Chapter 4 - A TREASON OF THE HEART
The Duca underground bunker was a fortress of steel and concrete, impervious to artillery fire. For forty-eight hours, Serena and the children were kept in total isolation while Rocco purged his syndicate.
The tension between Rocco and Serena was palpable. They stood at opposite sides of the high-tech command center, watching the monitors as Dante interrogated suspected moles in the holding cells below.
"You think I'm a traitor," Serena said quietly, breaking the silence. Her voice was exhausted, hollowed out by two days of perpetual fear.
Rocco didn’t turn around from the monitors. "You took money from the Volkovs, Serena. Even if you didn't know who they were, you allowed my children to be funded by Russian blood money."
"I was desperate!" she shouted, stepping toward him. "I was twenty-two years old, pregnant with triplets, and your father had just told me that if I gave birth to girls, they would be married off to rival clans to secure territory! I didn't care where the money came from, Rocco. I just wanted them to have a chance to be normal!"
Rocco finally turned to face her. The sheer sorrow in his pale blue eyes caught her off guard. "Normal? Look at Marco, Serena. He doesn't flinch when a gun goes off. He watches the security feeds with me. He has my blood. There is nothing normal about a Duca, and there never will be."
Before Serena could argue, the steel door of the command center hissed open. Dante walked in, his shirt sleeves rolled up, splattered with fresh blood. His expression was hollow, devoid of his usual stoic confidence.
"Boss," Dante said, his voice shaking slightly. "We got the mole to talk before his heart gave out."
"Who is it?" Rocco demanded, his hand moving instinctively toward his holster.
Dante looked at Serena, then back at Rocco. "It wasn't one of the captains, Boss. It was someone higher. Someone who had access to your personal travel logs and the old encrypted files from five years ago."
Dante pulled out a tablet and hit play on an audio recording. A familiar, smooth voice echoed through the concrete room.
"The girl is in Boston. She has the triplets. Rocco just walked into the diner. Trigger the hit now. Kill the Don, secure the children, and bring Serena to me. The Duca empire falls today."
Serena gasped, her knees turning to water. She knew that voice. It was the man who had helped her escape five years ago. The man who had given her the cash, the passport, and the apartment in Boston.
But Rocco knew the voice for a different reason.
It belonged to Matteo Duca. Rocco’s younger brother. The man who had sat at his right hand for the last two years, pretending to mourn their father while secretly plotting a coup with the Russian Bratva.
"Matteo," Rocco whispered, the word tasting like ash in his mouth.
"He’s already gone, Boss," Dante said quickly. "He cleared out his private safe and left the compound ten minutes before the alarms went off during the attack. Our trackers place his cell signal at the private airfield in Bedford. He’s fleeing to Moscow."
Rocco didn't rage. He didn't smash the monitors. The absolute stillness that returned to his body was far more terrifying than any explosion of anger. He looked at Serena, seeing the sheer betrayal shattered across her face. She had thought Matteo was her savior; in reality, he was the architect of her living nightmare.
"Dante," Rocco said, his voice dropping to a whisper that sounded like a death knell. "Prep the chopper. We’re going to the airfield."
"Rocco, no!" Serena cried, grabbing his arm. "It's a trap! If he’s working with the Volkovs, they’ll have an army waiting for you!"
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Rocco looked down at her hand on his arm, then up into her terrified eyes. For the first time in five years, he smiled—a cold, beautiful, predatory smirk.
"Let them bring their army," Rocco murmured, kissing her forehead gently before pulling away. "They have no idea what a father will do to protect his kingdom."
