CHAPTER 61: ENEMIES

–Damon–

I had no idea. Honestly. But when the door burst open, I half-expected Kai to waltz in like a reckless bastard and take a bullet to the chest.

Instead, to my surprise, he came in ready—lights went out, all of them. Darkness swallowed the room like a curtain falling on a stage. Then he appeared, cloaked in shadow, wielding a full metal shield. I didn’t even know where the hell he got it. But he moved with precision, guiding me as I carried my wife in my arms.

Logan was already pulling us in, slamming the door shut behind us. Hotel security footsteps echoed down the hallway. We slipped into the room directly across from hers, the lock clicking into place like a gun cocking.

"Sniper is down," Logan muttered into his headset.

I looked at Kai. He was grinning like a damn lunatic.

Gently, I placed my wife in a chair far from the windows. She exhaled slowly, tired... but beautiful. Still whole. I adjusted the sheet over her chest and knelt in front of her, running my fingers up her thigh in a subtle check for injury before covering her modesty. She leaned her head back, eyes closed.

"That chic you’re with?" Kai said, still amused. "She’s a badass."

"That chic," my wife replied coolly, "is Sophia."

I glanced up at her, amused despite everything, then brushed a lock of hair behind her ear.

"What was that?" she asked quietly.

"We’re looking into it," I answered. "Snipers don’t just show up in our line of work—not like this. And I don’t think this is even related to the mission we’re on."

She went silent.

"Oh, someone’s after my head. How flattering," she mused, dryly.

I didn’t want to confirm it, but I had my suspicions. Dela Vega might’ve stirred something deeper—someone bigger. Someone connected to Tyrona and her bloodline. I didn’t like where my thoughts were going.

"We need to leave Italy," I said, gently threading my fingers through her hair, grounding her—and myself.

"Mmm... bummer. I was hoping for a short trip to Greece."

I chuckled, nodding slowly. "Yeah, and we just finished mopping up the mess Dela Vega left behind. Right, Kai?"

Kai groaned. "Then Greece it is."

"I don’t think it’s safe to go to Greece, Miss," Logan cut in, his voice firm.

She hummed, unconvinced. "Alright. Back to the Philippines, then."

I wanted to give her Greece. The beach. The yacht. Days of nothing but making love in the sun and spoiling her senseless. But Logan was right. We weren’t done yet. I needed to finish this war before I gave her the world.

"We’ll figure this out," Kai said. "Then Greece."

I nodded. "Put a million-dollar bounty on it. Whoever’s behind this—I want a name."

Kai gave a curt nod. "Got it."

"Bathroom," she mumbled.

I stood instantly and helped her up, leading her into the bathroom. The scent of her skin mixed with the faint traces of blood and sex. As soon as we got inside, she pulled the sheet off and tossed it into the laundry basket with practiced ease.

"Help me wash up. It’s bothering me."

"Oh, baby..." I ran my hand down her spine, deliberately slow. "You’re washing away our future kids."

She smacked my arm—hard. I grinned.

"It’s uncomfortable, Damon. Just wash me. No funny business."

"Alright, alright," I said, raising both hands in mock surrender. "I’m sorry."

She narrowed her eyes. "And don’t you dare put your penis inside me again."

I gave a solemn nod, lips twitching with suppressed laughter. "Yes, ma’am. Just like every submissive husband out there."

But even as I turned on the water and gently lathered soap across her soft skin, I knew one thing for sure—anyone who dared come for her had just signed their death warrant.

She’s mine.

And I don’t share.

–Sophia–

After I shot him clean in the head, someone retrieved the body within minutes. Too clean. Too fast. I immediately sent men to tail the extraction team. What I didn’t expect was him—Damon’s bodyguard—to go after it as well.

Efficient bastard.

I also spotted a few trackers on the scene. One of them had a service dog—clearly not for show. That told me everything: whoever we were dealing with had the resources and discipline of a paramilitary operation.

I returned to the hotel.

Kai and Logan were already huddled over a layout of the city, planning a tactical exit. Good. At least someone was taking this seriously.

"Miss Liva," I said as I entered, voice clipped. "Should I summon the Bishop?"

"No. There’s no need," she replied.

My brow furrowed.

