Page 22 of The Don's Deadly Assassin

But I hesitate. The way Vincenzo looks at me makes me hesitate. I come face to face with an impossible choice – am I willing to break rank?

Is there really another path I could take? Is there another possibility here?

Could I really be another person, someone different from whom the Handler trained me to be? At least when I’m with the Don Vincenzo Consolini?

My vision blurs, and the sounds of the night, which I am usually so attuned to, fade into the background, replaced by the pounding of my blood in my ears.

Something is wrong. I gasp for breath, struggling to comprehend the rapidly shifting feelings that threaten to overwhelm me. Panic sets in; I wasn’t trained for this – whatever it is.

"Camela, what is going on?" Vincenzo's voice sounds distant as if he's calling out to me from across a vast expanse.

"V-Vincenzo, I..." What can I say? How can I explain the maelstrom of emotions churning within me, threatening to tear me apart?

An apology forms on my lips, but it feels inadequate, unable to capture the depth of my confusion. "I'm so sorry. I have to go."

"Wait, Camela!" he calls out, reaching for my arm as I wrench myself from his grasp. I can see the bewilderment in his eyes, but I can't let him get any closer.

Not until I’m ready to explain. Not when I’m here to kill him.

With every step I take, retreating towards the mansion, my breathing grows more ragged, and the chaos in my mind swells.

I know I must escape; I must find some way to regain control over my emotions, my mission, and my very self.

I hastily slip away through the bustling crowd. Camela, you just might have made the biggest mistake of your life.

Chapter 7

Vincenzo

I sit in the silence of the empty gardens. The party has long ended, and it is early morning. I am exhausted and should get some rest, but my weary mind and heavy heart won’t let me.

The moon casts a silvery glow over the wings of the rising Phoenix marble statue opposite me.

But its eyes are cast in shadow, lending it a dark glare that makes it almost seem alive, as if determined to rise from the ashes right this moment. It's befitting after everything that has happened tonight.

The professor’s words ring in my mind as if he had spoken them to me personally. At first, I thought nothing of the e-mails my tech guy had unearthed.

In fact, I was very close to firing him; his call held me up, and so I failed to follow when my enchanting company up and fled, quite literally.

I wanted to wring the man’s neck through the phone. Why could some digital files with unsent communication not wait until tomorrow?

He said something about recovering them from the recycling bin, even after the bin was emptied. I don’t know the details—that is what I pay him for.

However, the professor’s anguish in those messages made me pay full attention rather quickly.

‘Vincenzo, my dear friend, I fear I've stumbled upon something that could be perilous if it falls into the wrong hands. Be cautious, for we never know who might be watching. Stay vigilant, for you are associated with me.’

As I scrolled through the pages on my phone, my own concern grew.

‘Lately, I've been tormented by nightmares that seem all too real. I can't shake the feeling that I may have unearthed something incredibly powerful – and dangerous.’ He never directly mentions the artifact, but the implication is clear.

"Knowledge is power," Julian often told me as we discussed history, legacy, and the artifacts that fascinated him so much. I think back on our conversations.

Once or twice, he spoke of certain items he’d collected as reminders of his discoveries.

It's clear now that something from his studies instilled in him some fear. Enough that he drafted several e-mails with the intention of sending them to me. Why he chose not to, I might never know.

‘Vincenzo, be cautious with your own acquisitions. Some relics are better left undiscovered. I wish I had never laid eyes on this... thing.’

---