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“Find the guard who let her walk out of the villa.” Dante’s gaze hardens, but he nods. “I’m going to deal with him personally after.”
I swing my leg over the Ducati, the engine growling as it roars to life.
“And sweep the villa,” I snap. “The bedroom, living room, kitchen, I want eyes on everything. Look for anything, see if she left something behind. A note, a message, I don’t care if it’s written in steam on the mirror. Find me something, Dante.”
I need a fucking reason.
Dante is already mounting his bike as I twist the throttle and shoot off down the road.
I don’t look back. I don’t need to, I know he’s already following.
Whatever Jordyn was running from...I’m about to face it head-on.
The ride back to the manor is thirty-five minutes.
I make it in twenty. The Ducati snarls beneath me, eating up the road as the estate rises ahead like a monument to every mistake I never buried deep enough.
Wind lashes my face, but it does nothing to cool the fire crawling beneath my skin.
My hands are numb from the throttle and my blood is molten beneath my skin.
Luciano offered her a way out once. I told him to stay the fuck out of it.
He didn’t listen. Of course he fucking didn’t.
The gates of the Russo estate appear at the crest of the hill. I don’t wait for them to fully open. I blow through. The guards jump out of the way, too slow, too stupid to matter.
Gravel spits behind my tyres as I cut the engine in front of the main house and kick the stand. I’m off the bike before the engine finishes growling.
Boots thunder up the stone steps. The front doors blast open under my palm. One of the maids polishing one of the ornaments starts, shrinking back against the wall. I ignore her as I stalk down the corridor, straight toward the study.
No hesitation. No second thoughts. Just one name pulsing through my skull like a war drum. Don Luciano Russo.
I reach the study doors, of course they’re closed. And for some reason that only adds to my fury as I kick them open so hard they slam into the walls.
Luciano’s eyes snap up, he is behind the desk, leaning back in his leather chair like he’s expecting me. Like this is just another morning.
He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t stand. Just lifts his espresso to his lips and sips, calm as ever.
“Ares,” he says, like he’s greeting a guest. “Sembri... teso .” You look...tense.
I don’t answer. I step forward and pull the envelope from my jacket and toss it beside it, cash and the I.D cards spill out onto the desk.
The tools he gave her to vanish. His handiwork, plain as fucking day.
“Where is she?” I grit out through clenched teeth.
Luciano glances at the envelope, then lifts his eyes to mine.
“Who?” His calm demeanour maddens me further.
I glare at him. “Non fare il fottuto ingenuo.” Don’t play the fucking fool. “You know exactly who I'm talking about. You think I don’t recognise Tomaso’s work? That’s your forger. The IDs, the cash, it has your stench all over it.”
Luciano leans back in his chair, lacing his fingers together, dark eyes narrowing before she speaks. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replies evenly. “You barge into my office, throwing accusations, waving around some documents, forgive me if I’m not a mind reader, Ares.”
“Don’t.” My voice drops into something colder.
“Don’t fucking patronise me.” I step closer.
“You told her to leave once before, and she politely told you to go fuck yourself. So, what did you say this time, huh?” My voice rises, fury uncoiling.
“What did you do to convince her to walk away? What did you threaten her with?”
His expression doesn’t change. “I told her to leave you before you got yourself killed, yes.” he answers, measured and soft. “But I haven’t seen the girl, nor spoken to her since the night she left with you, figlio . And that’s the truth.”
Figlio. That fucking word. That tone. Fuck, it grates me . But the composure in his voice is what tips me. “You’re full of shit.”
He shrugs like we’re discussing weather. “She was still at your villa the last I heard.”
Wrong fucking answer.
I slam my hand down on the desk hard enough to make the espresso cup jump.
“She was taken,” I growl. “On her way to the airport. Two black SUVs. She didn’t plan it. She panicked. Ran. Because someone got in her head.”
He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even blink.
“You think I had something to do with that?”
“I don’t think, I know . You’ve wanted her gone since the beginning. No one would benefit more from her disappearing.”
Luciano folds his hands slowly, watching me like I’m a child throwing a tantrum.
“Like I said, I haven’t seen Jordyn since the night she left with you.
If she’s gone now and didn’t tell you...
that’s on you, figlio. Maybe she finally realised who you really are.
Saw the blood on your hands, the storm in your eyes, and ran.
Just like I warned you she would. I told you she wasn’t built for this world. ”
No. That’s bullshit. If she was going to run, she would have done it when I told her everything I've done. When I showed her the real me. She vowed that she would stand by my side and burn with me if that’s what it took.
