The news anchor's voice carried an unsettling calmness, the kind that sent chills down the spine. Her expression was carefully neutral, yet her eyes betrayed the gravity of the situation.
"Breaking news — a chilling discovery has rocked the city. Multiple bodies, all linked to the elusive assassin known only as 'Vesper,' have been found across different parts of town. Authorities have confirmed that while the bodies were recently discovered, the victims were killed on separate days, one by one, before being strategically hidden."
The screen shifted from the newsroom to live footage of crime scenes — grim alleyways, abandoned warehouses, and even a quiet suburban home. Police tape stretched across the entrances, and forensic teams moved in and out in sterile suits.
"According to forensic reports, the victims all bear Vesper's infamous signature — a distinctive blade engraved with the letter 'V' plunged directly into the heart. Investigators believe these murders may have been committed over the course of the past month, but the bodies were only recently uncovered."
A shaky video, likely captured by a bystander, showed authorities wheeling body bags out of a narrow alley. The dim lighting cast unsettling shadows on the walls, giving the impression that something sinister still lingered there.
"The assassin's pattern remains consistent — each kill occurred at midnight, leaving behind no trace aside from the weapon. Police sources indicate that several of the victims had known connections to organized crime, raising questions about whether these killings were targeted hits or part of a larger power struggle."
The camera cut back to the newsroom, where the anchor's face hardened.
"Law enforcement urges citizens to remain vigilant. Authorities are working closely with local crime families, though as of now, there are no known suspects tied directly to Vesper's identity. Anyone with information is encouraged to step forward."
The segment ended with a close-up image of the infamous blade — sharp, sleek, and engraved with the haunting letter 'V.' Blood still stained the steel, a grim reminder that Vesper's shadow lingered just out of reach.
In the silence that followed, Mr. Russo and Mr. Moretti exchanged a heavy glance.
"He's not just sending a message," Mr. Moretti muttered. "He's hunting."
The room was dimly lit, the flickering light from the television screen dancing across the stern faces of Mr. Russo and Mr. Moretti. Both men sat in silence, their eyes locked on the news broadcast.
Mr. Russo's grip tightened around his glass, knuckles whitening. "He's getting worse."
"He's not just killing anymore," Mr. Moretti muttered darkly. "He's playing with us… sending a message."
"The media's eating this up," Mr. Russo growled. "They're making him out to be some legend."
"Because no one can catch him," Mr. Moretti added bitterly.
The weight of the situation hung thick in the room. These weren't just random victims — some had ties to the underground world, connections to their own networks. Vesper's hits were methodical, calculated — and the growing body count was impossible to ignore.
"I'll call for Valerio," Mr. Russo finally said, pulling out his phone. "He needs to know."
Mr. Moretti's voice dropped lower, almost hesitant. "And Alessia…"
Mr. Russo's gaze darkened. "We'll keep her out of this for now."
But deep down, both men knew Vesper's shadow was creeping closer — and sooner or later, no one would be able to outrun it.
Oblivious to the recent news, Leona's pov
The morning air and sunlight filtering lazily through the trees as Leona quietly slipped out of the Moretti estate. The nurse had just finished checking on Alessia, mentioning her due date was approaching faster than expected. The news had drawn everyone's attention — Valerio and Dante were already busy investigating, Mr. Russo and Mr. Moretti were discussing security plans, and the house was bustling with murmurs of concern. It was the perfect chance for Leona to slip away unnoticed.
She knew Valerio wouldn't have allowed her to leave alone, but she wasn't in the mood to deal with his protective instincts right now. Her apartment wasn't far, and she needed her things — some clothes, essentials, and maybe her favorite old journal she hadn't touched in weeks.
The city streets were busier than usual, yet Leona walked with a strange sense of calm. For the past month, her life had been a whirlwind — constant tension at the Moretti estate, Valerio's confusing presence, and now Alessia's unspoken fears weighing heavily on her mind. It felt good to step away, even if only for a little while.
Unlocking her apartment door, Leona paused. The air inside was stale, and dust had started to collect on the surfaces. It felt oddly distant — like she was stepping into someone else's home. She pushed the feeling aside and headed straight to her bedroom.
Her bed was still unmade, the comforter bunched up at the foot. Her dresser held half-open drawers from when she'd rushed to pack a bag for the Moretti estate weeks ago. She sighed, pulling her duffel from the closet.
"Okay… toothbrush, pajamas… shirts," she muttered to herself as she started collecting her things.
Memories flickered in her mind — Valerio's rare smile when she teased him, Dante's persistent teasing, Alessia's sudden bursts of laughter. The estate had grown chaotic, but oddly… comforting. Yet here, in her silent apartment, she felt a strange disconnect.
