Chapter 8 - I WOKE UP IN THE MAFIA BOSS’S SAFE HOUSE
The safe house was not what I expected.
No marble.
No gold furniture.
No armed men smoking cigars around a poker table.
It was a quiet stone lodge tucked against the mountains with six bedrooms, reinforced windows and a medical room better stocked than some clinics.
That last part irritated me.
“You have an ultrasound machine?”
Raphael looked almost embarrassed.
“I have enemies.”
“That apparently improves healthcare access.”
He sat across from me at breakfast the next morning.
His shoulder was bandaged.
My career was suspended.
Neither of us was in an especially good mood.
“I want access to my phone.”
“No.”
I stared at him.
He lifted his coffee.
“I've been waiting years to say that.”
“This is not funny.”
“A little.”
“I need to contact Pike.”
“Secure line only.”
“Raphael.”
“You received a death threat.”
“I noticed.”
“My security intercepted two men watching the relief base overnight.”
My irritation vanished.
“Who?”
“We don't know yet.”
“You detained them?”
“One fled.”
“And the other?”
He hesitated.
That told me everything.
“Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
“Was he tortured?”
Raphael looked offended.
“Tessa.”
“That is not an answer.”
“No.”
“Good.”
“You have an unusually low opinion of me.”
“You admitted killing three people.”
“Two decades contain nuance.”
I stood.
“Where is my phone?”
He sighed and handed it over.
“Five minutes.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don't.”
I looked at him.
The confidence in his expression disappeared almost immediately.
“Sorry.”
That was becoming his most surprising habit.
I called Pike.
The investigation had moved quickly.
Too quickly.
Fingerprints on the morphine vials were mine.
Of course they were.
They came from hospital stock.
I had handled dozens.
The locker had no forced entry.
Only six people had access to the medical storage tent.
Pike.
Two pharmacists.
Two medics.
And me.
“What about camera footage?” I asked.
“Someone altered the timestamp.”
My stomach tightened.
“How do you know?”
“Mercer found the server log.”
“Can he prove it?”
“Not yet.”
I looked across the room.
Raphael was pretending not to listen.
He was terrible at pretending.
Pike continued.
“There’s more.”
“What?”
“Mira Koirala entered the base two days before you discovered the empty crates.”
“She had access?”
“As logistics coordinator, yes.”
“Could she access my locker?”
“No.”
I looked toward Raphael.
He was already watching me.
“Then someone inside helped her.”
Pike went silent.
That silence scared me.
“Aaron?”
“I’m looking into it.”
The line ended.
That afternoon, one of Raphael’s security technicians recovered deleted messages from the detained watcher’s phone.
Most were coded.
One wasn't.
WARD FALLS. PIKE TAKES BLAME. VESERI LOSES THE CAMP.
I read it twice.
“Pike?”
Raphael stood beside me.
“They're targeting him too.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever runs this operation needs both medical oversight and logistics access discredited.”
I looked at the message.
Ward falls.
Pike takes blame.
Veseri loses the camp.
Three obstacles.
Three removals.
“This is bigger than Luca.”
“Yes.”
“Who above him?”
Raphael’s jaw tightened.
“My uncle.”
I looked up.
“What?”
“Matteo Veseri.”
“You have an uncle involved?”
“I suspected.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“I lacked evidence.”
“That has never stopped anyone in your family before.”
He accepted the hit.
“My father and Matteo built the old routes together.”
“You said you shut them down.”
“I did.”
“And Matteo?”
“Moved overseas. Claimed retirement.”
“You believed him?”
“No.”
“Then why leave him alone?”
Raphael’s eyes hardened.
“Because eight years ago my sister disappeared.”
I went still.
He had mentioned her once.
Never explained.
“Her name?”
“Elena.”
“What happened?”
“We believed she was kidnapped by a rival family.”
“You don't anymore.”
“No.”
He looked toward the mountains.
“Luca was the last person to see her.”
I felt sick.
“You think your uncle—”
“I think Elena discovered something.”
“The trafficking.”
“Possibly.”
“And your father?”
“Died six months later.”
“Natural causes?”
Raphael said nothing.
That answer was enough.
His empire had not simply inherited criminal baggage.
It had been built around buried bodies and unanswered questions.
For the first time, I understood why he had reacted so violently to the missing girls.
This was not abstract.
Somewhere inside him, it was eight years old.
“Did you look for Elena?”
“Every day.”
His voice almost broke on the last word.
Almost.
I touched his hand before thinking.
Raphael stared at my fingers.
So did I.
I withdrew.
“Sorry.”
He smiled faintly.
“You apologize more lately.”
“Don't ruin it.”
That evening, a storm rolled through the valley.
Power flickered.
Raphael was in the medical room changing his dressing when the first alarm sounded.
Not weather.
Security.
A guard shouted from downstairs.
Then gunfire.
Raphael reached for a weapon.
I slapped his hand away.
“You cannot shoot with that shoulder.”
He stared at me.
“You say romantic things.”
“Stay here.”
“Tessa.”
I grabbed my trauma bag.
He grabbed my arm.
“No.”
The word carried real fear.
Not command.
Fear.
Before either of us moved, the lights died.
Darkness swallowed the lodge.
Somewhere below, glass shattered.
Then a man’s voice came through the hallway.
“Major Ward?”
I froze.
He knew exactly where I was.
May you like
And from the darkness behind me, Raphael whispered:
“They're not here for me.”
Related Stories
