Page 15 of Sworn to the Enemy

Enzo

The warehouse is a dark smear against the night.

The air is heavy with salt and oil. My blood’s still roaring from the fight of minutes ago, adrenaline powering my every move.

My knuckles are bruised, and the gun is heavy in my hand as I point it to the barely breathing man on the wet floor. Unblinking, I pull the trigger.

I haven't had a wink of sleep since I left Fina trembling on that table last night, her pussy dripping with my cum, her moans burned into my skull. She’s why I’m off, why I want this over, why I’m itching to get back to the manor, even if I hate admitting it

It surprises me. I've never been one to rush a job and go home. I like to be thorough in my work, be it in dark alleys and boardrooms. But right now, I’m restless, and it's because of her.

That damned woman. She has impaled myself on my mind.

So much so that whenever I close my eyes, it's her I see. She's dominating my thoughts.

Matteo’s beside me, shouting orders as our men haul crates we just ripped back from the Gallos. They had come prepared. A pity we'd come better prepared.

The job is done. It's quick. It's effective. It's bloody. Bodies are slumped on the concrete. A few of the men had escaped, and some of the men are hot on their heels. This place is a bloodbath. I rock on my heels, wishing my men would go faster.

I haven't seen her since I left the manor last night.

My wedding night and I'd left her for a mission.

Why does it nag me? It's not like she expects anything from me.

We'd both made it clear what we wanted or didn't want from our marriage—except for the surprise sex we hadn't at all factored in.

But I can't seem to shake the thought that I should be back in the manor, under the sheets with her, holding her against me while I murmur sweet nonsense to her.

Save for the mind-blowing sex, we can barely tolerate each other. What will we be talking about? More sex positions to explore? The sizzling attraction that I know even she doesn't deny feeling? I need to tether myself back to reality and stay grounded. Fina is trouble.

I reach down, gripping the cold steel of my gun and the sharp and metallic scent of blood pulls me back. This is my world, not her. She'll never be mine in the true sense of it. The sex we had was nothing. It's nothing. The more I have it ingrained, the better.

Nico, one of the men that had come on this mission with us, jogs over. His face tight as he flicks nervous eyes to me and Matteo. There's trouble. I nearly groan. At which point exactly do I go home?

“Signor Mancini, we got a problem,” he says, his voice low, his eyes on Matteo like he’s afraid to speak.

There's a rumor going about in my crew that Matteo is the most feared, even with his charm. I wear my fierceness as a shell on the exterior, and with me, what they see is what they get. But with Matteo, his charm is deceptive. Underneath is something brutal, so I understand Nico’s prejudice.

My instinct flares at the look in his eyes. “Talk,” I snap, sliding the gun into my holster.

He leans in, his breath sour with cigarettes. “Caught one of their guys alive. He talked.” His eyes refuse to meet mine.

“And…?” I inquire.

“He says there’s a traitor in our crew. He's been feeding the Gallos our routes, our deals.” The words douse me in cold water.

It burrows deep, igniting my rage. A traitor.

In my house. My men are my blood, they'll never think to betray me.

They know the reward for betrayal. But apparently, someone's been stupid enough.

“Who?” I growl, stepping close. My voice is a threat.

Nico shakes his head, sweat gleaming on his brow. “He didn’t know a name. Just said it’s someone close.”

My jaw locks, my mind spinning—Luca, Marco, Matteo? No, not Matteo. He’s my brother in all but blood. I rule him out immediately. He'll never betray me. Even with my life on the line, I'll swear to it.

“Get him to the safehouse,” I say, my voice icy. “I’ll deal with him.” Nico scrambles off, and I turn to Matteo, who’s watching, his face blank. “You hear that?” I say, eyes narrowing.

He nods, slowly. “Yeah. Fucking rat in our ranks.” His voice is steady, but I know there's barely contained rage beneath his calm demeanor.

“Come on, then,” I say to Matteo.

We move out. Throughout the drive through the city, my head’s a mess.

A traitor in my ranks. I replay every deal, every hit, wondering what’s been sold and how far this goes.

The Gallos have been too sharp, their moves too clean, and now I know why.

Someone I trust is bleeding me, and it’s a wound I can’t ignore.

