Location: Safehouse – 48 Hours After Montauk
Matteo Moretti lay in the infirmary bed, bandaged and wired up. Machines beeped quietly, but his eyes—once kingly, now wild—refused to close.
Isabella sat nearby, silent. Guarded.
"I thought you were dead," she whispered.
Matteo stared at the ceiling. "Death would've been easier than watching you become what I ran from."
She flinched.
"I didn't choose this life," she said softly. "It chose me when Ricci took you."
His eyes narrowed. "And Nico? Allegra? Traitors turned friends?"
"I trust them more than blood now."
Silence.
Then he turned to her—eyes sharp, haunted.
"Then maybe blood is the problem."
---
Elsewhere – War Room
Allegra slammed a tablet on the table.
"They tagged him," she said. "A microchip embedded in his upper spine. Transmits in pulses. Low range but trackable."
Nico paled.
"They let us take him," he muttered. "So they could find us."
Allegra nodded grimly. "And that's not all. His meds—they weren't just sedatives. They were chemical reprogramming."
"Brainwashing," Gianna whispered, standing in the doorway.
Isabella walked in behind her.
"Then we cut it out," she said. "Or we kill the signal before they kill us."
---
Elsewhere – Ricci's Private Fortress
Costanzo stood before a high-resolution monitor. Blinking red dots clustered over the safehouse's coordinates.
"Target's locked," he said.
Ricci swirled his wine.
"Then burn them out."
"But not all of them," Costanzo smirked. "We keep Nico alive. He'll bleed slower if he watches her fall first."
"And Isabella?" Ricci asked.
Costanzo leaned closer to the screen.
"I want to see what kind of monster she becomes... when her father stops seeing her as a daughter and starts seeing her as the enemy."
---
Final Scene – Safehouse Courtyard
Night fell.
Wind howled through broken branches.
Isabella sat on the stone steps, Nico at her side.
She whispered, "He doesn't believe I'm his anymore."
Nico stared straight ahead. "Then prove you're something more."
"How?"
He glanced at her.
"By ending the war your way—not Ricci's. And not your father's."
Inside the house, Matteo stood at the window. Watching them.
His hand trembled.
In his eyes: love. Fear. And something darker.
Something planted.
Something waiting to explode.