Page 20 of Bound to the Enforcer

Stupid, stupid little girl.

"Did you intercept the response?" I ask calmly despite the frustration brewing beneath.

"No, sir," Pietro replies, his tone apologetic. "Vittorio's system is locked down. If he replied, we wouldn't have seen it."

I toss the letter onto the desk between us, the sharp sound making him flinch. "Do you know what you've just handed me, Pietro? This isn't just a security breach. The moment she handed you that envelope, you should have given it to me."

He casts his eyes down and trembles at my words. "She told me not to tell anyone. I owe her father my life, and she is our new leader, and I wanted to respect her rank but I—forgive me, sir. I was stupid and should have come straight to you."

Pietro drops to his knees, the poor kid sniffing with tears streaming down his face. This isn't on him. This is on the woman who decided to be a free thinker in the wee hours of the morning, and now she has not only put us at risk, but she has compromised this entire organization.

Our intel, our spies, our shipment orders, and how we do business. Every secret we have out there is in the hands of a man who had betrayed Alejandro in his last days.

"Leave," I snap.

Pietro scurries toward the door, pausing just long enough to glance back at the desk where the note lies. I can see the guilt on his face; he feels like a traitor for reporting Sophia. He shouldn't. This isn't a betrayal—it's protection, even if she can't see it. Had he come the moment she had handed him the letter, then this would have been even greater protection. But now the information is out there, and I need to act fast.

Vittorio is not a good man, and there is a reason why Alejandro axed him from his life. He wasn't even at the funeral.Had he been, I would have put a bullet in the middle of his head. My blood hisses as hot steam pulses through my veins.

When the door closes behind him, I sit back in my chair, staring at the note. My thumb brushes against the edge of the paper, as though feeling the weight of her defiance. She doesn't trust me.

I unfold the letter slowly, my fingers trembling more than I care to admit. I stare at her handwriting—sharp, clean strokes that hold no emotion except for the words they contain. As I read, my stomach sinks, and the air in the room suddenly feels thick and suffocating.

She sent this to Carlo.

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I've spent every moment since her father's death guarding her, keeping her safe, trying to protect her from the very world that this letter is now pulling her deeper into. She didn't trust me enough to come to me. She didn't trust me enough to ask, to give me the chance to explain, to show her that I'm not the enemy.

Last night in that library, I believed to some extent we had connected. Something had moved and shifted between us. But now, I guess that it was only on my side.

I grip the letter tighter, crumpling the edges, but I can't bring myself to tear it. It feels like the last thread between us. She's not just questioning my judgment, she's questioningme. Everything I've done for her, everything I've sacrificed, all the times I've put myself between her and the world… none of it matters.

She fucking sold us out—sold me out. And that hurts.

Every piece of me wants to storm to her, demand an explanation, but I know that I can't go to her when I am riddled with sour betrayal and red-hot anger.

You should have just told her the truth.

My conscious tries to reason with me. And it is right. Maybe if I had been more forthcoming with her, then we would not behere right now. But how can I give her more pain than she is already carrying?

My not telling her is helping her to hold onto the last shred of humanity that she has left.

I swallow hard, trying to fight the wave of anger and hurt that's choking me. My jaw tightens, my hands clenching around the letter, but I don't know what to do with it. What to do with her. What to do with me.

And worse, a part of me understands why she went and did this.

I lean my head back and look up at the ceiling. I pinch the bridge of my nose and let out a long sigh. For a brief few seconds, I allow myself to be human and to feel all the human emotions. But then I snap my eyes open, and I school my features as I grab my phone and dial a number.

The phone rings once before he answers.

"We are going into level three lockdown. Shit has hit the fan. Get me two fake passports and IDs, and pack for Sophia and me. I am getting her the fuck away from here."

Two hours later, everything is sorted, and Matteo is handing me the documents, and I am storming my way to Sophia's room.

I simply enter the moment I reach her door. I've had enough of her games for one night. The door swings open under my hand, and there she is, seated at her desk, the glow of her lamp casting a halo around her dark hair. She looks up sharply, startled, but her expression turns into one of annoyance.

"Can I help you?" she snaps, her tone as sharp as the glare she shoots in my direction.

I hold up the copy of her message. "What the fuck, Sophia!"

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