Bella smiled to herself. Soon, she thought. That smirk of yours won’t last much longer. After everything I’ve planned, you won’t sleep at night. You’ll lie awake, tossing and turning, wondering what’s coming. Wondering when. Wondering how badly it’s going to hurt. You’ll see.

She turned her head slightly and met Krystal’s gaze. She smiled then, slow and confident, an expression that said everything without a single word. I see you. I know what you did. And I am not afraid of you.

Krystal’s eyes widened. A flicker of anger crossed her face, hot and quick, barely controlled. Her manicured nails dug into her palm. What does this bi*ch think she’s smiling at? She forced her own smile back into place, sharper and colder. On annual day, she’ll lower her head in shame. And if she doesn’t perform, she’ll be scolded by the authorities for wasting their time. Either way, she loses. Either way, I win.

Bella turned back to her notebook and flipped through the pages. Shortly after, Karl slid into the seat beside her, and Lily appeared on her other side, just before the professor walked in and called the class to order.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

Meanwhile, after his meeting with clients, Leo went to his private conference room. He nodded to his assistant, who closed the heavy wooden doors and ensured no one else would enter.

His men filed in quietly. Not the usual guards who stood at the front gates, but the ones who worked in shadows. The intelligence group Leo had gathered recently, the ones he trusted. They sat around the long table, six of them, each with a tablet and a notepad, each face serious and dangerous.

Leo remained at the head of the table, his back straight, his gray eyes cold. His arm rested on the armrest. 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

"So," he said, his voice low and steady, "any news regarding the West Mafia?"

The men exchanged glances. Marco, his lead intelligence officer, spoke first. "No, sir. They’ve been too silent lately. Too quiet. It’s like they’ve disappeared."

Leo’s jaw tightened. "Silence isn’t peace. Silence is planning."

Another man, Derek, nodded. "That’s what worries us, sir. Normally we’d hear something. A rumor, a whisper, a shipment delay, something. But there’s nothing. Complete radio silence from their side."

Leo’s fingers tapped once on the armrest. "What about their known associates? Their suppliers? Someone must have heard something."

Marco shook his head. "We’ve leaned on everyone we could. Low level dealers, mid level distributors, even a few of their former allies who switched sides years ago. No one knows anything. Either they’re dead, or they’re too scared to talk."

"Or both," Vincent muttered.

"Or both," Marco agreed.

Leo’s gray eyes swept the table. "What about the Mafia council meeting?"

Marco pulled up a note on his tablet. "Postponed indefinitely. No new date has been announced. The official reason is scheduling conflicts, but unofficially..." He hesitated.

Leo’s voice was sharp. "Unofficially?"

"Unofficially, we heard that two of the council members received threats anonymously. The timing lines up with the West Mafia’s silence."

Leo leaned back in his chair. "Threats against council members. That’s bold."

Derek shrugged. "Bold or stupid. Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference until someone ends up dead."

Vincent leaned forward, his elbows on the table. "The real question is why. What are they planning that requires so much secrecy? Territory? Trade routes? A power play?"

Marco answered, "Could be all three. Could be something else entirely. We don’t have enough to go on yet."

Leo’s voice was cold. "Then get more. I don’t pay you to tell me what you don’t know. I pay you to find out."

Marco nodded quickly. "Yes, sir. We’re increasing surveillance. Putting more eyes on their known locations. If they blink, we’ll see it."

"See it before they blink," Leo said. "Anticipate. Don’t react."

"Yes, sir."

Leo let the silence stretch for a moment, then changed direction. "What about the stalker?"

Marco pulled up another file on his tablet. "The credit card ma’am stole gave us some leads. We traced the transactions. Hotel stays, restaurant meals, a few online purchases. Nothing that revealed his identity directly, but we have a pattern."

Leo’s eyes sharpened. "Explain."

"He’s wealthy. Moves in circles similar to yours. Private clubs, high end establishments, places that require memberships and references. We cross referenced the locations with known associates of the West Mafia and found overlaps."

"How many overlaps?"

Marco glanced at his notes. "Seven locations so far. Three private clubs, two restaurants, one hotel, and a gated community where several West Mafia figures own properties."

Leo’s jaw tightened. "So he’s connected to them."

"Almost certainly, sir. We can’t prove direct contact yet, but the evidence is stacking up."

Vincent added, "The credit card itself was a dead end after the first few days. He stopped using it. Either he realized it was stolen, or someone warned him."

"Or both," Derek said again.

"Or both," Vincent agreed.

Leo’s voice was quiet and dangerous. "How close are we to an actual name?"

Marco met his eyes. "We’ve narrowed it down to three families. All connected to the West Mafia. All with access to the kind of resources he’s been using. The chemical smoke, the private clubs, the ability to move unnoticed."

"Names."

Marco listed them. Leo recognized each one. His fingers tapped once on the armrest. "I want surveillance on all three. Round the clock. I don’t care how many men it takes."

Derek nodded. "We’ll make it happen, sir."

Leo turned to Vincent. "The chemical smoke. What else have you found?"

Vincent opened his own tablet. "We’ve identified most of the components. Chloroform, tear gas, and a synthetic compound that’s not commercially available. Someone made it for him. Someone with a lab and a background in organic chemistry."

Leo leaned forward slightly. "How do you know it was made specifically for him?"

Vincent zoomed in on a chemical formula. "Because the compound is unstable. It breaks down within forty eight hours of exposure to air. That means it had to be manufactured very close to the time of use. You can’t stockpile it. You can’t buy it off the shelf. Someone made a fresh batch specifically for that night."

Leo’s eyes darkened. "So there’s a chemist. Someone with a lab. Someone who knew what he was planning."

"Exactly, sir."

"Have you found any leads on who that might be?"