I light a cigar, the smoke harsh, curling in my chest, but it doesn’t dull the anger. Matteo glances over, his voice careful. “You thinking it’s one of the core guys?”

I grunt, staring out the window. “Could be anyone. I’ll find him, and he’s done.” He nods, but his silence feels heavy. I know he’s wondering who I suspect. I know he's wondering who it could be.

My phone buzzes. I groan. I need rest. I pick up. Nico’s voice crackles through. “Signor Mancini, the guy gave up more. He says a Rossi associate, Luis, is fucking with another operation. He’s sabotaging your docks, rerouting shipments to screw you.”

My blood boils. Domenico’s man. I'd met him at the wedding. A smug bastard. I'd heard him talking to Domenico's other men about how he thinks Domenico is making a huge mistake by giving Fina to me.

What does it mean that another Rossi is trying to sabotage me? Why's this happening now with Fina in my home? The timing’s too perfect. Is she in on it? Playing me while I’m balls-deep in her? The thought of her tied to this, even loosely, twists my gut.

“Where is he?” I snap. Nico pauses. “Dive bar downtown. Got two guys with him.”

“Grab him. We’re taking him to the manor. No noise. Text the bar’s address to me.” Nico grunts, and I hang up, my plan snapping into place.

“Luis,” Matteo says, voice low, catching my eye. My phone had been on speaker and he'd caught every word. “Domenico’s guy. The manor? You sure?”

I nod, my jaw tight. “He’s fucking with my money, Matteo. He’s mine.”

Matteo raises a brow but stays quiet, his hands steady on the wheel. I lean back, plotting in my mind. Luis could be leverage, a way to choke the Rossis without shattering this fragile peace. Torture’s tempting. His screams would feel good, but the Rossis are no small enemy, and I’m married to one.

“Goddammit,” I mutter.

Matteo glances at me again. “You sure you know what you're doing?”

I grunt, nodding.

“The Rossis are formidable. You're married to one. Pulling an attack on one of their own is you overstepping. And, taking him to the manor? What if Serafina finds out? Need I remind you that she's not a woman to fuck with?”

I impale him with a glare. “Where does your loyalty lie? To me or to Serafina?”

He glances at me as though I've gone mad. Maybe I have.

“Besides, she's my fucking wife. I know her better than anyone. I know she's not a woman to fuck with.”

This draws a chuckle from Matteo and he raises his hand in mock surrender. “Relax, man. She's your wife, all right. I just want to be sure you've thought this through.”

I say nothing to that. I've thought it through and I'm not entertaining any more conversation about it. Matteo understands my grim silence and shuts the hell up. My head is pounding.

In no time, we hit the bar. It's a grimy hole lit by neon. The air is thick with beer and sweat. Nico’s in the alley, signaling as we step down from the car. “He’s inside,” he whispers, nodding to a side door. “Two guys, like I said.”

I nod, pulling my jacket tight, and we move stealthily. Inside, the bar’s dim, music thumping, and I spot Luis at a corner table, laughing, a drink in hand. His men are distracted, one chatting up a waitress, the other on his phone. Perfect.

I signal, and we strike—Matteo grabs one guy, slamming him down, while I pin Luis, my arm around his throat, gun to his temple.

“Move, and you’re dead,” I hiss. His men freeze, caught by Nico’s crew, and we drag them out, quick, no shots fired.

Luis struggles, but I tighten my grip, his breath ragged.

“You’re mine now,” I mutter, shoving him into the car.

We head to the manor, Luis bound and gagged in the trunk, his men locked in another car. The drive’s quiet, my thoughts a tangle of fury and plans. The traitor problem looms, but Luis is a problem I can solve.

I’ll throw him in the manor’s cellar, a stone vault beneath the house, and keep him there, a pawn against Domenico. Torture’s on my mind, but I hold off. He’s leverage, and I need him alive—for now.

Serafina complicates it. If she knew I had her father’s man, she’d come for me, all fire and teeth, and part of me wants that fight. I hate how she’s in my head. I need her out of it. Maybe I could dangle Luis’s capture in her face. But even as I think it, I know it's a bad idea.

