Page 15

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Stefano

Cold sheets where warmth should be. The wrongness of it drags me from sleep, instincts firing before consciousness fully returns.

My hand reaches for Ava automatically, finding only empty space.

The silence in the penthouse screams danger.

"Ava?" My voice echoes through rooms that suddenly feel too large, too empty. No response. No sounds of her morning routine, no coffee brewing, no shower running.

Nothing.

I'm moving before my mind fully processes what's happening, checking each room with increasing urgency. Her clothes gone from the closet. Dance bag missing from its spot by the door. My car keys placed precisely on the dresser, a clear message if I've ever seen one.

Gone .

The realization hits me hard, making the monster in me roar to life. Because this isn't just absence, this is calculated escape. This is a professional disappearance.

My phone's already in my hand, Tomasso's number on the screen. He answers on the first ring, trained to recognize emergency.

"Find her," I snarl, not bothering with greetings. "Now."

"Boss?" His voice sharpens instantly. "What's happened?"

"She's gone. I want everything: traffic cameras, account activity, known associates. Every breath she's taken since she walked into my club."

A pause. Too long. "About that, Boss...there's something you should know."

Ice spreads through my veins. "Talk."

"I started digging after those dock incidents. Wanted to rule her out, you know?" His hesitation carries weight. "Her employment history before the club...with the other surname…there are gaps. Inconsistencies."

The crystal tumbler in my free hand shatters, sending shards and expensive whiskey across the marble floors.

"What kind of inconsistencies?"

"The kind that suggest professional training. And there were calls, traced to numbers associated with?—"

"With who?" But I already know. The monster in me has already pieced it together, has been trying to warn me while I ignored every sign.

"The Fiori family."

The name drops like a bomb. My vision bleeds red as pieces click into place—her sudden appearance, her careful questions, her interest in the Wednesday deliveries.

“Boss?" Tomasso's voice sounds distant beneath the roaring in my ears. "What do you want me to do?"

What do I want? I want to burn Chicago to the ground until I find her. I want to tear apart everyone who helped her deceive me. I want to show her exactly why they call me Monster.

I want to drag her back and cage her so completely she'll never think of leaving again.

The last thought brings me up short, clearing some of the rage. Because beneath the fury, beneath the betrayal, something else lurks: fear. Not of what she might have learned or who she might tell.

Fear of losing her. Again.

"Boss?" Tomasso prompts. "Should I put out the word? Standard protocol for traitors?—"

"No." The word comes out sharp, final. "This stays between us. Get me everything on her movements since last night. And Tomasso?" I pause. "Find out exactly what the Fioris promised her.”

"You think she was coerced?"

I look down at the keys she left, remembering how she trembled in my arms just hours ago, how she whispered my name like a prayer, how something in her eyes always seemed to be fighting between staying and running.

"I think," I say carefully, "that Ava D'Amato is about to learn exactly what happens when you try to con a monster."

I end the call, moving to the window where she stood just last night. My city spreads out below, and somewhere in its shadows, she's running. Planning. Maybe even thinking she's protecting me by leaving.

"Run all you want, tesoro ," I whisper to the dawn. "But remember, I told you once I'd follow you to the ends of the earth."

This time, I'll make sure she doesn’t slip through my fingers again.

* * *

My footsteps echo through the penthouse as I pace, each circuit marking another moment she's slipping further away.

The morning sun paints mockingly cheerful patterns across floors that still hold traces of her—a forgotten hair tie, the lingering scent of her perfume, the ghost of her laughter.

" Ti amo ," I'd whispered to her last night, letting my walls down like a fool, thinking I could trust the warmth in her eyes, the way she fit against me, the future I saw stretching out before us.

An amateur mistake. The kind of error that gets men like me killed.

My fist connects with the wall, sending spiderweb cracks through imported plaster. The pain centers me, reminds me who I am. What I am.

The Monster of Chicago, brought low by a con artist's smile.

I force myself to breathe, to think like the strategist who built an empire rather than the lovesick boy who lost her. There has to be something, some clue as to?—

The overflowing bathroom trash catches my eye. Strange. The cleaning service came yesterday.

I dig through it mechanically, training overtaking emotion, and?—

Three pregnancy tests. All positive.

The world stops spinning.

"No," I whisper, but the evidence is undeniable. Multiple brands, all showing the same result.

My knees hit marble as understanding crashes through me. The morning sickness. Her exhaustion. My initial instinct was right.

She's carrying my child.

The knowledge detonates something primal in my chest, triumph and terror warring for dominance. Because she's not just running from me now. She's running with my heir. My blood. My future.

My phone buzzes.

