The silence that followed my declaration was heavier than any I had ever known. Diego's eyes, usually pools of impenetrable darkness, now flickered with a storm of emotions: suspicion, disbelief, and a sliver of something I dared to hope was trust. He circled me slowly, like a predator assessing its prey.
"If this is a game, Carmela," he said, his voice dangerously low, "you've chosen a dangerous one to play."
"It's not a game, Diego," I insisted, my voice trembling but resolute. "My father… Don Carlo has leverage over him. I was supposed to be your spy, feed him information from the inside. But I swear, I didn't know he was planning this."
He stopped his pacing, his gaze fixed on mine. "And what changed? Why betray your own family?"
I hesitated, the truth a bitter pill to swallow. "Because I realized that whether I liked it or not, I'm your wife now. And if you die, I'm collateral damage. Besides," I added, meeting his intense gaze, "I'm not sure I want you dead anymore."
A ghost of a smile played on his lips. "Intriguing. But words are cheap, Carmela. You'll have to prove your loyalty."
"How?" I asked, my heart pounding.
"By helping me turn the tables on my dear uncle," he replied, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. "We're going to give him exactly what he wants… or what he thinks he wants."
The next few hours were a whirlwind of frantic planning. Diego, a man transformed, moved with a ruthless efficiency I had only glimpsed before. He barked orders, made calls, and orchestrated a counter-attack with chilling precision. I watched, mesmerized and terrified, as he transformed our opulent bedroom into a war room.
"The hit is scheduled for midnight," Diego explained, spreading a map of the estate on the mahogany desk. "Carlo's men will come through the north gate. We'll be waiting for them."
"What about the guards?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
"Loyal to me," he said, a hint of pride in his voice. "I've already taken care of those who might be tempted to side with my uncle."
As the clock ticked closer to midnight, the tension in the room became almost unbearable. Diego armed himself, strapping a holster to his thigh and checking his gun with practiced ease. He moved with a quiet confidence that both reassured and intimidated me.
"Are you ready for this, Carmela?" he asked, his eyes searching mine.
"No," I admitted, "but I'm with you."
He nodded, a flicker of something akin to gratitude in his eyes. "Stay close," he said, grabbing my hand. "And trust me."
We moved through the darkened corridors of the mansion, the silence broken only by the rhythmic thump of my heart. As we approached the north gate, I could hear the distant rumble of engines. The attack was imminent.
Diego positioned me behind a thick stone pillar, shielding me from the line of fire. "Stay here," he ordered, his voice firm. "No matter what happens."
I nodded, my throat tight with fear. I watched as he stepped out into the open, a lone figure silhouetted against the moonlight.
The first shots rang out, shattering the silence and plunging the estate into chaos. Bullets whizzed past me, ricocheting off the stone pillar. I huddled behind it, my hands clamped over my ears, trying to block out the sounds of gunfire and screams.
Then, as suddenly as it began, the shooting stopped. A tense silence descended, broken only by the crackling of a nearby fire. I peeked out from behind the pillar, my eyes wide with fear.
Diego stood in the center of the courtyard, surrounded by the bodies of Carlo's men. He was unharmed, his face grim, his gun still smoking. He looked like a warrior, a king surveying his fallen enemies.
As I watched him, I realized that I had crossed a line. There was no going back. I was now inextricably linked to Diego Moretti, bound by blood and betrayal. And as he turned to face me, his eyes filled with a mixture of triumph and something else… something I couldn't quite decipher… I knew that my life would never be the same again.
"It's over," he said, his voice hoarse. "For now."
But I knew that this was just the beginning. The war had just begun, and I was now on the front lines. And as I stepped out from behind the pillar and into the arms of the man I had sworn to betray, I couldn't help but wonder if I had made the right choice.
The night was far from over. As the cleanup began, Diego received a call. His expression hardened as he listened, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the phone.
"They got to my father," he said, his voice a low growl. "Carlo's men ambushed him on his way home."
A wave of guilt washed over me. This was my fault. If I hadn't warned Diego, his father might still be alive.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, my eyes filling with tears.
He looked at me, his expression unreadable. "This isn't your fault, Carmela. This is war. And in war, innocent people get hurt."
But I knew that wasn't true. I was far from innocent. I was a spy, a liar, and a traitor. And now, I was also responsible for the death of a man I had never met.
Diego turned away, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "I need to go," he said. "I need to take care of this."
"Can I come with you?" I asked, my voice barely audible.
He hesitated, then nodded. "Yes," he said. "I think you should."
And so, we left the estate, leaving behind the carnage and the ghosts of the night. As we drove through the darkened streets of Chicago, I couldn't help but wonder where this road would lead us. Would it lead to redemption? Or to destruction? Only time would tell. But one thing was certain: our lives were forever changed.