Page 21 of Torn By Fate

I didn’t answer; I didn’t need to.

The whiskey in my glass trembled slightly. Rage and betrayal lived beneath my skin—a living, breathing thing that pulsed through my veins like poison. I set the glass down carefully, controlling the tremor in my hand through sheer force of will.

Vincenzo watched me with keen interest, a predator studying wounded prey. His amusement was palpable, almost tangible in the narrow space between us.

I didn’t say anything, didn’t find the need to respond to his jab.

A moment of silence passed between us, and when he realized I wasn’t going to take the bait, he chuckled. A low, deep laugh that vibrated through his chest.

He reached for his drink and downed the rest of his whiskey in one single gulp. He placed the glass back down with a solid thud and wiped his mouth.

“Someone is following your wife,” Vincenzo said suddenly, his tone shifting from mocking to matter-of-fact.

I didn’t react like he expected me to. My expression remained neutral, and I simply nodded once, a short, sharp acknowledgment that told him I already knew.

Because I did.

I had seen the man.

Four days ago, outside the small hotel where Serafina had been staying, a cheap, forgettable place that relied on anonymity rather than luxury.

I had been watching from across the street, parked in a black sedan with tinted windows, my binoculars trained on her window on the second floor.

I had been reveling in the fact that I found my wife.

And there he was.

A man I didn’t recognize. Not one of my soldiers that Rocco had deployed across the continent to track her movements.

It was a stranger. Mid-thirties, lean build, dark jacket, hands in his pockets, and standing across the street in perfect stillness. Waiting. Watching.

He moved like a ghost, with the skilled patience of someone who had done this before.

I had watched him follow her that evening when she left the hotel. He maintained a careful distance. Fifty meters, maybe sixty—moving when she moved, stopping when she stopped, blending into the crowd with practiced ease.

He was good, not an amateur.

But he quickly caught on that I had discovered him. So he changed tactics. He stopped following Serafina and tried to disappear so I wouldn’t be able to follow his tracks.

Unfortunately, because I had been distracted by him… I once again lost my wife.

She had moved hotels before I knew it. Now, she was gone… and here I was, in a bar, with Vincenzo.

My chest tightened at the memory. My wife, the woman who had put a bullet in me, was being stalked by a man whose intentions I couldn’t yet determine.

The irony wasn’t lost on me.

“I know,” I finally said, my voice flat. “I’ve seen him.”

Vincenzo’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. The scar twisted as his expression shifted, the half-sneer deepening. “You’ve seen him?”

“I’ve been watching her for almost two weeks.” I moved the glass between my fingers. “He showed up four days ago, keeping his distance but following her every move. He’s not one of mine.”

Vincenzo’s smirk returned. “He’s been tailing her longer than that. He was in Prague before she moved to Brussels.”

“How do you know?” I asked, my voice dropping low. The question had been sitting on my tongue since he’d mentioned it, a splinter of suspicion that I couldn’t ignore.

The Castellano made up the Cosa Nostra with the rest of the families. But I didn’t know how much I could trust its heir.