Chapter 2

• Chapter 2
• {CATERINA}
• My father leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled beneath his chin, eyes locked onto mine. The weight of his stare was suffocating, heavy with expectation. I sat across from him, legs crossed, expression unreadable. I’d learned a long time ago not to give him more than what he needed.
• “This job is simple,” he said, his voice smooth but firm. “An artifact. Expensive.”
• I didn’t react, though I noted the slight shift in his tone. Expensive? That was too vague. He wasn’t telling me something, but that was nothing new.
• “What’s the plan?” I asked.
• He slid a file across the table. “Everything you need to know is in there.”
• I didn’t reach for it immediately. Instead, I met his gaze. “And the target?”
• “Alessandro Rodriguez. Businessman. Import and export. Owns clubs all over the country. You’ll find him at Midnight Echelon tomorrow.”
• Still vague. That meant there was more, something he didn’t want me to ask about. I could press, but it wouldn’t get me anywhere. I nodded, taking the file and standing.
• “Don’t fail me, Caterina.”
• I turned without a word and walked out of his office.
• ---
• In my room, I tossed the file onto the bed, rolling my shoulders to ease the tension. The walls around me were dark, lined with shelves stacked with books, weapons, and souvenirs from past missions. A single lamp cast a dim glow across the space, illuminating the mess I hadn’t bothered to clean up.
• I grabbed the file and flipped it open, scanning the details.
• Alessandro Rodriguez. Age: 32. Height: 6’4. Nationality: Italian-American.
• A couple of pictures were clipped to the side, each capturing him in different places—exiting a car, seated in a club, shaking hands with some unknown figure. The man oozed power. His sharp jawline and piercing hazel eyes weren’t just for show; they spoke of control, of someone who never needed to ask twice.
• Then, there was a note at the bottom.
• Rodriguez will be at Midnight Echelon tomorrow. Don Gio was tipped off.
• Tipped off. By who? And why?
• I closed the file, exhaling. There were too many unknowns, and I hated unknowns.
• A knock sounded at my door, and I already knew who it was.
• “Come in.”
• Shadow strolled inside, holding two protein bars and tossing one at me. “What’s the mission?”
• I caught it with ease, peeling the wrapper off. “Artifact. Some mask. My father won’t say more.”
• Shadow raised a brow as she dropped onto my bed. “That means it’s important.”
• “Yeah.” I took a bite of the bar, chewing as I thought. “I’ll be meeting Rodriguez at Midnight Echelon. He’s the one with the mask.”
• “Rodriguez?” Shadow whistled low. “That’s a big name. You’re not just walking into a den of wolves, Cat. You’re walking straight into the jaws of the alpha.”
• I smirked. “I can handle it.”
• She smirked back. “I know you can. But still, be careful.”
• I nodded, then stood, walking toward my closet. “I need something that’ll make him look twice.”
• Shadow flopped back on the bed. “Something lethal, then.”
• I rifled through the hangers, fingers brushing over silks and velvets, until I landed on the perfect dress—a gold one, sleek and shimmering. It would catch the light in just the right way, drawing the eye exactly where I wanted it.
• I set it aside, then turned to my vanity, picking up a pair of earrings. They were simple, elegant, but embedded inside was something more—an earpiece, linked directly to Shadow. No one would suspect a thing.
• Next, the lipstick. A deep red, bold but classic. I twisted the tube, eyeing the creamy pigment, knowing what lay beneath. A single touch to the right spot would release the drug inside, potent enough to disorient but not kill.
• Everything was in place.
• I met my own gaze in the mirror. My platinum silver hair was a beacon, but I wouldn’t hide it tonight. Let him notice me. Let him wonder.
• Because once he did, he wouldn’t be able to look away.
• ---
• Midnight Echelon pulsed with life, a beast made of light and sound. Bodies moved in hypnotic rhythm under the strobe lights, laughter and conversation weaving into the bass-heavy music.
• I slipped through the entrance effortlessly, the bouncer not even sparing me a glance. The club’s interior was a perfect blend of opulence and shadow—dark leather seating, golden accents, and a bar stocked with the finest liquors. High above, a massive chandelier cast fractured light over the main floor.
• I walked with purpose, my heels clicking against the marble floor, cutting through the haze of alcohol and cigarette smoke. I didn’t need to search for him. He wasn’t here yet.
• Good. That meant I had time.
• I chose a table near the private lounges, positioning myself perfectly within view but not desperate for attention. The bartender arrived, and I ordered a drink, not to drink, but to hold—to play the part.
• A flicker in my ear. Shadow’s voice.
• “Positioning is solid. You’ll be the first thing he sees when he walks in.”
• “Perfect,” I murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.
• Seconds stretched into minutes. The anticipation coiled in my stomach, not out of nerves, but because I was ready. The hunt had begun.
• And then—
• A shift. A subtle change in the energy of the room.
• I didn’t look immediately, didn’t turn too fast. Instead, I kept my focus on the rim of my glass, swirling the amber liquid inside. But I knew.
• He was here.
• Alessandro Rodriguez stepped into the club like he owned it, but unlike most men who carried power, he wasn’t performing. He wasn’t searching, surveying, scanning. He was already moving with purpose, his stride direct as he approached a private booth.
• His attention was locked on a man, his mind already deep in whatever business had brought him here. He hadn’t even glanced at the crowd.
• He hadn’t glanced at me.
• The man he approached—older, sharply dressed, with the air of someone used to control—greeted him with a firm handshake before they slid into a booth, their conversation immediate and serious.
• I tilted my glass, feigning indifference, but my eyes stayed on them. The older man—whoever he was—had a briefcase beside him. Halfway through their conversation, he lifted it onto the table, unlatched it, and turned it toward Alessandro.
• I couldn’t see what was inside.
• But whatever it was, it kept Alessandro’s focus locked. He leaned in slightly, fingers drumming once against the table before he gave a short nod. The older man’s expression remained unreadable, but after another exchange of words, he stood, clasped Alessandro’s hand once more, and left.
• I waited.
• Alessandro didn’t move right away. He sat back, exhaling slowly, rolling his wrist like he was easing some unseen tension. He reached for his drink, finally taking a slow sip. Only then did his companion—a man I recognized from the file as Luca—lean toward him and say something low.
• Alessandro frowned, clearly uninterested at first. But then, after a moment, he finally followed Luca’s gaze.
• And it led straight to me.
• Our eyes met.
• The moment stretched between us, taut and charged. He wasn’t distracted before. But now?
• Now, I had his attention.