Chapter 12: Return to Bellissimo
Chapter 12: Return to Bellissimo
By the time I made it back to the city, the rain had started to fall, casting a slick sheen over the pavement. The restaurant, Bellissimo, looked identical from the outside—warm amber lights glowing invitingly through pristine, rain-streaked windows. It looked like a normal, high-end Italian eatery winding down for the night. But a closer look revealed the truth: the front entrance was chained shut from the inside, and a towering man in a heavy, dark trench coat stood guard in the foyer, his hand resting conspicuously inside his lapel.
I bypassed the front entirely, melting into the shadows and slipping through the damp, narrow alleyway leading to the kitchen's delivery entrance. The transition was jarring. The mouth-watering smell of roasted garlic, rich butter, and simmering marinara that usually lingered in this alley was now overwhelmed by the sharp, metallic, unmistakable scent of fresh blood.
Kneeling by the heavy steel service door, I pulled a slim titanium lockpick set from my collar. My hands moved with practiced, surgical precision. I picked the heavy-duty deadbolt in under ten seconds. Easing the door open, I slid silently into the dimly lit, stainless-steel labyrinth of the restaurant's kitchen, merging with the shadows like a ghost.