The Bishop was here in Rome. A covert unit of elite assassins and trackers—lethal, silent, and funded entirely by her. A single whisper from Livana could summon hellfire. Why hold back now?

"But, Livana," I pressed, voice low.

"I have my men covering it," Damon cut in, infuriatingly calm. "Bringing in your Bishop will only draw more attention."

I bit the inside of my cheek. Attention was the least of my concerns. Protecting Livana was my only directive. If fire had to fall, then so be it.

"He’s right," she added, siding with him.

And there she was—still in a robe. I clenched my jaw. The man didn’t even bother dressing her. She deserved silk, armor, diamonds—not a damn robe after a sniper attack.

I turned on my heel and headed to her room, rifled through the wardrobe for something comfortable, secure. Real clothes.

When I returned, I pulled her into the dressing room and shoved her husband aside.

"Livana, I am so fucking serious right now. That was not just some ordinary sniper."

"You did well," she said calmly. "Is he dead?"

"Unfortunately not. He’s down—but he has backup."

She only nodded. "So, we can still track the bastard?"

Her tone wasn’t panicked. It was analytical. Focused. She was already flipping the situation, seeing it as an opportunity. That’s why I followed her.

"I’m curious," she said, adjusting her T-shirt as I stepped closer. I uncapped the eyedropper and held it to the light, checking the consistency. Precise. Uncontaminated. I squeezed one drop into each of her eyes.

"I’m glad Damon closed the curtains," she murmured, relaxing. "It was good sex."

She tapped my shoulder. I stiffened. My brow twitched.

Then she grinned. "So, how do you feel seeing your ex-boyfriend?"

I rolled my eyes, deadpan.

"That’s off-topic," I hissed.

She smirked wider. Her grin was unbearable.

God, she loved pushing buttons.

–Livana–

The Bishops?

Yes, they’re an old organization—rooted in blood, oath, and legacy. I funded them when they were at their lowest. Took their father into protective custody to secure their loyalty. People think money buys power, but what truly binds is survival. I gave them that. And in return, they became my most lethal asset. The main instrument in many of my unseen moves.

But I didn’t summon the Bishops this time.

Instead, I deployed the Rook.

A smaller team. Quieter. Fluid. And far more adaptive to situations like this. They operated like wind—undetected, but everywhere. In just hours, they erased every trace of our stay: hotel records wiped, security footage looped or deleted, staff memories blurred with falsified check-ins. Not even a shadow of us remained behind.

We arrived at one of Damon’s secret villas—one hidden deep in the countryside, untouched by our usual travel patterns. It was a temporary safehouse while we prepared our exit strategy out of Italy.

"Welcome home!" Damon said brightly.

He took my hand, guiding me across unfamiliar ground. The sunlight pressed warm against my skin, and I wore my sunglasses—not for vanity, but for protection. Even the faintest glare was a threat to healing eyes. Dust, heat, and dryness—I had to guard against them all.

"I want to sleep," I told him flatly.

"Food, baby. We need food!" he insisted, lifting me up into his arms like I weighed nothing.

I sighed and let myself sink into him, my arms lazily wrapping around his neck. Truth was, I was starving. So I gave in.

He brought me to the bedroom. The air there felt... familiar.

I could tell by the texture beneath my feet. Layered rugs—soft, varied, the same kind he used in our honeymoon suite in Hawaii, or the private bedroom he had customized for me back in the Philippines. Thoughtful. Methodical. Consistent. Damon always recreated comfort through small, physical details. And I remembered them all.

We ate pizza on the carpeted floor, a thick blanket spread beneath us. I finished one slice, but couldn’t stomach another. Exhaustion was beginning to win. My limbs were heavy, and my mind only wanted stillness.

He suggested a movie. Then, not so subtly, he hinted at a round of lovemaking.

I refused him both.

Instead, I got up and quietly went to the bathroom.

He helped me brush my teeth. That part was routine. Gentle, quiet. Then he left, giving me space.

And that’s when I noticed it.

The blur was... fading.

Not gone. But different.

The shadows had shape. Outlines that used to smear together now edged into contrast. My fingers tremble slightly as I hovered them near the mirror. I could sense it—something shifting, awakening in my vision.

Was I finally... nearing the moment I could see the world?

The thought didn’t scare me.

It thrilled me.

Because if I could see clearly—

Then no one could hide from me again.