Page 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Ava

The hotel room door bursts open, making me jump from where I've been pacing. Tomasso stumbles in first, supporting Tony who looks...

My heart stops.

Blood. Bruises. The way he can barely stand. But alive. Breathing.

No Stefano.

"Where is he?" The words come out sharp, desperate. "Tomasso, where is he?"

But I already know. I can read it in the defeat in Tomasso's stance, the way he won't meet my eyes, the tremor in his usually steady hands as he helps Tony to a chair.

"They double-crossed us." His voice is rough, like he's been shouting. "It was never about the club. Never about the routes."

"Tell me." I move closer, tracking details through the panic—the fresh scrapes on Tomasso's knuckles, the tear in his suit jacket, the gun missing from his shoulder holster. "Tell me everything."

Tony makes a sound between a sob and a laugh. "They just wanted him. The whole time. Used me as bait..."

"The exchange seemed legitimate," Tomasso continues, still not meeting my eyes. "They brought Tony out. We verified the paperwork. But when Stefano was about to sign..."

He trails off, and the silence screams with everything he's not saying.

"How many?" My voice comes out steady despite the fear clawing at my throat.

"Too many. They had men hidden everywhere. Professional hit squad mixed with their regular muscle." Finally, he looks at me. "They were never going to let him walk out."

The world tilts dangerously, but I force myself to focus. "And you just left him?"

" We barely made it out. He ordered us to run." Tomasso's hands clench into fists. "Screamed at us to get out while he held them off. I've never...I've never heard him sound like that."

Ice floods my veins as the full picture emerges. This wasn't just a double-cross. This was a carefully planned trap. The Fioris never wanted territory or money.

They wanted Stefano himself.

And now they have him.

"You left him." It’s an accusation this time. "You, his most trusted man, his right hand. You ran."

"He ordered?—"

The crack of my palm against his cheek echoes in the hotel room. Tony makes a startled sound, but I barely hear it over the roaring in my ears.

"He was outnumbered! Fighting for his life! And you just—" Another slap, which he takes without flinching. "You abandoned him!"

"Ava," Tony tries to intervene, but I wave him off.

My hands shake as I step back from Tomasso, mind already racing ahead. Because this anger, while real, isn't productive. It isn't going to save Stefano.

"How long?" I ask, already moving toward the door.

"Ava—"

"How long since you left him?"

Tomasso glances at his watch. "Twenty minutes. Maybe twenty-five."

Twenty-five minutes of what? Torture? Interrogation? Is he even still...

No. Can't think like that. Can't let fear paralyze me.

Time to be the daughter my parents raised.

Time to save the father of my child.

Even if it kills me.

I force myself to focus on Tony first, examining his injuries with hands that I refuse to let shake. Split lip. Black eye. Bruised ribs from the way he's holding himself. But alive. Breathing. Here.

"They kept asking what I knew," he mumbles as I clean the blood from his face. "About the club. About you.”

"Save your strength," I tell him, but my mind races. The Fioris think Tony knows something. Think I told him details about my mission that I never shared.

Which means they'll keep hurting Stefano trying to verify information that doesn't exist.

"Tell me exactly what happened," I say to Tomasso, who's pacing like a caged animal. "Every detail."

"The exchange point was an old warehouse." His voice is clipped, professional despite the tension radiating from him. "We verified their numbers—twelve visible guards, nothing we couldn't handle. They brought Tony out, let us check he was alive. Everything seemed standard."

"Until?" I press antiseptic against Tony's split lip, making him hiss.

"Until Stefano was about to sign the transfer papers.”

"What happened next?"

"It was like they materialized from the walls. Twenty, maybe thirty more men. All armed. All professional." He runs a hand through his hair, messing up his usually perfect appearance. "Stefano realized what was happening first. Started fighting before they could completely surround him."

Tony makes a sound like a wounded animal. "My fault. All my fault."

"No." I grip his shoulder, probably harder than I should. "The Fioris did this. Not you."

"He fought like a demon," Tomasso continues. "Took down four of them before they could react. Screamed at us to run while he kept them busy. I tried to get to him, but there were too many..."

I can almost see Stefano fighting impossible odds, sacrificing himself to save my brother. To give us time to escape.

To protect what's his, like always.

"They weren't even trying to kill him," Tomasso adds quietly. "They wanted him alive. Which means..."

"Which means they have plans." I finish cleaning Tony's face, mind already spinning with ways to turn this nightmare to our advantage.

Because that's what con artists do, isn't it? Find leverage. Create opportunities. Turn bad situations into winning hands.

And right now, I have something the Fioris want more than territory or money or even Stefano himself.

His heir.

The thought barely has time to form before I'm moving, reaching for my phone. Tomasso starts to say something, probably trying to stop me.

Time to play my final card.

Time to save the man I love.

Even if he hates me for it afterward.

"You were trained better than this," I tell Tomasso, voice steadier now. "We all were. And now you're going to help me fix it."

He straightens his tie, composed even with the red marks blooming on his cheeks. "Whatever you're thinking?—"

"The Fioris want power." I'm already pulling out my phone, fingers moving with purpose. "They want control. They want Stefano's empire. All of it."

"Which they'll get by controlling him," Tomasso points out.

"No." A cold smile crosses my face. "They'll get it by controlling his heir."

