Page 40 of Entwined Lies (Entwined #1)

Luca

We waited in silence for Reid. I didn’t have it in me for small talk—not with that knot still tightening in my gut since Enzo’s call.

“Issues with the bugs.”

Those four words had ruined any hope of a normal morning, the bitterness of my coffee doing nothing to mask the taste of my frustration.

Isabelle had looked at me with those searching eyes, probably waiting for me to say something, to reassure her.

But what could I say? That the whole damn plan might be unraveling in front of our eyes?

She hadn’t asked questions, though. She’d been like this all morning—affectionate, but only in those quiet, passing ways. A brush of her hand. The ghost of a touch. Still wrapped in silence that felt heavier than it usually did, like she was somewhere far away even while she stood right next to me.

The creak of the door pulled my focus, and I turned just in time to see Reid walk in.

Brisk, sharp-edged, all business. He had his laptop wedged under one arm, headphones dangling from the other hand, eyes already scanning the room as if he were ten steps ahead of whatever conversation was about to happen.

He thrived under pressure, always had. Maybe that’s why I kept Reid close—he didn’t flinch when the world went to hell .

He sat down at the long metal table. His fingers moved fast, pulling data before I could even form the question.

“We’ve been getting feeds from the bugs we planted,” Reid began, his tone all business. “But there’s something seriously off.”

“Off? How?” I asked, leaning forward, trying to push down the frustration clawing at me.

I needed to stay focused, needed to think clearly, but with Isabelle’s silence gnawing at the back of my mind and the mounting tension in the room, it was getting harder to do either.

“The bugs are doing their job.” Reid’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the data on his screen. “They’re activated by sound, just like they’re supposed to be, but… they’re shutting down randomly, anywhere between thirty seconds to one minute after activation.”

“What the hell?” Enzo muttered, stepping closer, his brows drawn together in confusion. “Why would they do that?”

“Interference?” I asked, even though I knew that didn’t sit right. “Faulty equipment?”

Reid shook his head, fingers hammering the keys as he pulled up another set of data. “Not likely. These bugs were tested beforehand—both of them. They were working fine when they went in. It’s almost like…” His voice faltered. He looked at me, just for a second, and I caught something in his face.

I knew.

Whatever came next was going to make everything worse.

“Like what?”

“Like someone knows they’re there. Like someone’s using a jammer. Shutting them down on purpose.”

His words landed like a blow. The room went still. The kind of silence that makes your lungs forget how to work.

I looked at each of them. One by one. Studied every twitch, every glance. Someone was lying—I just didn’t know who yet. Someone had tipped Parker off. It was the only explanation, and the thought made my blood boil.

But it was Isabelle who pulled my focus.

She stood off to my left, arms wrapped tightly across her chest, her eyes darting between me and Reid as if she were tracking landmines. She chewed the inside of her cheek.

Not the look of someone caught in a lie. It was fear. Helplessness. Like she was watching a fuse burn toward something she couldn’t stop.

“So, Parker knows we’re listening,” I muttered. Still, my thoughts weren’t on Parker—they were circling the bigger problem: there was a rat under my roof.

“Not necessarily.” Reid shook his head. “He might just be playing it safe. He hasn’t said anything specific about the bugs, at least not in the audio we’ve pulled. But he’s definitely trying to shut us out.”

“That son of a bitch,” Enzo said, raking a hand through his hair. “What now?”

I kept my voice steady. I had to. Couldn’t let any of them see the doubt creeping in, couldn’t give them any reason to think I suspected one of them was feeding Parker information.

“We adapt,” I said, forcing the words out, as if saying them aloud would somehow make it easier to believe. “We double down on surveillance, track their every move, and monitor their activities without relying on electronics.”

Enzo nodded, his expression serious. He understood the gravity of the situation. We couldn’t afford to be careless. Our men would need to blend in, remain unseen, and gather intel the old-fashioned way. But physical surveillance was only one part of the solution.

Chrissy, who had been silent until now, leaned forward. “We need to dig into their circles. There’s got to be someone close to them with a weakness. Everyone’s got something to hide. ”

She was right. We could apply pressure if we could find the right leverage—whether it was an affair, a hidden debt, or a disgruntled associate.

But I wasn’t interested in just any secret.

The dirtier the secret, the better. Something we could dangle over their heads like a guillotine, something so damaging they’d do anything to keep it buried.

That’s the kind of leverage that makes people crack, makes them pliable and willing to do whatever we say.

“Reid,” I said, “dig into their financials. Look for anything that doesn’t add up—hidden transactions, offshore accounts, anything we can use to cause a crack in their defenses.

But don’t stop there. I want every skeleton in their closet.

Affairs, dirty money, fucked-up fetishes—the kind of shit that makes a person lose sleep, that they’d rather die than have exposed. ”

Reid gave a thumbs up, a flicker of something dark and eager passing through his eyes. “I’ll get on it.”

As he turned back to his screen, a familiar sense of control slipped back into place, like a weapon I’d momentarily dropped.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her, Isabelle, watching me again. Only this time, there was something harder in her stare. Maybe she’d caught it, the same thing I did. That something here didn’t add up. That someone was off.

But it was impossible to figure out who was playing both sides. Each of them had so much to lose, things that couldn’t be measured in money. And that’s what made this even harder—knowing that all of them had a reason to stay loyal, a reason to be trusted. Yet here I was, questioning everything.

