2026-04-11 16:28:56"Don't move, Matteo. One more inch, and you'll only quicken your heart rate and spread that poison faster through your brain."
A cold, intimidating voice suddenly broke the silence from the dark corner of Matteo’s apartment, which should have been empty. Matteo De Luca froze in the doorway, key still hanging in the lock. In the gloom, he smelled neither gas nor gunpowder, but rather a strange, sweet aroma, like roasted bitter almonds.
"Who are you?" Matteo hissed. His hand slowly moved towards his jacket pocket, aiming for the phone he’d prepared as a panic button. One long press on the volume button, and all the Volkov Clan corruption data would be uploaded to a public server.
"Breathe slowly, Prosecutor," the voice returned, followed by the rhythmic sound of boot steps on the wooden floor. "If you're looking for your phone, I'm afraid it's no more useful than a doorstop now. The signal here is dead, and more importantly, your finger muscles will give out very soon."
Matteo tried to press the button, but his thumb felt like a heavy block of cement. Numbness began to creep up his nerves, climbing his arm and making his knees tremble violently. He staggered, his shoulder hitting the doorframe before he finally slumped to the floor. His breathing was laboured, his lungs seemingly shrinking.
A man stepped out of the shadows. He wore all-black tactical clothing with a balaclava mask that only left a pair of ice-cold eyes visible. On the back of his left hand, a tattoo of a snake coiled around a dagger was clearly visible under the street light filtering through the window.
That tattoo... The Volkov Clan.
"You're cowards," Matteo mumbled, his voice now only a hoarse whisper. "You think killing me will bury the truth?"
The Killer knelt in front of Matteo, tilting his head in a mocking gesture. "Truth has a price, Matteo. And you tried to give it away for free. That's bad for business."
He reached into Matteo's pocket, took the advanced phone, and crushed it with a single squeeze of his tactically gloved hand. "You thought your backup plan was genius? We've been monitoring your communications since you left the prosecutor's office. We didn't use bullets because bullets leave ballistic traces. We use chemistry. One breath was enough to make your lungs give out, Prosecutor."
"Elias." Matteo hissed the name with ingrained hatred. "Did Elias Volkov send you?"
"Mr. Volkov sends his regards," the Killer replied. He stood up and took a small jerrycan from his bag. "He says you’re too loud for someone who has no one left in this world."
Just then, a subtle 'click' sound echoed from the kitchen. Matteo’s pupils widened. It wasn't footsteps. It was a detonator.
BOOOOM!
A massive explosion shook the entire apartment floor. Concrete walls cracked, window panes shattered into a deadly rain of crystals. A wave of heat hit Matteo's body, throwing him across the corridor until his back hit the opposite wall with a rib-breaking thud.
The world went blurry. Matteo's ears were ringing violently, leaving behind a painful silence amidst the flames that began licking the ceiling. He coughed, spitting thick red liquid onto the floor now covered in ash. In the fading fragments of his consciousness, he saw the Killer still standing there, untouched by the explosion, as if the fire were his loyal servant.
"Look at yourself." The Killer walked closer, his feet stepping on the glowing debris. "The defender of the law, the people's hero, now lying like a mangy dog in the ruins of his own idealism. You were honest, Matteo. But your honesty didn't give you an explosion-proof shield, did it?"
The Killer opened the jerrycan lid and began pouring clear liquid around Matteo. The sharp smell of petrol now overpowered the sweet aroma of the earlier poison.
"Help... there's someone inside... help!"
A faint scream was heard from the adjacent apartment unit. Matteo’s neighbour, a young mother and her child. The fire began to spread towards them. Matteo's heart sank. He tried to move his hand, wanted to scream, to warn them, but all his nerves were numb. None of his limbs responded to his brain's commands.
"Don't worry about them," a new voice emerged. This voice was different. Heavier, more authoritative, and possessing a dense aura of darkness.
From behind the thick black smoke at the destroyed doorway, a man appeared in a charcoal-grey suit that starkly contrasted with the chaos around him. His hair was slicked back neatly, and his eyes glinted with malicious intelligence.
That man was Elias, the snake of the Volkov clan.
Elias stepped into the fire as if he were walking on a red carpet at a gala premiere. He stopped directly in front of Matteo’s bloodied face, then crouched down. He took out a silk handkerchief, carefully cleaning a small speck of dust from his shiny shoe, right in front of Matteo's dying eyes.
"Matteo, Matteo," Elias tutted, his voice full of feigned sympathy. "I truly hoped you were smarter than this. I offered you a throne beside me, but you chose a grave beneath my feet instead."
Matteo gathered his remaining strength, spitting towards Elias’s shoe, though only blood emerged from the corner of his mouth. "You're a monster..."
Elias laughed, a dry laugh that didn't reach his eyes. "Monster is a term used by the weak to define the strong they cannot control. This world doesn't need dead honest people, Matteo. This world needs winners in power. And a winner won't let a pebble like you obstruct his path."
Elias stood up, then took a golden lighter from his pocket. He lit it, staring at the small flame with a worshipping gaze before throwing it onto the puddle of petrol near Matteo's feet.
Whoosh!
The fire immediately flared high, forming a wall of hell surrounding Matteo. The heat began to sear his skin, igniting unimaginable pain.
"Goodbye, Prosecutor," Elias said as he turned away. "In your next life, choose the winning side."
Elias and the Killer walked away, leaving the apartment to become a mass combustion furnace. Amidst the roar of the fire and the collapse of the ceiling, Matteo De Luca felt death approaching. However, behind the soul-crushing pain, a new spark emerged in his eyes, which were beginning to whiten.
It wasn't fear. It wasn't submission either.
It was a hatred so pure it could freeze fire.
