Page 65 of The Assassin's Captive
"Where did you get this?"
"That's not important. What's important is what it represents. You've been watched, Serena. Studied. Evaluated. Long before Lorenzo was sent to find you."
She looks up from the photograph, her composure cracking further. "Why?"
"Because knowledge is power. And you possess knowledge that certain people find valuable."
"I don't know anything that?—"
"You know how the system works. You know its weaknesses. You know who can be bought and who can't be intimidated." Emilio leans back in his chair. "More importantly, you know how to exploit those weaknesses legally." He's on the prowl now, hunting for her weakness, like a predator ready to pounce on its unsuspecting victim.
The implication settles over the room. Emilio isn't revealing her parentage—he's offering her a position, a role in his organization that would legitimize his operations while destroying everything she's worked to build.
"You want me to help you corrupt the system I've spent my career trying to fix."
"I want you to help me navigate a system that's already corrupt. The difference is significant." As he speaks, he lifts his glass and tips it at her in an action marking his point. One eyebrow rises as he waits for her to think things through.
Before Serena can respond, a sharp knock interrupts the conversation. Emilio's expression doesn't change, but I see the subtle tension that enters his shoulders.
"Enter."
One of his men steps into the room—Carlo Benedetti, a thin man with nervous energy and darting eyes. He approaches Emilio's chair but doesn't sit.
"Forgive the interruption, Don Costa. But there's been a development."
Emilio's gaze flicks to me, then back to Carlo. "Speak."
"Someone followed the car here. We spotted the tail two blocks out and intercepted."
My blood goes cold. I'd checked for surveillance, swept the route twice. If someone had managed to follow us here, they were professional. Extremely professional.
"Who?"
"Unknown. But he left this." Carlo withdraws a manila envelope from his jacket. "Said to give it to you directly."
Emilio takes the envelope without opening it immediately. Instead, he studies Carlo's face, reading information that isn't being spoken aloud.
"And the man?"
"Gone. Disappeared into the crowd near Campo de' Fiori before we could nab him."
Emilio waves his hand, dismissing Carlo with a gesture. The man retreats, closing the door behind him. Only then does Emilio open the envelope.
Inside is a single photograph. Even from across the room, I can see it clearly—Serena walking near the courthouse, briefcase in hand, her hair caught by the wind. The image was taken with a telephoto lens from a significant distance, which means whoever took it was set up waiting for her. It's this sort of thing that really riles me up. I know they've been watching, but it puts me on edge.
Emilio studies the photograph for a long moment, then looks at me. His pale eyes hold a message I understand immediately. This isn't random surveillance. This is a threat.
"Serena," he says quietly. "I think you need some air."
She opens her mouth to protest, but I step forward. "There's a terrace through the side door. You can see the street from there."
She looks between us, recognizing the dismissal but also sensing the shift in atmosphere. After a moment, she stands and moves toward the door I indicated. I watch her shoulders droop as she sighs, and then she's gone, leaving me alone with Emilio Costa.
He sets the photograph on the table next to the first one, arranging them so they're perfectly aligned. When he looks up at me, his expression has changed completely. The polite façade is gone, replaced by the cold calculation that has kept him alive for years.
"How many people knew you were bringing her here?"
"No one. I made the decision an hour ago."
