Page 75 of Lord of Obsession

I activate the secondary defense protocol, metal shutters sliding silently into place over vulnerable windows. Rafael checks his weapon with methodical precision, his eyes betraying nothing of the emotion churning beneath. If Enzo has compromised us, it means more than relocating. It means someone Rafael trusted has finally chosen family loyalty over personal connection.

The approaching vehicle stops at exactly the designated checkpoint, headlights cutting through gathering twilight. A single figure emerges, hands clearly visible. Torres himself, not his usual courier. Unusual enough to warrant caution.

"Stay here," I tell Rafael, though we both know it's unnecessary. His tactical mind has already calculated that separating providesbetter defensive coverage. "Three-minute assessment, then a security confirmation."

The path to the gate winds through ancient olive trees, their twisted trunks providing both cover and concealment. I move like a shadow through familiar terrain, each step placed with the silent precision ingrained since childhood. By the time I reach Torres, I've confirmed he's alone and carrying only his usual sidearm.

"You're violating protocols," I observe, emerging from darkness with my weapon still ready. "Explain."

Torres doesn't flinch at the gun or the implied threat. After three decades navigating the criminal underworld of two continents, very little rattles him. "I have information that couldn't be trusted to send over electronic channels." He reaches slowly into his jacket, maintaining eye contact as he withdraws a sealed envelope. "From Enzo."

I take it without lowering my weapon, the paper heavy with implications. "You could have sent the usual signal for emergency contact."

"The usual channels are being watched." Torres' weathered face reveals genuineconcern, an expression I've rarely seen from him. "Both families have escalated efforts. New search parameters, new tactics. Your father's brought in specialists from the Russian operation."

Cold slides through my veins despite the warm evening air. The Russians represent a significant escalation. They specialize in digital forensics and extraction techniques that border on the medieval when electronic trails grow cold.

"How compromised are we?" I ask, finally lowering my weapon as Rafael approaches, having confirmed the perimeter remains secure.

Torres shakes his head, the gesture carrying decades of experience with threats and countermeasures. "Not directly. Not yet. But they're narrowing the geographical search area. Mediterranean coast, private property, recent transfers through shell companies. They're putting together the pieces."

Rafael accepts the envelope from my outstretched hand, breaking the seal with careful precision. His expression reveals nothing as he scans the contents, but I catch the slighttension in his shoulders. Bad news, though perhaps not catastrophic.

"Salvatore's leveraged his Vatican connections," he says, voice deliberately neutral. "They're accessing property records that should have been unreachable."

I curse under my breath. The Catholic Church maintains the oldest continuous property records in Europe, including transactions the digital world never captured. A route we hadn't fully secured.

"How long?" I ask Torres, already calculating evacuation timelines and contingency options.

"Two weeks, maybe three before they narrow it to this specific region. After that..." He shrugs, the gesture eloquent in its simplicity. Once they have the region, it's only a matter of manpower and determination to find us.

Rafael hands me the letter, his fingers brushing mine in subtle reassurance. "We're ahead of schedule anyway. The Barcelona operation can be accelerated."

Torres watches our exchange with interest but makes no comment. His loyalty is to servicesrendered and payment received, not family politics or personal judgments. "There's something else." He reaches into his pocket again, producing a thumb drive. "From your mother."

Rafael's composure cracks, just slightly, just enough for me to see the impact. He takes the drive with steady hands that betray nothing of what must be churning beneath. "Did she say what it contains?"

"Only that it's for your eyes alone. And that it required significant risk to compile." Torres checks his watch, already calculating his departure timeline. Our protection only extends so far, and he has other clients waiting. "Whatever's on there, she thought it worth potentially compromising her position with Salvatore."

The implications hang heavy in the coastal air. Rafael's mother has maintained a careful neutrality in the months since our departure—neither actively hunting us nor providing direct assistance. This represents a clear choice, one that carries significant risk for her within the Valenti family hierarchy.

"Thank you for taking the risk," Rafael says, the formal acknowledgement carryingweight that Torres recognizes with a slight nod.

"Business is business." But there's something almost like respect in the older man's eyes as he glances between us. "Most don't survive separating from families like yours. Fewer still manage to establish independent operations that actually threaten the old power structures."

I secure my weapon, recognizing that Torres poses no immediate threat. "We had the advantage of knowing exactly how they'd respond and what tactics they'd employ."

"Because you helped design those same tactics," he acknowledges with a thin smile. "Still, don't underestimate their resources or determination. Pride is a powerful motivator when combined with fear."

Rafael pockets the thumb drive, his expression betraying nothing of the emotional impact it must carry. "The Barcelona foundation launches next week. Once that's established, their options for direct action become significantly limited."

"True." Torres moves back toward his car, mission accomplished and lingering now a unnecessary risk. "But limited options often leaddesperate men to extreme measures. Watch your backs."

We maintain security protocols until his taillights disappear down the coastal road, neither of us speaking until confirmation comes that the property's perimeter remains secure. Only then does Rafael's perfect posture soften slightly, the weight of implications settling on his shoulders.

"My mother wouldn't risk contact without significant cause," he says, turning the thumb drive over in his fingers. "Whatever this contains..."

I place my hand at the small of his back, feeling tension coiled beneath expensive fabric. "We'll review it together. After we've confirmed the villa hasn't been compromised."

---