Why would she run now? No, it’s something else.
Someone got into her head and spooked her.
I step around the desk, draw my gun without another word and press the barrel to his forehead.
His eyes never leave mine.
“I’m going to ask you one more time,” I say, voice shaking from the storm boiling under the surface. “Where. Is. She?” I hiss through clenched teeth.
Luciano exhales slowly, like he’s bored. Like he’s indulging me. Then, with infuriating calm, he says, “You’re really pointing a gun at your father… over some girl?”
“She my girl and you...you’re not a father,” I hiss. “You’re a puppet master with no puppet. Just strings rotting in your hands.”
His eyes narrow slightly. Still no fear. Just calculation. “I’m ready to burn this world to cinders,” I whisper, pressing the muzzle harder into his skull. “Do you think I won’t end you right now?” Luciano holds my gaze for a long, taut second.
“You always did mistake recklessness for strength.”
“And you always did mistake control for love.” I retort.
Silence crackles between us. He thinks he still owns me, he doesn’t realise, I’ve already lit the fucking match.
“She was taken an hour ago,” I growl. “Both her and Bianca dragged off the road. Intercepted by two SUVs. Precision hit. You expect me to believe that’s coincidence? I don’t fucking think so.”
Luciano doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just watches me, this man who made me, broke me, shaped me into the blade he never had the guts to hold himself.
But something flickers behind his eyes now. It's not fear, no, it's awareness.
He knows I mean it. He knows I will kill him without hesitation.
“You always were dramatic, figlio.” he says at last, voice low. “Fire in your blood. No leash long enough to hold you. Just like your mother.”
The mention of her snaps something clean in my spine. My finger tightens on the trigger, and I press the barrel of the gun harder into his temple. “Don’t fucking talk about her .”
Before he can respond, Enzo’s voice fills the room. “Ares!” I don’t at look at him “Put the fucking gun down,” he shouts, stepping into the room.
“Stay out of this,” I say, eyes still locked on Luciano. “This is between me and him.”
“What the hell is going on?” Enzo demands, breath ragged, his footsteps halting behind me. “What happened?”
Luciano speaks before I do. Smooth and composed. “Your brother seems to think I had something to do with Jordyn’s disappearance.”
Enzo goes still. “Disappearance? What is he talking about?”
“She was taken,” I snap. “Intercepted on her way to the airport by two SUVs. No trace. I found her tracking bracelet on the side of the fucking road. Blood on your wife’s car.”
Enzo stumbles forward a step. “What?” he utters baffled as he steps to stand beside me. “ Bianca’s car?”
“Yes, your wife was driving her to the airport,” I grit out, every word sharp enough to draw blood.
“But they never fucking made it. Jordyn and Bianca, gone. Taken right off the road. And your father?” I shoot Luciano a glare like a loaded barrel.
“He’s about to tell me who the fuck helped pull it off.
Because someone knew. Someone planned this.
And if it wasn’t him… maybe it was one of his friends, like the fucking Mancini’s. ”
I glance back just enough to see the confusion and concern etched across his face. There’s no sign of guilt.
It’s shock. Genuine shock. Maybe he didn’t know. Maybe Luciano didn’t let his lapdog in on the plan where he used Bianca to lure Jordyn into a trap. Doesn’t mean I trust him, though.
Luciano doesn’t flinch. But he doesn’t have to. I already know.
“You knew she wouldn’t listen to you,” I say, my voice low, venomous. “So, you found the weakest link, Bianca, and manipulated her. Slipped her the envelope. Told her Jordyn needed to disappear, for my sake. For her own good. Gave her the cash, the new IDs, a clean escape, forged by one of ours .”
I lean closer, my gaze locked on the man I refuse to call father. “You orchestrated it. Kept your hands clean while you let someone else do your dirty work. Like fucking always.”
Luciano finally speaks, voice calm, too calm.
“I did it for you. For your future,” he says calmly.
“Because your judgement is clouded. You forgot who you are. What you are. You don’t get to play house with some girl and pretend the world won’t burn around you.
” He stares up at me. “You want to be king? You need to act like it. Giana is your future. That’s the alliance.
That’s the legacy. Jordyn… was nothing more than a distraction. ..a liability.”
My vision blacks out at the edges. A legacy? He fed her to the wolves… for a fucking legacy?
Table of Contents
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- Page 108 (Reading here)
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