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The fireworks bloomed overhead, showering white and gold sparks across the dark bay, but Clara’s eyes were locked on Aldo Falconee’s right coat pocket. / Chapter 8 / 10

Chapter 8 - The Betrayal WithinClara didn't turn around immediately. She kept her eyes fixed on the glowing monitor, where Matteo’s face stared back at her from the dashcam footage.

"I didn't hear you knock, Matteo," Clara said, keeping her voice remarkably steady.

"Doors in this house tend to unlock for people who know the master codes," Matteo replied smoothly. The footsteps drew closer, stopping just behind her chair. A heavy shadow fell over her desk. "What’s that you're looking at? Looks interesting."

"Just old files," Clara said, her fingers inching closer to the drawer handle. "Corporate restructuring."

"Corporate restructuring," Matteo repeated, a dry, humorless chuckle escaping his lips. "Funny. Boss told me you were looking into Falconee remnants. But it seems to me you're looking a little too close to home."

In one fluid motion, Clara yanked the drawer open and grabbed the pistol, but before she could bring the barrel around, a heavy, calloused hand slammed down on the metal slide, pinning the gun inside the drawer with crushing force.

At the same time, the cold steel of a hunting knife pressed gently against the side of her neck.

"I wouldn't do that, Clara," Matteo whispered in her ear, his breath smelling faintly of clove and gunpowder. "You’re smart. Brilliant, even. You figured out Aldo. But you stayed too long at the table. You thought Adrienne brought you up here because he likes you? He brings every stray dog close before he puts them down."

"You were in the car eleven months ago, Matteo," Clara whispered, her pulse racing but her mind razor-sharp. "You didn't just leak the dock ambush. You helped set it up. You and Aldo wanted to split the syndicate."

"And we still do," Matteo said softly. "Only problem is, Adrienne is too paranoid now. He trusts you. Which means, unfortunately for you, you’ve become an inconvenient loose end."

"If you kill me, Adrienne will know within an hour," Clara countered, her eyes scanning the room for any reflective surface to gauge his position.

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"Adrienne won't know a thing," Matteo smiled coldly. "The official report will say our new intelligence chief cracked under the pressure and put a bullet in her own head. A tragic accident in the east wing."

The knife pressed a fraction of an inch deeper, a tiny bead of warm blood trickling down Clara's neck.

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