Mafia Last Surrender: A Heart Changed by Love

Chapter 12: Inside the Enemy

As Dante fixed his gaze on the television, Giovanni's mocking facial stopped midway-smirk, the room hummed with expectation. The hush was thick, full of the collective breath of people surrounding him. Elena stood close, eyes fixed on the phone, her hand hanging over his arm as though she could sense the tempest building inside him.

Marco moved gingerly, his boots creaking to disrupt the quiet. "Boss, we are ready when you get here.

Dante tapped the tablet and his jaw tightened, muscles coiling. The movie came alive, the sound in the stark room tinny but clear. Giovanni sank back in a high-backed chair, the elaborate décor behind him a sharp contrast to the blood and dust still clinging to Dante's skin.

"Moretti," Giovanni's voice was almost bored, slick. I will say you have always been a man of resilience. Resilience without foresight, however? Well, that is simply an endurance game, not anything else. And games, friend, feature winners and losers.

He stopped, wicked pleasure blazing in his eyes. "I wonder, how well do you really know your own empire? How many of those who swear loyalty do so with their fingers crossed behind their backs?"

Dante's blood ran cold, a realization settling like lead in his gut. He knew Giovanni's mind games, the way he played with half-truths and psychological warfare, but this felt different. individual. Elena shifted beside him, her eyes darting from the video to Dante's face.

"Tick-tock, Moretti. The clock's ticking, and you're running out of time." Giovanni leaned forward, his smile widening. "Trust is such a fragile thing, isn't it?"

The screen went black, the silence that followed sharper than any blade.

Marco's brow furrowed as he exchanged a wary glance with Enzo. "Boss, what does he mean by that? Is he just trying to rattle us, or…?"

Dante's gaze swept the room, reading the tension in his men's postures, the flickers of uncertainty. Trust was the foundation of his power, but doubt-doubt was poison. And Giovanni knew exactly how to wield it.

"Check everyone," Dante ordered, his voice cold and commanding. "Every communication, every movement in the last week. I want eyes on anything that looks out of place."

Enzo nodded, the set of his jaw tight. "Understood."

As the men moved to carry out his orders, Dante felt Elena's eyes on him. She stepped closer, her voice low enough that only he could hear. "You think there's really someone on the inside?"

He didn't answer immediately, the weight of the possibility pressing down on him like a vice. The idea that one of his own might be playing both sides wasn't just a risk-it was a betrayal that could shatter everything he'd built.

"We'll find out," he said, more to convince himself than her.

The hours stretched on, the safehouse a hive of quiet tension. Men shuffled through documents, pored over call logs, and whispered updates that rippled through the ranks like echoes of the fight they'd just survived. The sun had begun its slow descent, casting long, sharp shadows that crept across the floor.

Dante sat at the table, his eyes scanning a series of reports, the numbers and words blurring as exhaustion set in. Elena moved around him, bringing him water, checking on the others, her presence a steadying force amid the storm. But even she couldn't mask the unease that settled over them all.

"Dante." Enzo's voice was sharp, cutting through the low murmur of the room.

Dante looked up, catching the look in Enzo's eyes-a mixture of disbelief and something darker. He motioned for Dante to follow him into the adjoining room, away from the prying eyes and ears of the others.

Elena hesitated, her gaze shifting between them. "What is it?"

"It's better if you stay here," Enzo said, but the concern in his voice made it clear he didn't expect her to listen.

Dante gave a brief nod, signaling that he'd handle it. He followed Enzo into the room, closing the door behind them. The dim light cast harsh shadows across Enzo's face as he handed over a small file, the paper crumpled at the edges from where it had been clutched too tightly.

Dante scanned the page, each word striking like a physical blow. The name that stood out among the rest made his stomach churn.

"It's Luca," Enzo said, the words laced with disbelief. "He's been in contact with Giovanni's men for weeks. The evidence is solid-texts, intercepted calls, movement reports. He's been feeding them our plans."

Dante's vision tunneled, the edges of the room blurring as rage and betrayal surged in equal measure. Luca. One of his own, a man he'd trusted, a man who had bled for the empire. The realization clawed at his chest, hot and relentless.

"Where is he?" Dante's voice was low, dangerous.

Enzo shifted, eyes hard. "We have him in the lower room. He doesn't know we're onto him yet."

Dante nodded, the cold calm of action settling over him. "Bring him up. We do this now."

Luca stood in the center of the room, his posture deceptively casual, a smirk playing at the edges of his mouth. But his eyes darted nervously, catching the way Dante's men circled him, silent and watchful.

"Boss," Luca said, the word sliding out as if they were still on familiar ground. "What's this about? Some kind of meeting I wasn't told about?"

Dante stepped forward, the space between them shrinking to a thin thread of tension. He didn't speak immediately, letting the silence stretch, letting Luca feel the weight of every eye in the room.

"You tell me, Luca," Dante said finally, his voice smooth as ice. "What exactly have you been telling Giovanni?"

The smirk faltered, replaced by a flicker of panic. He recovered quickly, but it was too late. The room was a predator's circle, and Luca was prey.

"Giovanni?" Luca laughed, but the sound was strained. "You're joking, right? I'd never-"

"Enough." Dante's voice cut through the room, silencing him. He stepped closer, so close that Luca had to tilt his head back to meet his eyes. "We found the calls, the messages. Don't insult me by denying it."

For a moment, Luca's mask slipped, and the raw panic beneath it showed. But then he straightened, a bitter resignation settling in his eyes. "You think loyalty is bought, Dante? That fear keeps men by your side? Giovanni offered me more than just threats. He offered freedom."

"Freedom," Dante repeated, the word tasting like ash. "And what did that freedom cost? The lives of your brothers? The empire that gave you everything?"

Luca's eyes flashed with anger. "It cost me my conscience! You think we follow you blindly? You think we don't see what you're becoming, what you're willing to sacrifice for control?"

The room tensed, the words striking chords that reverberated through the air. Dante's jaw clenched, the rage bubbling beneath the surface threatening to boil over.

"You chose your side," Dante said, stepping back, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. "And now, you'll face the consequences."

He signaled to Enzo, who moved forward, the grim duty in his eyes clear. Luca's bravado shattered, replaced by wide-eyed panic as he was dragged from the room, his shouts echoing down the hall.

The silence that followed was heavy, each man in the room left to grapple with the betrayal they'd just witnessed. Dante turned, catching Elena's gaze across the room. Her expression was unreadable, a mix of understanding and sorrow that struck deeper than he expected.

"You did what you had to do," she said quietly, stepping closer.

"But at what cost?" Dante replied, the words barely more than a whisper. The question hung between them, an echo of Giovanni's taunt and the doubt that gnawed at the edges of his resolve.

Before she could answer, a sudden knock at the door jolted them both back to the present. Marco stood there, his face pale, eyes wide with urgency.

"Boss, there's more," he said, breathless. "It's not over. Giovanni just sent a message. He knows we found Luca-and he's making his next move."

Dante's fists clenched, the promise of war settling in his chest like a stone. The fight wasn't just at his door; it was inside his walls, threatening to tear everything apart.

And as he met Elena's eyes, the reality of the battle ahead crystallized. Trust was indeed a fragile thing, and now, every choice he made would test it to its breaking point.