Understanding dawns in his eyes. "Ava, no. He'd never forgive me if I let you?—"

"You lost the right to protect his wishes when you left him behind." The words are cruel but necessary. "Now you're going to help me save him, or I swear to God I'll tell every family in Chicago how the great Tomasso ran while his boss fought alone."

Low blow, but it works. I see the moment he surrenders, shoulders slumping slightly.

"What's your play?"

"Simple." I dial my Fiori contact's number. "I offer them something more valuable than Stefano himself. Something that will give them control of his empire for generations."

"The baby," Tony whispers, horror in his voice.

"His heir." I correct. "The future of the Rega family. Along with every piece of intelligence I gathered while working at the club."

"They'll kill you both," Tomasso warns.

"No." My voice certain now. "They'll negotiate. Because that's what the Fioris do. They'll want to control us, not destroy us."

Even if I’m wrong, even if they just want to kill us all, it’ll still give me a way in. A chance to turn their game against them.

One last con.

One final play.

"Keep my brother safe," I tell Tomasso as I hit dial. "That's an order from your boss's wife."

The phone rings once, twice. I catch my reflection in the window—pale but determined. The face of a woman about to risk everything.

The face of someone with nothing left to lose.

The line connects, and a familiar voice answers—smooth, cultured, dangerous. "Ava. I was wondering when you'd call."

"Put him on." My voice comes out steady despite my racing heart. "I want proof he's alive."

"Demanding, for someone in your position." But I hear movement, muffled voices. Then, "Say hello to your wife, Stefano."

"Ava, don't." His voice is rough, pained, but alive. "Whatever they want, don't?—"

The sound of flesh hitting flesh makes me flinch, but I keep my voice level. "That's enough. Now listen carefully, because I'm about to offer you something much more valuable than just Stefano Rega."

"Oh?" The Fiori voice returns, interested despite its attempt at casualness. "And what might that be?"

"His heir."

The silence that follows is deafening. In the background, I hear Stefano cursing, fighting. There are more sounds of struggle.

"Explain." Just one word, but it’s loaded.

"You know I'm pregnant." The words come out clear, firm. "Carrying the next generation of the Rega family. The future of his empire."

More silence, but I know what they are thinking.

"I can offer you this leverage, along with everything I know about his operation," I continue. "Every route, every contact, every piece of intelligence I’ve gathered while working at the club. Things even Stefano doesn't know I found out."

"Ava, NO!" Stefano's voice, desperate now. "Don't you dare!"

"Interesting." The Fiori voice cuts him off. "Very interesting. And what do you want in exchange?"

"A trade. Me for him. Simple, clean." I pace as I talk, the movement helping me think. "You get his heir, his secrets, and a way to control his empire for a long, long time. All he gets is his life—kind of."

"And why would you offer this?"

"Because I'm a survivor." The truth slips into my lie, making it stronger. "Because I know which way the wind is blowing. Because I'd rather be on the winning side."

There are more struggling sounds in the background and more cursing in Italian.

"You realize," the voice says carefully, "that once you're here, there's no leaving. No running. No games."

"I understand perfectly." My free hand rests on my stomach, protecting our child even now. "Do we have a deal?"

The pause feels endless. In the corner of my eye, I see Tomasso shaking his head, Tony crying silently.

"Deal," the voice finally says. "Come alone. I'll text you the location."

"Ava!" Stefano's voice, more desperate than I've ever heard it. "Don't do this! Please!"

I end the call before his pleas can break my resolve.

Time to move.

I grab Tomasso's car keys. They're heavy in my hand. They weigh more than just metal. They are heavy with fate.

"Keep him safe," I tell Tomasso. Not a request. A command.

“You can’t go alone. We don’t know where they’ve moved him. Let me?—”

“Your team was of no use, Tomasso.” I sigh. “Besides, they will know if I’m being followed. But be ready in case I need backup. I’ll find a way to contact you.”

Tony looks shell-shocked, tears tracking through the dirt and bruises on his face. "Ava, no. You can't?—"

"I can." My voice doesn't waver. It’s a con artist's trick. Confidence is its own weapon. "And I will."

Tomasso steps forward, something like respect and terror mixing in his eyes. "This is suicide.”

I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. "Been practicing that my whole life."

The hallway stretches before me, hotel luxury feeling like a prison more than ever before. Each step feels like a countdown, like I'm walking toward something that will change everything.

Which, I suppose, I am.

My fingers trace the wedding ring Stefano forced on me today. Gilded cage, he called it. Protection disguised as possession. But right now? It feels like my only connection to something real.

To him.

The elevator mirrors reflect back yet another version of myself. Dark hair pulled back ruthlessly. Eyes sharper than any blade. Cream dress from our wedding that now feels like armor.

My mother would be proud. My father would be taking notes.

I'm doing exactly what they taught me to do. Create the escape. Survive.

But this time, I'm not just saving myself.

I'm saving everyone.

The hotel lobby blurs around me. Doormen. Guests. Security. All potential threats. All potential opportunities. Old habits die hard, and my brain is working overtime.

Outside, Chicago's night swallows me whole. Cold wind cuts through my dress. It reminds me I'm alive. For now.

My phone buzzes. The Fiori’s location. Another abandoned warehouse. Of course.

Typical mob men. Some things never change.

The car starts with a purr. Tomasso keeps his vehicles in perfect condition. I smile at his professional pride, even in the midst of chaos.

Then I drive into the night. Toward whatever comes next.

Toward a war I intend to win.