Page 32 of The Assassin’s Captive (The Roma Syndicate #5)

"You know how the system works. You know its weaknesses.

You know who can be bought and who can't be intimidated.

" Emilio leans back in his chair. "More importantly, you know how to exploit those weaknesses legally.

" He's on the prowl now, hunting for her weakness, like a predator ready to pounce on its unsuspecting victim.

The implication settles over the room. Emilio isn't revealing her parentage—he's offering her a position, a role in his organization that would legitimize his operations while destroying everything she's worked to build.

"You want me to help you corrupt the system I've spent my career trying to fix."

"I want you to help me navigate a system that's already corrupt. The difference is significant." As he speaks, he lifts his glass and tips it at her in an action marking his point. One eyebrow rises as he waits for her to think things through.

Before Serena can respond, a sharp knock interrupts the conversation. Emilio's expression doesn't change, but I see the subtle tension that enters his shoulders.

"Enter."

One of his men steps into the room—Carlo Benedetti, a thin man with nervous energy and darting eyes. He approaches Emilio's chair but doesn't sit.

"Forgive the interruption, Don Costa. But there's been a development."

Emilio's gaze flicks to me, then back to Carlo. "Speak."

"Someone followed the car here. We spotted the tail two blocks out and intercepted."

My blood goes cold. I'd checked for surveillance, swept the route twice. If someone had managed to follow us here, they were professional. Extremely professional.

"Who?"

"Unknown. But he left this." Carlo withdraws a manila envelope from his jacket. "Said to give it to you directly."

Emilio takes the envelope without opening it immediately. Instead, he studies Carlo's face, reading information that isn't being spoken aloud.

"And the man?"

"Gone. Disappeared into the crowd near Campo de' Fiori before we could nab him."

Emilio waves his hand, dismissing Carlo with a gesture. The man retreats, closing the door behind him. Only then does Emilio open the envelope.

Inside is a single photograph. Even from across the room, I can see it clearly—Serena walking near the courthouse, briefcase in hand, her hair caught by the wind.

The image was taken with a telephoto lens from a significant distance, which means whoever took it was set up waiting for her.

It's this sort of thing that really riles me up.

I know they've been watching, but it puts me on edge.

Emilio studies the photograph for a long moment, then looks at me. His pale eyes hold a message I understand immediately. This isn't random surveillance. This is a threat.

"Serena," he says quietly. "I think you need some air."

She opens her mouth to protest, but I step forward. "There's a terrace through the side door. You can see the street from there."

She looks between us, recognizing the dismissal but also sensing the shift in atmosphere. After a moment, she stands and moves toward the door I indicated. I watch her shoulders droop as she sighs, and then she's gone, leaving me alone with Emilio Costa.

He sets the photograph on the table next to the first one, arranging them so they're perfectly aligned. When he looks up at me, his expression has changed completely. The polite facade is gone, replaced by the cold calculation that has kept him alive for years.

"How many people knew you were bringing her here?"

"No one. I made the decision an hour ago."

"Then we have a problem." He taps the photograph. "This was taken three months ago. Before you found her. Before the hospital. Before any of this began."

The implications crash over me. Someone has been watching Serena far longer than we realized. Someone with resources and patience. Someone who knows about her connection to the Costa family and has been waiting for the right moment to act.

"Who else has this information?"

"That's what we need to find out." Emilio stands, moving to the window where Serena is visible on the small terrace outside. She's gripping the railing, her knuckles white against the black iron. "But first, we need to discuss her future."

"She'll never work for you willingly."

"I'm not asking her to work for me willingly." His voice is matter-of-fact, devoid of emotion. "I'm asking her to survive."

"What do you mean?"

He turns from the window, his pale eyes fixing on mine. "Someone wants her dead, Lorenzo. Has wanted her dead for months, possibly longer. The only reason she's still alive is because they need information from her first."

"The same information you want."

"Yes. But I want her alive to provide it. They clearly don't share that preference."

The weight of his words settles over me. Serena isn't a tool in a power struggle—she's a target. And the people hunting her have resources that rival Emilio's own.

"What are you proposing?"

"I'm proposing she becomes an asset to this family. Officially. Publicly. Under our protection." He pauses, letting the words sink in. "The alternative is that she remains a target until someone with fewer scruples than I possess decides she's outlived her usefulness."

"And if she refuses?"

Emilio's expression doesn't change, but coldness enters his eyes. "Then she won't survive the next attempt. And there will be a next attempt, Lorenzo. Probably within the week."

He doesn’t really have to outline how bad this threat is. Emilio isn't offering protection—he's issuing an ultimatum. Join the family or die. The choice is that simple and that brutal.

I look toward the terrace where Serena stands silhouetted against the evening sky. She has no idea that her life has been reduced to a binary decision. No idea that the father she never knew has signed her death warrant if she refuses his offer.

But I know. And now I have to decide whether to protect her from the truth or prepare her for it.