“So,” I say, when the silence stretches too long. “Why are we out here?”
He doesn’t turn around. “I wanted to speak with you privately.”
“Of course, figured you didn’t bring me out here to stargaze. So what’s it about?”
“Your work.” He glances over his shoulder, and even in the dim light I can see the sharp edge of his smile. “Your report this afternoon was excellent. You’ve already identified most of Viktor’s access points.”
My heart stops dead in my chest.
“Viktor?”
Enzo turns to face me fully, and there’s something dangerous in his eyes.
“Viktor Sokolov,” he says calmly. “The one who’s been diverting shipments for at least six months. The one you’ve been so carefully documenting.”
The blood drains from my face so fast I go lightheaded.
He knows.
“I don’t—”
“Don’t insult me by lying.” His tone stays soft, but there’s an edge to it that makes all the hair on my body stand on end. “You’re good, DaCosta. But you’re not as subtle as you think.” He takes a step toward me. “One week to map my entire organization? To find vulnerabilities that just happen to align with Viktor’s operations?” Another step. “Either you’re the best security consultant I’ve ever hired, or you came here with a very specific agenda.”
My hand moves toward the gun before I can stop it.
Enzo tracks the movement and smirks.
“So that’s how it is,” he says quietly.
I draw the weapon. Point it center mass, exactly how I’ve practiced a thousand times.
“Marco Moretti.” My voice doesn’t waver, thank fuck. “You had him killed.”
There’s not a flicker of surprise or hint of fear in the bastard’s expression.
“I know who Marco Moretti was.”
“Then you know why I’m here.”
“To avenge your brother,” he says casually like we’re discussing the fucking weather.
Wait.
Brother.
I never mentioned Marco was my brother.
My finger trembles on the trigger as the corners of Enzo’s mouth curve.
“Luca Moretti,” he says slowly, savoring each syllable. “Age twenty-six. Omega. Computer science degree from Dalton University, graduated four years ago with honors. Worked as a data analyst for two years before going freelance. No criminal record. Lived with your brother until his arrest. Spent the last six months building a fake identity as David DaCosta, complete with military background and security consulting experience. Used your considerable IT skills to create a flawless digital footprint—bank records, employment history, social media presence going back years.” He pauses, and his smile deepens. “Very thorough work, by the way. Almost had me convinced.”
My blood turns to ice in my veins.
“You knew.” The words come out strangled.
“From the first day you walked into Eclipse.” He cocks his head to the side, studying me. “What, you think I wouldn’t investigate someone I’m giving access to my entire security infrastructure?” His smile sharpens into something lethal. “I’m a thorough man, Luca. It’s why I’m still alive.”
The full weight of it crashes over me. I’m shaking, and I can’t tell if it’s rage or fear or the sick humiliation of being outmaneuvered. I’ve been playing checkers while he’s been playing chess this whole time.