If I die today...Matteo thought to himself, every cell in his body screaming against death. I swear, I will crawl out of hell just to drag you into it with me, Elias. I will kill you... even if I have to become a demon to do it.
His consciousness faded as the apartment roof collapsed on top of him, swallowing that bloody vow in a sea of raging red flames.
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Chapter 19
The heavy silence in the forest eventually ceded to the rhythmic hum of Isabella’s dark SUV, a stark contrast to the earlier screech of tires and hurried footsteps. The vehicle moved with a smooth, almost stealthy grace, eating up the winding roads that cut through the still, sleeping landscape. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of antiseptic and the lingering, metallic tang of fresh blood. Matteo, propped awkwardly in the back seat, felt every jostle, every subtle shift of weight, like a hammer blow against his fractured ribs and throbbing head. Vincenzo, still unconscious, lay sprawled across the second row, his breathing shallow, a new, clean bandage stark white against the dark hair on his forehead.Isabella drove with a quiet focus, her profile illuminated intermittently by the fleeting streetlights. Her hands gripped the steering wheel with an easy competence, her eyes scanning the road ahead and the rearview mirror with a vigilance that spoke of long-honed instinct. She
Chapter 18
The pine forest on the outskirts of Basel knew no mercy. The trees stood close together, holding back the moonlight until only a thin sliver broke through between the stiff branches. Wind descending from the Jura mountains carried the smell of wet earth and pine resin, masking the sharper scent beneath it: engine smoke, burning rubber, and blood.The rental car had come to rest after striking the trunk of an old pine tree nearly two meters thick. The hood had crumpled upward like the jaw of a creature forced open, releasing thin white smoke that rose slowly into the night sky. The windshield had cracked from corner to corner, leaving a pattern like a frozen spiderweb.Vincenzo Moretti sat in the front passenger seat, his head resting to one side. A long gash ran across his forehead, blood flowing slowly down over his left eyebrow. His breathing was shallow but steady. He was unconscious, not dead.In the back seat, Matteo De Luca was in far worse shape. He had tried to protect himself
Chapter 17: Game on the Surface
The cold sensation prickling at Matteo's neck was not the chill of the Basel night air, but the blade of a knife pressed gently behind his ear. The whisper was barely audible, coming from directly behind him, masked by the hum of the rental car's engine, which now seemed deceptively trivial."Welcome to the real game, Maestro," the voice continued, slightly clearer this time, yet maintaining its silken edge. "You thought you were the hunter, but in truth, you are the hunted."Matteo froze. His heart hammered against his ribs, not from physical pain, but from the sudden jolt of tension. Vincenzo, sitting beside him, flinched, his eyes wide as he realized the unexpected threat inside their vehicle."Who are you?!" Matteo hissed, fighting to keep his voice steady even as he felt the muscles in his neck tighten. He didn't dare move, fearing it would trigger a reflex from his assailant."I am the shadow you created yourself, Matteo," the voice replied, sounding more distinct now. "The shad
Chapter 16: Meeting in Basel
The cold, crisp air of the Alps felt refreshing in the lungs of Matteo De Luca, who had just left behind a Florence now in turmoil. The Eurocity train carrying him from the Italian border to Basel, Switzerland, moved smoothly across a stunning green landscape.Beneath the hood of his raised jacket, Matteo stared out the window, but his gaze was not fixed on the beautiful scenery. His eyes were focused on the reflection of his own face in the glass—a constant reminder of the destruction caused by Elias Volkov.He no longer felt the cold. His body, tempered by Nico and strengthened by his own rage, now felt like an efficient machine. Every movement, every breath, was calculated. He had left Florence, leaving behind a trail of chaos that confounded Volkov’s forces, granting him precious time to reach his destination: Switzerland.Beside him, Vincenzo Moretti, who seemed far calmer than usual, was busy typing on his laptop. He had managed to obtain crucial information regarding the locati
Chapter 15: Symphony of Death in Oltrarno
Florence, which had once been merely a stage for Matteo’s revenge, had transformed into a genuine battlefield. After disposing of Ivan, Matteo wasted no time. The diversion plan designed by Nico began to unfold with the precision of clockwork.That night, three locations in Florence linked to the Volkov operation were struck simultaneously. A logistics warehouse in Oltrarno was engulfed in flames following a suspicious gas leak.The office of a corrupt judge associated with Volkov was broken into, and every document and digital file vanished without a trace. Meanwhile, at the Florence police headquarters, a high-tech smoke bomb detonated in the archives, sparking chaos and forcing a mass evacuation.Matteo, now hidden behind a false identity prepared by Vincenzo, watched from a distance. Each explosion, every panicked news report, was a note in the symphony of destruction he was orchestrating. Elias Volkov had to be feeling the shockwaves.Everything is under control, Maestro, Nico’s v
Chapter 14: Storm at the Gates
The air inside Il Silenzioso’s basement felt stifling, no longer from the scent of old books or gun oil, but from a thick, suffocating tension. News of Ivan’s death and the discovery of the Swiss vault key had accelerated the ticking clock of war."He is coming to destroy you. Piece by piece. Exactly as you did to Ivan." Nico’s words echoed in Matteo’s ears, carving a grim promise into his mind.Suddenly, a loud thud sounded from the floor above, followed by a subtle tremor that rippled through the stone walls. Vincenzo jumped from his chair, his eyes wide with fear."What was that?" he whispered, his voice raspy.Nico didn't answer. He simply tilted his head, listening. Then, from a small radio mounted on a shelf, static erupted, followed by an emergency broadcast."...all units, all units. Reports of suspicious activity in the Florence area have increased sharply. Several checkpoints have been established on the city's main routes. There are reports of harassment toward civilians su