Chapter 68: A Head
Bianca
It was very early in the morning.
I had just finished dressing when I headed straight to my study, not bothering to slow down or reconsider the exhaustion weighing on my body.
There was no time to waste.
Not when I had barely gotten three hours of sleep after receiving the report of the attack on Nico.
As if Gotti almost being burned alive in his own house wasn’t enough chaos for one night.
I was glad my husband was dead—but that didn’t mean I had any intention of joining him in the afterlife anytime soon.
Pushing the door open, I walked into the study without acknowledging Harry, my personal bodyguard and assistant, who followed closely behind me with a stack of reports and documents in his hands.
He didn’t speak.
He never did unless necessary.
I had just settled into my seat when I reached for the papers, flipping through them one by one. My eyes scanned each page carefully, committing every detail to memory until I could repeat the contents without looking.
Only then did I let out a slow breath.
Dropping the papers onto the table, I leaned back slightly before turning my gaze toward Harry, frustration settling deep in my chest.
"To attack Nico..." I muttered, my voice low but edged with tension. "Whoever it is isn’t ordinary."
And that alone made this dangerous.
To get the remaining fifty percent, I would either need to eliminate the threat—or kill Carmen.
The latter would be far easier.
At least once she was no longer under Nico’s protection.
"Are you still sending more women to him?" I asked, my tone sharper now.
Harry nodded immediately. "Yes."
Nothing more.
He never added unnecessary words, something I had long grown accustomed to.
"Hopefully one of them catches his attention," I groaned, pushing myself to my feet.
I planted my hands firmly on the table, my mind racing through possibilities, strategies, contingencies.
Everything felt unstable.
Uncertain.
Worse still was the growing realization that I could be next.
The thought lingered just long enough for Harry to finally speak again, his voice calm, measured.
"Your deal with the Venom cartel still stands," he said. "They may not be as terrifying as the Gallias, but they can hold their own. With the extra men they’ve sent, I don’t think there’s anything to worry about."
I was already shaking my head before he finished.
That kind of thinking got people killed.
Having spent enough time in this world, I knew better.
There was always something to worry about when you weren’t at the very top.
"Yes," I replied, exhaling slowly, "unless the Venom cartel is the hidden enemy and I’ve just signed my own death warrant."
The silence that followed was brief.
Heavy.
Before he could respond, I shook my head again.
"I’m not being paranoid, Harry. Something just... smells wrong."
I moved to sit back down, the tension in my shoulders refusing to ease—
when a loud knock echoed through the room.
Sharp.
Unexpected.
Harry moved instantly, crossing the room and pulling the door open without hesitation.
A young man stepped in.
He wore the same uniform as the other guards, though the badge pinned neatly to his chest marked him as one of the newer recruits. His posture was stiff, his grip firm around the large box he carried in his hands.
I studied him briefly.
Young.
Strong.
Unfamiliar.
One of the replacements I had hired after getting rid of those I couldn’t trust.
Harry didn’t wait for him to speak.
"Did you check the package?" he asked.
The young man shook his head. "We used the metal detector to make sure it wasn’t a bomb or anything harmful."
Harry nodded once, already taking the box from him.
"Leave."
The guard hesitated for the briefest moment, his eyes flickering toward me with something that resembled curiosity—or interest—before he bowed his head and exited the room.
I watched him go, mildly intrigued.
There was something about him.
Something that lingered.
Harry placed the box on the table and began unwrapping it carefully. I didn’t stop him, simply watching as he worked.
But halfway through, he paused.
His expression shifted—subtle, but noticeable.
A slight tightening.
Displeasure.
"What?" I asked, rising from my seat and stepping closer.
Harry didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he reached into the box.
And pulled something out.
A head.
Bloody.
Severed cleanly.
For a moment, everything inside me went completely still.
I recognized the face.
Harry placed it on the table as though it were nothing more than an object, already reaching into his pocket for a handkerchief to wipe the blood from his hands.
"It’s Kade’s friend," he said calmly. "He’s going to throw a fuss."
I already knew that.
I had met the man just yesterday.
The memory hit harder than I expected.
This wasn’t random.
This was a message.
A very clear one.
My hands curled into fists, anger rising fast, sharp, threatening to break through the control I had spent years mastering.
I was just about to tell Harry to get rid of it—
when he paused again.
"There’s more."
He reached back into the box and pulled out a blood-soaked envelope.
I exhaled slowly, forcing myself back into my chair as I reached for the unopened bottle of wine sitting on the table. My hands were steady as I poured a glass, even if everything else inside me was anything but.
"Read it," I said.
Harry opened the envelope with visible displeasure, carefully pulling out the letter inside.
"Greetings, Bianca," he began, his voice even. "You don’t know us, but we know you."
I took a sip of the wine.
Slow.
Measured.
"At first, we thought Kade’s head might be a better message," he continued, "but seeing as how you could be a potential asset, we decided his close friend would suffice."
My grip on the glass tightened.
"This is a partnership you can benefit from as well, seeing as you would want Carmen Castillo dead too. Whatever motherly feelings you might hold for Nico—kill it. Refuse to work with us and face the consequences."
The air in the room felt colder.
Sharper.
"In exchange, you will be allowed to manage the Northern Territory of Marcelle City under the leadership of the king."
I let out a slow breath, forcing myself to stay still instead of hurling the glass across the room.
"We will be in touch soon. Serve or die."
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Harry folded the letter and tossed it back into the box without a second thought, adjusting his glasses as though he had just finished reading a routine report.
"It’s a threat," he said, his gaze locking onto mine. "We don’t respond to threats."
I met his eyes, my expression hardening.
"No," I replied quietly. "We don’t."
But this wasn’t something I could ignore.
"Find the delivery person," I ordered, my voice tightening with controlled anger. "And everyone connected to that package."
Harry nodded once.
"Use our contacts in the city police force if you have to."
It would cost money.
A lot of it.
Money I was already bleeding just to keep control over men who would rather rule than follow—especially under a woman.
Especially when most of them still believed Carmen had inherited everything Gabriel left behind.
"Fuck!"
My hand slammed against the table, pain shooting up my arm, but I didn’t care.
The glass slipped from my grip, shattering against the floor.
I pushed myself to my feet immediately, already moving toward the door.
There was no time to sit.
No time to think.
Only to act.
Behind me, Harry lifted the box without hesitation, already prepared to handle what came next—autopsy, analysis, DNA tracing.
