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“Put the gun down, Stefan,” Matty says calmly from my right side.

“No! You need me. TheFamiglianeeds someone to respect and you know it!”

Delusion is strong in this one.

“Not gonna happen, mate. We all know this ends tonight with you off to meet your maker,” as Matty talks to him, I mouth to Francesca that it’ll all be okay and the trust that gleams in her eyes nearly brings me to my knees.

“...Unless you put down that gun now. You do that and we’ll leave you to get out of the city so long as you never come back,” Matty continues.

Stefan shuffles his feet. He’s contemplating it.Come on, man. Cut your losses.

“Gun down now and you walk out of here,” Matty repeats.

Finally, dropping his head in defeat, Stefan tosses his gun to the ground and puts his hands in the air. Massi dashes forward and picks it up, emptying the clip and tossing it to the side.

“Okay, I did what you asked…” Stefan whines nervously as Matty prowls towards him.

Matty has Stefan’s face pressed into the concrete in no time, arms twisted up behind his back.

“Stand up, dickhead,” he orders and Stefan staggers to his feet with assistance.

My favourite eyes in the entire world haven’t left mine the entire time and the moment Matty has the man incapacitated, I rush forward and press a brief kiss to her forehead before making quick work of untying her bounds.

Massimo kneels to untie her feet and slowly and I gently peel the masking tape from Francesca’s poor chapped mouth. Swallowing the urge to kiss them better, I run my thumb lightly over her sore red lips and she whimpers slightly.

“Hey,” is all I can manage to say, the lump in my throat threatening to set off emotions I didn’t even know I had.

“Hello,” she rasps back, her voice barely a whisper.

“Are you hurt?” I run my eyes over her and spot some bruises and scrapes, but no obvious signs of major trauma.

She shakes her head. “Just cold and a bit bruised.”

The relief at finding her relatively unharmed has washed over me like a drug hitting my bloodstream. I feel euphoric, but also really weak as if I could collapse to my knees.

Once she is completely free to move, Massimo gently lifts her into a big bear hug and she softly begins to cry against his chest. My chest aches and I itch to take her in my arms, even though I shouldn’t.

“Bastard got away,” Elio pants as he returns from chasing Billy. He takes in the scene in front of him and nods in approval. “Glad you’re okay, sweetheart,” he says, stepping forward to pull her into a hug and resting a hand gently on the back of her head.

Jealousy surges through my relief, green and toxic, but when I look up she has her gaze firmly on me even as he embraces her. Even Elio’s use of the name ‘sweetheart’ feels familial rather than romantic. Not that this gets my jealousy under control.

Francesca’s tears suddenly intensify and she cries out, “I’m so sorry!” She repeats it over and over as Elio lets her go.

“What are you sorry for?” he asks her, confused.

“I-I-I wasn’t k-kidnapped,” she stutters. “N-not really.”

The four of us trade frowns before Massimo pushes her for more information.

“I r-r-ran…I ran away…I didn’t want to get married,” she sobs. “I thought…he would help me. He’s m-my brother!”

“I told you I didn’t kidnap her!” Stefan spits furiously but shuts his mouth quickly after taking in Matty’s death stare.

“Jesus Christ,” Elio mutters, stepping away and resting his hands on top of his head. I just shake my head sadly.

“Don’t apologise, babe,” Massimo says sympathetically. “I would have run away too.”

And he’s right. Any one of us would run away from a forced marriage. Elio has essentially been doing just that this entire time. The poor girl was desperate. She would have to be to turn to that fuckin’ weasel brother of hers for help.