And I'd believed him. Or at least, I'd learned to stop asking. I'd repressed all of it. The memory of my parents, of their love, of who I was before Jerzy remade me into the Red Widow.
I crawl back to bed, my legs barely supporting me. The mission briefing about the Santoros plays in my mind now, crystal clear. Jerzy's voice, cold and precise: "Infiltrate. Gain trust. Destroy from within."
The plan had been meticulously crafted. I was to be "found" in a shipping container, beaten and branded to appear as one of Nicolosi's victims. The Santoro brothers, known for their hatred of sex traffickers, would take me in. I'd play the vulnerable victim, while gathering intelligence on their operations, their weaknesses, their secrets.
Then, when the moment was right, I'd destroy them all.
"The youngest one first," Jerzy had instructed. "Then the heir. Save Angelo for last. Make him watch as everything he loves burns. As he fails to protect them all."
I was supposed to be their destruction.
Instead, I've developed feelings for Angelo.
The realisation hits like a physical blow, leaving me gasping in the darkness. I care for him. Not just his body, not just the safety he provides, buthim. His quiet strength. His unwavering loyalty. The way he looks at me like I'm something precious despite knowing I'm broken.
I have feelings for a man I was sent to destroy.
I press my hands against my mouth to stifle the sob that tears from my throat. I can't stay. I'll destroy everything, everyone. It's what I was made for. It's what I do.
The decision crystallises in my mind with painful clarity. I have to leave. Now. Before Angelo returns. Before I have to look into his eyes and lie again. Before Jerzy activates whatever contingency plan he surely has in place.
My hands shake as I pack a bag, muscle memory taking over. I raid Angelo's weapons cache first, selecting a Glock and a tactical knife. Next, his safe for cash. The combination easy for someone with my training to crack. Then clean clothes, essentials only. Just like every other mission.
But this isn't a mission. This is running. From my feelings, from the truth of what I am. From Angelo.
No, not from Angelo.ForAngelo.
I can't be the instrument of his destruction. I won't be. The only way to protect him, to protect all of them, is to remove myself from the equation.
And then? Then I find Jerzy. I make him pay for what he did. To my family, to me, to all the others he's broken and used over the years.
I pause at Angelo's desk, pulling out a sheet of paper. My pen hovers over it as I try to find the words to explain. To apologise. To say goodbye.
Angelo,
By the time you read this, I'll be gone. I'm not who you think I am. I'm not even who I thought I was.
I was sent to destroy you. Instead, I found myself falling—
I crumple the note in my fist. No explanations. Better to let Angelo hate me than know the truth. Better for him to think I've run away than to know I was sent to kill him. At least that way, he might not come looking for me. He might be safe.
I zip the bag shut and sling it over my shoulder, taking one last look around the room that has been my sanctuary these past weeks. My eyes land on the bed where Angelo held me through nightmares, where he taught me to trust again, where I began to feel human after years of being nothing but a weapon.
Footsteps up the stairs freeze me in place. Heavy, deliberate footsteps that I'd recognise anywhere. My heart pounds as I turn toward the stairs.
Angelo fills the stairway, his broad shoulders blocking any exit. His eyes take in the scene in an instant, the packed bag, the weapons, me poised for flight. His expression hardens, dark eyes glittering dangerously in the dim light.
"Where are you going?" His voice is low, controlled, but with an undercurrent that raises the hair on the back of my neck.
I could lie. I could say I'm scared, that I need space, that I'm overwhelmed. I could spin a story he might believe long enough for me to slip away. The Red Widow would do exactly that. Manipulate, deceive, escape.
But as I look into Angelo's eyes, I find I can't. Not anymore. Not with him.
"To kill my father," I say, the truth spilling out as soon as our eyes lock.
33
KASIA