Chapter 14 - Shadows in the Italian Alleyways
The cobblestone streets of Palermo were slick with a fine Mediterranean mist, casting long, eerie shadows beneath the ancient streetlamps. A black town car crept slowly down a narrow alleyway in the historic district, stopping outside a modest, ivy-covered stone house.
Rocco stepped out into the cool night air, followed closely by Marco and two elite enforcers. Sophia remained at the estate command center, coordinating satellite surveillance and local contacts.
"This is the address pulled from the hospital’s proxy records," Marco whispered, checking his service weapon. "Registered to a retired naval officer named Giovanni Rossi and his late wife. No known criminal ties—on paper."
"People with hidden pasts don't leave paper trails unless someone wanted them buried," Rocco said, walking up the worn stone steps.
Before he could reach the heavy wooden door, it creaked open. Standing in the threshold was a young woman of eighteen, holding an old lantern. Her dark hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, and when she looked up, Rocco felt the breath catch in his throat.
She had Clara’s eyes. And the unmistakable, distinct left-ear contour shared by every primary bloodline heir of the Moretti name.
"Can I help you?" she asked, her voice tinged with cautious curiosity, speaking fluent Italian with a distinct Sicilian accent. "If you're looking for my grandfather, he passed away last month."
Rocco stared at her, the ruthless mob boss utterly disarmed. "What is your name?"
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"Bianca," she replied, narrowing her eyes as she noticed the heavy build of the men standing behind him. "Who are you?"
Before Rocco could answer, the sharp, deafening crack of a silenced gunshot echoed through the narrow alleyway, shattering the glass lamp hanging beside the door.
