Infiltration (Part One)

Luca Romano

The bar was dimly lit, creating long shadows as I sat with Rico, drinking a whiskey that felt strong. Rico leaned in close, speaking quietly while checking to ensure no one was listening. Even though the bar was busy with voices and laughter, there was an underlying feeling of tension. This was a place where people traded secrets.

“They’re bringing in a new guy,” Rico said. “Claudia Empire’s latest star. His name is Matteo Greco. He’s in his thirties and does all the dirty work—assassinations, blackmail, and more.”

I took a sip, feeling the warmth spread. “And you want me to be friends with him?”

Rico smirked, a mischievous look in his eyes. “Not exactly. They plan to make him a picciotto at the upcoming initiation ceremony.”

I raised an eyebrow. “They’re moving quickly.”

“They trust him. He’s earned it.” Rico leaned back, looking serious. “This is a chance for us to get someone on the inside. You.”

The idea made sense, but something in Rico’s tone made me cautious. “What’s the catch?”

Rico paused, and his smirk faded. “He's seeing someone, they might even be engaged.”

I set my glass down. “And who's the lady?”

“Her name is Elena,” he said, sliding a photo across the table. A beautiful brunette with bright, cautious eyes stared back at me. “They’re keeping her away for now. She’s in Naples. He’s here in Palermo.”

“And how does that help us?”

“It’s simple.” Rico pointed at a waitress behind the bar, yelling at some drunk patrons. “Her.”

I followed his gaze and saw the woman looking ready to break a bottle over someone’s head. Her fierce attitude stood out, but it was her underlying vulnerability that caught my attention. Looking back at Rico, I let a slow smile show. “I can handle that.”

Hours later, I stood outside the fancy hotel where Matteo Greco was staying. Rico had shown me the file earlier—it included gruesome details about murders and families torn apart, all linked to Greco. Each page made me angry, but I kept calm. Revenge was about being smart, not emotional.

Rico and some of my guys had already blended in with the hotel staff. The plan was straightforward but risky: get into Matteo’s suite by pretending to deliver a special gift from the Claudia family.

I straightened my shirt, adjusted my hotel attendant jacket, and pushed the cart I was wheeling. A bottle of expensive wine sat on top, covered with a shiny steel lid. The cart made a soft squeak on the polished floor as I approached the door.

Two guards stood outside, blocking the entrance.

“Special delivery,” I said, trying to sound friendly. I pointed to the wine bottle. “From the Claudia family.”

One guard frowned and looked skeptical. “We weren’t told about this.”

“That’s the point of a surprise,” I said smoothly, keeping my expression neutral. “For Mr. Greco’s promotion.”

The guard exchanged looks with his partner and then nodded. “Hold on.” He opened the door and stepped inside, leaving one guard outside, watching me with a mix of boredom and distrust.

Perfect.

“Busy night?” I asked casually, breaking the tension.

The guard raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. “We don’t chat.”

I let out a soft chuckle, feigning nervousness. “Right, of course. You’re professionals. Makes sense.”

He didn’t respond, but his eyes flicked toward the cart for a brief second, likely double-checking the wine bottle.

“So, uh…” I hesitated, pretending to be unsure whether to speak. “Do you guys rotate shifts, or is this more of a permanent gig?”

His gaze snapped back to me, clearly irritated. “Why does it matter?”

“Oh, no reason.” I shrugged, trying to appear harmless. “Just curious. It must be interesting, working for someone like Mr. Greco. You know, seeing how the big players live.”

The guard’s lips twitched, as though he were suppressing a smirk or a scoff. “Not as interesting as pushing carts.”

“Fair enough,” I said, holding up my hands in mock surrender. “But hey, at least I get free wine sometimes.”

He rolled his eyes, his posture relaxing just slightly. I noticed then, on the shoulder of his impeccably pressed suit, a faint smudge—a dark streak that looked completely out of place.

I pointed, my brow furrowing. “Looks like you’ve got something there.”

The guard glanced down, confused. “What?”

“On your shoulder,” I clarified, gesturing toward the stain. “Looks like grease or something. Maybe from brushing against one of the doors?”

He twisted slightly, trying to get a better look at the mark. “Damn it. This suit’s custom-made.”

“Here, let me help,” I offered, stepping closer with a damp cloth in hand. My tone was friendly, almost apologetic. “I’ve got experience with stubborn stains. You don’t want to ruin a suit like that, right?”

The guard sighed, clearly annoyed, but relented. “Fine. Just be quick.”

As I leaned in to “clean” the smudge, I spoke softly, keeping the conversation alive. “You know, this kind of thing happens all the time in the hotel industry. One moment, you’re pristine; the next, you’re dodging wine spills and grease stains. Occupational hazard, I guess.”

The guard grunted in vague agreement, his attention focused on my movements.

I smiled inwardly, knowing I had him right where I wanted. “Almost got it,” I said, leaning in just a bit closer. “Just need a little more pressure…”

Before he could react, In one swift motion, I wrapped my arm around his neck and applied just enough force to end it quickly. The body went limp in my arms.

Rico appeared with two of my guys. They moved fast, grabbing the body and pulling it out of sight.

“Clean,” Rico said, nodding in approval before disappearing again.

The door opened, and the second guard stepped out, looking around. “Where did he go?”

“Restroom,” I said casually, pointing down the hall. “He should be back any second.”

The guard seemed satisfied and stepped aside to let me in. Inside, the room was lavish, every detail dripping with wealth and power.

I pushed the cart forward, my heart racing with anticipation. When I entered the suite, a smirk spread across my face. Matteo Greco had no idea what was about to happen.