Daniela is, isolated, with two of my men posted by the door.

My voice is harsh when I look at them and say, “Make sure she’s safe. No matter what. Don’t let her out of your sight.”

They give me a quick nod. It’s all just a precaution, but it feels like more. I’m controlling things even when I’m not there. I made sure to set up a hidden camera in her room because watching her and knowing what she’s doing, even when I’m not around, calms me in a sick, twisted way.

It’s all just a way to pretend I’m in control. To pretend I’m not losing my grip.

With that, I head for the door. My car’s waiting, the engine already rumbling. Livia and Marco are in the front, ready to move.

“We’ll get close,” I say in a hard voice, pushing the thought of Daniela aside for now. “Angelo’s smart. He’ll have people watching, so stay sharp. Don’t let anyone see us coming.”

They don’t say anything. They don’t need to. We’ve been through this too many times.

We’re heading for a wedding reception tucked away in some private estate. Angelo’s daughter is getting married, so it’s the perfect cover for a quiet strike.

I should be focused on that, but as we drive through the dark streets, I can’t stop thinking about her. Daniela.

What the hell is she doing? Is she okay?

Part of me—the part that’s been hardened by this life—wants to dismiss it all. Wants to pretend I’m not losing my mind over a woman. But the other part of me—the part I don’t show anyone—wants to just drop everything and rush back to her.

****

The estate is surrounded by tall gates, and the security is tight—too tight—but that’s nothing new for this line of work.

As we pull up, the reception hall stretches out before us, dripping with opulence.

Chandeliers hang from the ceiling like ornate, glowing traps, casting shadows across the space.

I scan the room as we walk in. The laughter in the air feels too far away, almost like it doesn’t even touch me. Everyone’s on high alert, watching, waiting. But not me. I’m here for a reason, and it has nothing to do with making small talk.

I take the lead. In a tight suit and with a sharp British accent, it’s the perfect disguise. No one knows who we are, and that’s how I like it.

Livia’s right behind me with her tablet open and plugged into the network.

“Everything’s in place,” she whispers, more to herself than anyone. “We’ve got eyes on Angelo. It’s time.”

“You seem more tense than usual tonight, Boss.” Marco’s eyes flick to me before they quickly shift back to scanning the room. “Something bothering you?”

I don’t answer right away. I let my eyes sweep across the reception hall, feigning casual observation, but it’s all a ruse. I know exactly what Marco’s doing, probing and trying to get inside my head. He’s trying to dig. About her. He’s a smart guy, but he doesn’t know shit about this.

Maybe, just maybe, I’ve let some cracks show. But it doesn’t mean he gets to ask.

I keep walking, ignoring his question, but Marco’s never one to let go easily. Not when he senses weakness.

“You are tense,” he presses again. “She’s got you rattled? You’ve been acting different lately. Why haven’t we killed her yet? It’s been months already, keeping her alive and dragging this out with her around—”

Something inside me snaps—a fuse lighting a fire I can’t ignore. The nerve.

I slow my steps and pivot to face him. My jaw clenches so hard that it hurts, my teeth grinding together as I force the words out between them.

“Marco,” I growl, the threat in my voice low. “If you want to keep breathing, you better mind your own fucking business.”

His eyes harden like stone, but he doesn’t flinch. The bastard knows better. He’s loyal, but loyalty isn’t a free pass to ask questions that shouldn’t be asked.

I take a step closer, leaning in just enough so he can feel the heat of my breath against his ear. “You wanna get us both killed by running your mouth? You think I give a shit about anything other than this job? Focus on the mission. Or you’ll end up on the other side of my knife.”

Marco doesn’t speak. His lips tighten, and I see it in his eyes. He’s processing, backing off. Good. He knows when to stop. And tonight? I’m not in the mood for games. Not now. Not ever.

We continue moving through the crowd and looking for the one that matters. Angelo’s somewhere in here, and I’m not leaving without him.

Livia’s movements draw my attention, the subtle shifts as she blends into the background, her eyes darting around, never fully settling. She’s good, too good. But something’s off. I just don’t have time to figure out what it is right now.

I spot Angelo across the room, flanked by his bodyguards. The bastard’s still playing king, thinking he’s untouchable. I feel the anger coil in my gut, but I keep it in check. Focus. Patience.

I turn to Marco. “Take the exits. I want them covered. Livia, you’re with me. We move when I say so.”

They nod, and I don’t wait to see if they follow.

And then it happens.

“Livia?” The voice rings out across the room, loud enough for a few people to glance in our direction.

“Livia Moretti? Is that really you?” The man’s eyes lock with hers.

He’s standing by the bar with a few others surrounding him, but the second their eyes meet, I see it—the flicker of recognition on his face.

Livia’s entire body stiffens like she’s been hit with a jolt of electricity. For a moment, I think she might run, but she doesn’t. She freezes, pale as a ghost.

She forces a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, her voice unsteady.

She tries to look past him and pretend like he’s not there. But he’s not having it.

“You don’t recognize me?” His grin stretches wide, mocking. “Guess I wasn’t good enough for a second date, huh? Well, it was to be expected after you fucked your ex’s best friend.”

The crowd laughs. It’s harmless, in theory. But for Livia? It’s anything but.

I step forward. My jaw is locked tight, my temper ready to boil over. “Hey,” I snap, my voice cutting through. “What did you say?”

The man falters, but only slightly, his grin wavering just enough. He shifts his stare from Livia to me, confusion flashing in his eyes.

“Just making a joke, man. No harm meant.” The words come out rushed and nervous now, but it’s too late.

I don’t give him time to explain further.

I close the gap between us and lower my voice to a deadly whisper, “You have about thirty seconds to apologize before I take the gun from my holster that’s underneath this suit and shove it so far down your throat that you’ll choke on your blood before you even have a chance to beg for mercy. ”

His eyes widen, panic creeping in as he stammers out a half-hearted, “I’m sorry.”

“Good.” I step closer to him, my presence imposing, pressing him further down. “Let this be the last time you ever open your stupid mouth and embarrass a lady, no matter what she’s done.”

“Yes. I’m sorry. I was just hurt. She lied to me. She told me she was dating her boss, Remo Callegari, and used that to scare me off. I swore I’d get her back.”

The mention of my name hits me like a bullet to the chest. I see it—the moment he says it. I see the flash of recognition in Angelo’s guards’ eyes. It’s a split-second reaction, but it’s enough.

The guards immediately go on high alert. One of them murmurs into his receiver, and I barely have time to shove the man aside before chaos erupts.

The shots come so quickly. The room explodes into chaos, with people screaming, running, and diving behind tables and chairs for cover. The explosion of violence is the last thing I expected, but it’s the first thing I know how to handle.

I shove Livia behind me. Marco is already on the move, covering me from the side. Gunshots echo through the room, but it’s nothing new to me. This is the world I know, the one I’ve been living in for years. The only thing that matters right now is survival.

I catch a glimpse of Livia. Her hands are pressed against her ears, her eyes wide and distant. She’s lost, shaken.

“Pull your freaking self together and shoot!” Marco yells at her, tossing a gun into her hands.

The room erupts in a storm of bullets as Angelo’s men swarm us, and we’re left fighting for our lives. It’s all instinct now, the kind of violence that has become second nature.

The wedding’s clearly over. The reception is now a war zone. People scramble for cover behind overturned tables and broken chairs, and windows shatter as people dive through them, desperate to escape.

Screams fill the air, chaos reverberating off the walls.

I drop three men before Marco even moves, though his shots are just as fast and precise. The three of us are a well-oiled machine, trained to fight, to kill, to survive.