Her eyes landed on a framed photo on her nightstand — one from her early days at the bar, laughing with coworkers. She smiled faintly but didn't pick it up. Things felt so different now.
She grabbed her journal next, fingers hesitating at the worn leather cover. So many thoughts were scribbled inside — about Valerio, about Vesper's recent kills, about her uncertainties with Alessia's situation. A lump formed in her throat, but she pushed it down and tossed the journal into her bag.
The sound of footsteps outside startled her. She froze, heart thudding in her chest.
It's nothing… just a neighbor.
Still, her fingers instinctively curled around her phone. She peeked out the window and relaxed when she saw an older man walking his dog.
Exhaling shakily, she continued packing.
Leona moved to her small kitchen next, grabbing a few snacks to keep in her room back at the estate — chocolate bars, some instant coffee packs. The familiar sight of her homey clutter eased her nerves.
She turned back to her living room, scanning for anything else she might need. Her gaze lingered on the window — the one Valerio had once stood by when he'd picked her up for work months ago. She chuckled softly.
Maybe I should've just told him I was coming here…
Her smile faltered. What if he'd stopped caring? What if her constant rejections had finally made him give up? The thought twisted uncomfortably in her chest.
"Ugh, stop overthinking," she muttered, zipping her duffel shut.
She was halfway out the door when she paused again. Something about her apartment — the quietness, the dust — felt unsettling. She had always lived alone, yet today she felt oddly… watched.
You're just being paranoid, she told herself.
Still, her pace quickened as she locked the door and hurried down the stairwell. The cold air hit her face like a splash of water. Shoving her hands in her pockets, she walked briskly back toward the estate.
By the time she reached the gates, Leona felt relieved. The guards gave her a look — one part warning, one part amusement — but they didn't stop her. They knew Valerio would be furious if anyone delayed her.
Leona sighed, rolling her shoulders back. She'd gotten what she needed, and nothing had happened.
But the nagging feeling lingered — like something had shifted. Something dark… and she didn't even know it yet.
Leona returned to the Moretti estate, her bag slung over her shoulder. The evening air felt colder than usual, and the faintest shiver ran down her spine. Dismissing the feeling, she quietly stepped inside, hoping to sneak past anyone who might question where she'd been. However, sharp voices from Valerio's office made her pause.
Curiosity — or perhaps instinct — pulled her closer. The door was slightly ajar, just enough for her to catch their urgent words.
"Salvatore's men have been moving closer," Mr. Russo's deep voice growled. "Those bodies — they were De Luca's."
Leona's fingers tightened around her bag strap. Bodies?
"He's retaliating," Dante muttered grimly. "I bet he's using those deaths to send a message — but why like this? One kill a night? Vesper doesn't work for De Luca."
Valerio's voice, quieter yet more intense, cut through the tension. "But De Luca's people were the ones who ended up in the morgue. He's going to blame us regardless. That bastard's manipulating the entire situation, playing the victim."
"And if he finds out about Alessia…" Mr. Moretti's voice lowered, barely audible.
Leona's breath hitched. Find out what?
"I'm more concerned about Leona," Valerio added darkly. "She's been out of the estate more than usual, and if De Luca's watching…"
Leona's stomach twisted. The weight of his words hit her hard — the sudden paranoia, the unsettling presence she'd felt at her apartment… it wasn't in her head. Someone had been watching her.
Before she could piece things together, her bag slipped from her hand, thudding softly against the floor.
The conversation inside stopped. A chair scraped back, and moments later, Valerio opened the door, his sharp gaze locking onto hers.
"Leona…" His voice softened, but the tension in his posture remained.
"What's going on?" she asked, her voice quieter than she intended. "What do you mean De Luca's men… and — bodies?"
Valerio exchanged a glance with Dante, who sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.
"We didn't want to worry you," Valerio finally said. "But you need to be careful."
"Careful?" Leona let out a dry laugh. "I'm living in a house filled with mafia heirs, yet you think I'll suddenly panic over some vague threat?"
Valerio stepped closer, his expression hardening. "It's not vague, Leona. Someone's been following you."
Her breath caught. "What?"
"When you left for your apartment," Dante added grimly, "one of our men noticed someone near your building. They didn't make a move, but it wasn't a coincidence."
Leona swallowed hard, her earlier unease now making horrifying sense. "You should've told me," she muttered.
"And have you panic?" Valerio's voice sharpened. "We're handling it."
"Like you're handling Alessia?" The words escaped before she could stop them.
The room went silent. Valerio's expression darkened, but before he could reply, Leona shook her head.
"Forget it." Her voice wavered. "Just… be honest with me next time."
She turned and hurried down the hall, her pulse pounding. Whatever game De Luca was playing, she knew one thing — she wasn't going to sit back and wait to be a target.