"Boss?" Tomasso's voice crackles through. "We've got movement on her accounts?—"

"She's pregnant." The words come out raw, dangerous.

Silence stretches across the line. Then, carefully, "You're sure?"

I laugh, the sound edged with hysteria. "Found the tests. Multiple positives. She knows, Tomasso. She knows and she still?—"

Still ran. Still chose the Fioris over me. Over us.

The rage surges back, stronger now. Because this isn't just betrayal anymore. This is theft of the highest order.

"Change of plans," I growl, pushing to my feet. "I want every medical facility in a hundred-mile radius monitored. She'll need prenatal care eventually. And get me everything on her brother's known associates. She won't leave him behind."

"Boss..." Tomasso hesitates. "If she's working for the Fioris and carrying your child..."

More pieces click into place. "Unless..."

Unless she's running from them too.

The thought snags something in my memory, her tension lately, the way she watched shadows, how she flinched at certain names. Not guilt, maybe.

Fear.

"Find out what the Fioris had on her," I order, mind racing with new possibilities. "What they used to control her. And Tomasso?"

"Sir?"

"When you find her—and you will find her—she comes to me unharmed. Anyone who touches her answers to me personally."

I end the call, staring at the pregnancy tests still clutched in my hand. My child. My Ava. Both out there somewhere, unprotected, while threats circle like vultures.

"I'll find you," I promise the empty air, letting the monster rise fully. "Both of you."

And God help anyone who tries to stop me.

Because she might have stolen my heart, might be carrying my heir, but she's forgotten one crucial detail.

I am not the man she knew at sixteen. I am not the love-struck boy who let her slip away once before.

I am the Monster of Chicago.

I open my phone, looking at traffic feeds. She can’t have gone far.

My phone vibrates against the marble counter. Tomasso's name flashes on the screen again.

"Tell me you found her."

"Boss..." His hesitation carries weight. "You might want to sit down for this."

Ice creeps through my veins. In our fifteen years of partnership, Tomasso has never suggested I sit for bad news. "Talk."

"We traced her initial contact before she came to the club. The money trail, the meetings..." He takes a breath. "She was hired by the Fioris. Specifically to infiltrate your organization."

"Keep talking."

"They approached her three months ago. Used her brother's safety as leverage. She was supposed to gather intel on your legitimate businesses, find proof of money laundering through the club."

A laugh tears from my throat, bitter and sharp. "The club. My legitimate business. The one fucking clean thing I built."

"There's more." Tomasso's voice drops lower. "She had a meet scheduled with her handler last night. Two am. She never showed."

The implication hits like a bullet. If she was working for the Fioris and failed to deliver...if she's running from them too...

"She's carrying my child," I say, the words tasting like ash and iron. "And now she's out there alone, pregnant, with the Fioris hunting her."

Silence stretches across the line as Tomasso processes this. Then, carefully: "What do you want me to do?"

What do I want? I want to tear Chicago apart brick by brick until I find her. I want to cage her in luxury that’s so lavish that she'll never think of leaving. I want to make her pay for every lie, every manipulation, every moment I let myself believe in something real.

I want to protect her from everything, including myself.

"She'll run somewhere isolated," I say, forcing myself to think strategically past the rage and betrayal burning in my chest. "Somewhere she thinks we won't look. Check property records in Montana."

"Montana?"

"She talked about it sometimes. Wide open spaces. Fresh air. A chance to start over." The memory of her voice describing her dreams twists something in my chest. "She wouldn't have shared that detail if it wasn't real."

Real. Like her smiles in the morning light. Like the way she held my sister's hand. Like the sound of her laugh when she thought I was being ridiculous.

Like the child growing inside her.

"Find her. Before they do. No one touches her but me. No one."

"You know this changes everything," Tomasso says quietly. "A baby. Your heir. The Fioris won't just kill her now. They'll use the child against you."

He's right. This isn't just about Ava anymore. This is about my blood. My legacy. My child who deserves better than being born into a war.

"Put everyone on it," I order, already moving toward my weapons safe. "I want eyes at every bus station, train depot, and highway heading west. Track her brother's phone, his gaming accounts, anything that might give us a direction. And Tomasso?"

"Sir?"

"Call our friends in the Montana territory. Tell them I'm calling in every favor they owe me. I want to know the second anyone matching their descriptions crosses the state line."

I end the call, staring out at my city as dawn paints it in shades of blood and gold. Somewhere out there, Ava's running, thinking she's protecting everyone by leaving, thinking she can outrun the Monster of Chicago.

Thinking she has a choice in any of this anymore.

"Run all you want, tesoro ," I whisper. "But you're carrying my heir now. And I'll burn down heaven and earth before I let anyone take what's mine."