Page 72 of The Bonventi Hitman
"Tonight, Luca met with the Greeks and Polish. I assume they will join and fight with the Italians."
I wasn't sure they had agreed, but I could alter my facts later once I found out.
He nods and walks toward the elevator. I shut the door, and as it locks, I know that my fate is now sealed. I've chosen to stay, and whatever happens, it's on me.
I stare down at the gun in my hand, its presence oddly comforting.
The gun represents everything I once stood for—justice, duty, my unwavering commitment to my role as an FBI agent. But now, as I hold it, I feel more like a fraud. The lines have blurred beyond recognition, and I'm not sure which version of myself I'm supposed to be anymore—Anna or Sofia.
Thankfully, it'll be easy to conceal, and a part of me hopes I'll never need to use it. I also truly hope I haven't been exposed.
Compromised.
Who was the woman that told them, and were they lying?
My thoughts drift, and Gabriel's face floods my vision. His intense gaze, the way his jaw clenches when he's focused, the gentleness in his touch on my skin. My breath catches in my throat as I remember the things he's done to me and how he made me feel more alive than I've ever felt before.
"Fuck," I mutter, gripping the gun tighter. Maybe this is exactly why someone thinks I'm compromised.
Because maybe I am.
I move to the full-length mirror in the bedroom and raise the gun, pointing it at my reflection.
"Who are you?" I ask the woman in the mirror. "Anna or Sofia?"
The silence that follows is an unspoken statement. I can't, or won't, answer my question.
I lower the gun.
I've crossed so many lines, blurred so many boundaries, that I'm not sure I can find my way back even if I wanted to.
And do I want to?
The thought hits me like a punch. Do I really want to go back to my old life? To leave behind this world of passion that Gabriel has shown me? The rational part of my brain screams at me to remember my duty, to think of Bill and the mission. But my heart—my heart beats to a different story.
"Get it together," I say to myself. "You're in too deep."
But even as I say the words, I know it's too late. I'm already drowning in the depths of my feelings for Gabriel.
I move away from the mirror and sit on the edge of the bed, the gun still in my hand.
If Gabriel wasn't in the picture, would I have stayed? Is it truly about the mission or something far more complex?
I walk back out into the living room and take a seat on the couch. I feel my legs getting weak from all my constant movement. I must have walked the equivalent of 50 miles since I came back to my room.
A wave of tiredness comes over me, and I feel that all my worrying has caught up with me, and my body can no longer pretend how drained I am.
I slip the gun under a cushion and lay my head down over it. My eyes grow heavy as exhaustion finally takes hold, but even as I drift off, one terrifying thought circles in my mind: if I am compromised, would Gabriel be the one to kill me? That's what men like him do.
In my last moments of consciousness, I realize that I've fallen for the very man who would be given the job of putting a bullet in my head.
The sound of footsteps in the hallway follows me into my dreams.
ANNA - 27
The sound of the door handle turning jolts me awake, and I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. My hand instinctively reaches for the gun tucked beneath the cushion, but I freeze as I recognize the broad shoulders and familiar silhouette.
"Gabriel," I breathe out, relief flooding through me even as I try to wake up. "You're okay."