At the manor, we pull into the garage, the night still dark. Matteo moves to tend to the other captives. I know he'll be ruthless with them. I drag Luis out, his eyes wide, muffled curses behind the gag. “Shut up,” I snap, shoving him toward the cellar stairs.

The door’s heavy, iron, and the air below is damp, smelling of earth and rust. I chain him to a pipe, his wrists bound, and he glares, still cocky. “Big mistake, Mancini,” he spits, voice muffled.

I smirk, leaning close. “You fucked with my docks. Bigger mistake.”

He laughs. The sound's shaky. “Domenico will burn you.”

I grab his jaw, hard, my voice low. “Not if I break you first.” I step back, locking the cell, his curses echoing as I climb the stairs. He’s mine, and Serafina won’t know—not yet.

We move out of the manor quietly and hit the safehouse next.

It can't wait till tomorrow. I have to deal with it now. I have to get back to Fina. The safehouse is a rotting shack on the city’s edge.

The guy from the warehouse, one of the Gallos, is tied up, face battered, blood crusted on his chin.

He’s trembling, eyes wide as I step in with Matteo behind me.

I lean close to him, my stance threatening. “Who’s the traitor?”

He stammers, his voice cracked. “I don’t know a name, I swear. Just heard it’s someone high up, passing your plans to the Gallos.”

I grab his jaw, forcing his eyes to mine. “Details,” I growl.

He chokes out scraps—dates, routes, deals that went south. It’s enough to prove the leak’s real, but not enough to name the snake.

I see him hesitate. His eyes wide go wide, like he’s scared to say more. Matteo picks up on it. “Spill,” he growls.

“There’s something else,” he mumbles, voice shaking. “About your mother. A deal, years back, with the Vitale crew. It went bad, got her killed. They know something, Mancini, something they’re still holding.”

My blood freezes, his words twisting like a knife in my gut. My mother’s death is tied to the Vitales? I clench my fists.

“Fucking bastard. Everyone knows Rossis are behind it, not the Vitales,” Matteo grounds out through clenched teeth.

“Yes, yes, I know… But it's also tied to the Vitales. It's what I heard. I swear, I don't know any more.”

His voice is a trembling mess. My rage erupts, and I slam my fist into his face, blood spraying. “Useless,” I spit, stepping back, my chest heaving. Matteo nods to one of our men, and a gunshot cracks, sharp and final, the prisoner’s body slumping.

I storm outside, lighting a cigar, my second tonight.

The smoke curls, bitter, doing nothing to calm the storm in me.

A traitor’s in my circle, eating me alive, and now this—my mother, the Vitales, Rossis—my wife's fucking family for heaven’s sake, and a secret that’s been buried too long.

It's all a tangled web. A web I need to detangle to get to the root of what happened.

Matteo walks up to me and claps my shoulder, his voice low. “We’ll find him, Enzo. We'll get to everyone that's behind this. Nobody screws us and walks.”

I nod, but my mind’s on Luis, chained in my cellar, a Rossi pawn I can use. I want him broken, but I have to play this smart. Serafina’s one of them, and if she finds out, she’ll come for me. I should avoid it, should avoid her totally.

We get back to the manor just as the beginnings of dawn streaks grey across the sky. I feel oddly unfulfilled. We've managed to handle the issues at hand, but I'm not sated. I itch all over. I need Fina. I need her to ease the burning anger in me.

I head up to my room, my boots heavy on the marble, half hoping she'd be there.

The air is thick with cedar and silence.

As I'd guessed, she's not there. She's not one who likes to be told what to do.

But fuck, I want her. I need a fix and she's the only one to provide that.

Tonight's victory is hollow, it won't do.

I retrace my steps to my study, the loss of not seeing her profound in my mind.

She's upstairs in her room, I bet, probably asleep. I should be glad, I don’t want her eyes on me, not now, not with Luis in my grip.

But I can't help it. I briefly contemplate going up to her room.

Will she welcome me, or will she tell me off?

I arrive at the study, and sit, my mood sour.

I pour a shot of whiskey and stare at the empty hearth.

The fire is long dead. The taste of the whiskey is sharp on my tongue.

Luis is in my cellar, a piece to play against the Rossis.

But Serafina complicates it. She’s a Rossi, a tool, but she’s more, and it’s fucking with me.

She's fucking with me.