Enzo was my brother. Blood. He’d stood by my side when others would’ve run, taken bullets meant for me without a second thought.

If there was one person I could always count on, it was him.

We’d been through hell together, and I knew he’d rather die than betray me. He wasn’t the rat. He couldn’t be .

Isabelle had Jake. She’d do anything to protect him, even if it meant staying in this life a little longer than she wanted to.

I’d watched her from the shadows, seen the way she looked at pictures of our son, the way she spoke to him over the phone when she thought no one was listening.

She wouldn’t risk Jake’s safety—not for anyone, not for any reason.

Chrissy was one of the handful of people who had ever had the balls to stand up to me and threaten me.

It was funny, really, seeing this petite woman glaring up at me, fists clenched, telling me she’d make my life hell if I so much as made Isabelle cry.

And the thing is, I believed her. She’d proven that she’d do anything to protect her.

That kind of loyalty didn’t just vanish.

If Chrissy were betraying me, she’d be betraying Isabelle too—and there was no chance in hell she would ever do that.

Reid had a wife and a baby on the way. He was in this life for the money, but he wouldn’t risk everything with a child coming. Too much at stake.

And Nina, she was a mystery, but I’d seen her flinch at mentions of her past. Working for me kept her from whatever darkness she’d escaped. She wouldn’t risk reopening those wounds.

Every single one of them had too much to lose.

Not just money, not just status. But pieces of themselves—pieces they’d fought to protect, to prove that they were worth something.

And yet, despite all the reasons why it couldn’t be any of them, someone in this room was risking everything. And the worst part? I had no idea who.

Isabelle stayed behind with Reid, combing through the financial records. Her focus was sharp—too sharp, as if she were trying to disappear into the data.

I caught her eye and tipped my chin toward the hallway. “Step out with me. ”

She hesitated—not long, but long enough to notice—then slid her phone away and came with me. The sound of her heels followed us down the corridor, sharp and steady. We didn’t stop until the hallway behind us disappeared, and we were alone.

“Someone’s leaking intel,” I said. No preamble. No soft lead-in. “From the inside. I don’t know who yet, but it’s one of them.”

Her whole body went still—shoulders tense, mouth set in that sharp line before she collected herself. “Who knows?”

“Just me. Now you.” I paused. “And I’m keeping it that way.”

She looked at me then—really looked—and for a second, there was something in her eyes I couldn’t place. Not fear. Not surprise. Something heavier.

Her hand brushed mine. Barely a touch, just the edge of her fingers catching my palm before pulling back. But it was enough. Enough to make me want more.

I stepped in closer, dropping my voice. “Watch everyone. Don’t say shit to anyone. If something feels wrong, it probably is. You see a crack—tell me first.”

She nodded, but it was slow. Like she wasn’t just agreeing—she was bracing.

I pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead. Whatever she wasn’t saying, whatever she was holding back, it had to wait. We had a job to do.

Enzo and Chrissy were deep in conversation, heads bent together as they mapped out their strategy, when I left. They’d dig into Parker and Ivanov’s circles, find the weak spots we could use. But intel alone wasn’t enough now. We needed action, people ready to strike the moment we had something.

I made it home on autopilot, jaw tight, thoughts louder than I wanted them to be. The air inside was cold, dry, a slap in the face after the heat outside .

Walking to the fridge, I threw it open and grabbed a bottle of water. I was halfway through twisting the cap off when my phone chimed. I expected an update. Instead, it was a message from one of my men.

Saw Roberto talking to Parker earlier. Looked friendly.

My grip tightened around the phone.

Roberto had been a capo for years—loyal, or so I thought. The idea that he’d be meeting with Parker turned my stomach, the betrayal sharper than any blade. But was it true? Or was Parker playing mind games, planting seeds of doubt?

I dialed Roberto with a clenched jaw and too much restraint. The ring cut through the silence—sharp, drawn out, like it knew I didn’t have the patience for this.

He didn’t answer.

I exhaled slowly, my fingers drumming against the counter. I needed to find out if my capo was slipping away from me, or if someone was trying to set him up.

Rushing straight to my office, I yanked open my laptop and pulled up the folder where I kept everything we had on Parker and Ivanov—their routines, their connections, their vulnerabilities.

As I scrolled through the files, an old memory slipped in—uninvited, but more clear than anything in front of me.

My father’s voice, cold and unyielding, as he stood over me, blood dripping from his knuckles.

‘The first mistake you make, Luca, is thinking loyalty’s a two-way street.

Men will follow you until they find a better offer.

The trick isn’t in earning loyalty—it’s in making them too afraid to betray you. ’

And here I was, decades later, wondering if my capo had just found himself a better offer—or if someone else was trying to shake my foundations.

I dialed Enzo .

“I want eyes on Roberto. Discreetly. Find out what the hell he’s doing with Parker.”

Hanging up, I turned my attention back to the files. But as I laid out the next steps, my father’s voice echoed again. ‘They’ll all betray you in the end. Even the ones you think never will.’

I pushed the memory aside, forcing myself to focus. Roberto might be playing both sides, or Parker might be feeding us lies. Either way, I’d find out, and when I did, there’d be no mercy.

Isabelle was doing her part, reaching out to her FBI contacts, asking for favors, and I had to do mine. No room for mistakes—only results.