Page 112

The night reeks of blood.

Not mine. Not yet.

But it will be. Before this is over, I’ll drown this fucking world in it if that’s what it takes to get her back.

My knuckles are split. Again. I don’t remember the punch that did it. Don’t care. The pain helps me focus, keeps the red from blinding me.

“Dante, talk to me.”

Dante’s voice cuts through the silence like a blade. “Still nothing from the mole. But we’re close with the surveillance.”

Close isn’t good enough.

She’s out there, pregnant and scared. Abducted by a man who doesn’t deserve to breathe.

And I can feel her. Somewhere out there in the dark, she’s waiting. Her heart calling out for me to find her.

And I swear to God, if Nicolai lays a hand on her, I’ll tear him apart with my bare hands, piece by piece.

The man whimpers at my feet, blood dripping from his mouth, his breathing sharp and wet. I crouch beside him, not gently. My tone is a whisper dragged through gravel.

“Dove cazzo la sta tenendo?” Where the fuck is he keeping her?

His head lolls. His left eye is already swollen shut. The other flicks to Dante behind me, silent, watching, fingers dancing across the tablet in his hands as surveillance footage flickers across the screen.

“I-io non lo so...” the bastard stammers.

I grab his face, thumb pressing into the mess of his cheekbone until he screams. “Try again.”

A new feed loads with a soft chime behind me. Dante doesn’t look up. “I’ve got something. Cameras caught the SUV heading south out of Messina. But I don’t think that’s where they are. It’s too clean. Too obvious and Nicolai is smarter than that.”

“A burner dump?”

He nods. “Most likely. My guess is they planted it there to throw us off. Made it look like they were headed for Syracuse or the southeastern coast. But I dug deeper.”

He swipes, revealing a different route. “The real movement? It’s inland. I think they took them west, through the interior, through Enna or somewhere even more remote. Somewhere with no traffic, no eyes.”

I let go of the man’s face and stand. “Strip the skin from his back,” I tell Vincenzo who is standing beside me.

“Make it clean. We’ll hang him if he’s still lying.

Get me something, or your throat will be the next one I rip out.

” Vincenzo nods, and gestures to one of the other guards to help carry him. The man sobs as they drag him away.

I light a cigarette with shaking fingers and stare through the smoke.

I’m coming for you, bambina. Both of you. Even if I have to rip this world apart, I’m going to find you.

And I swear to everything holy, Nicolai won’t live long enough to regret taking you.

“Ti ho preso, figghiu di buttana.” Got you, son of a bitch. I hear Dante utter out loud. “Ares.” I look over at him and he tips his head, beckoning me to him.

“Here. The last ping came from Buseto Palizzolo, rural hills east of Trapani. Mostly farmland, abandoned estates, a few empty villas.” Dante glances at me. “My guess? Wherever they’re keeping her isn’t far from there.”

“Trapani.”

He nods. “They’ll want the coast. Private docks near Marausa or Pizzolungo, quiet, fast access. They’re moving her by boat. Sardinia’s their endgame.”

My hands fists at my sides, nails biting into my palm. “Then we start there,” I answer. “And we don’t stop until every fucker between me and her is in the ground.”

Dante nods, already moving. “I’ll gather up the boys.”

As Dante disappears into the shadows to rally the crew, I let the cigarette burn between my fingers until it sears the skin, the pain grounding me in the chaos.

My mind races with possibilities, each darker than the last. The thought of her, alone with him, afraid, sharpens my resolve into something unrecognisable, something untamed .

The silence stretches like a taut wire in the dim room, broken only by the faint hum of a distant generator.

An hour later Dante returns, his face a mask of determination, flanked by the crew, each man armed and ready for what lies ahead. He throws me a bag, heavy with weapons, and I catch it without a word.

“We’re loaded.” he says brusquely. “Enough for a war if that’s what it comes to.”

I nod, slinging the strap over my shoulder. “It will.”

The tension in the room thickens as the crew disperses to prepare. I glance at Dante. “The coastline. You’re sure?”

His gaze hardens. “I’m as sure as I can be. Moretti won’t be expecting us… not yet. They’re too comfortable, hiding in the dark.”

He pauses.

“Unless…”

My eyes narrow to slits. “Unless what?”

Dante sighs, glancing at the iPad he’s holding. “Unless it’s bait. A trail they left for us to follow. Could be a trap.”

I shake my head. “Let them try. I’m not walking into this; I’m tearing through it.”

My voice drops lower to a growl. “They wanted war. They’ve got it. And I’m bringing hell in both hands.”

Dante nods in understanding, I can feel the tension rolling off him like a second skin. He knows that tone. He’s heard it before, just before I painted the streets of Messina in Romano’s blood.

“We’ll hit the road in ten,” he mutters already moving, phone pressed to his ear as he barks orders to prep the convoy. “Load the weapons, clear the routes. No one moves unless I say.”

I watch him go, heart pounding a slow, murderous rhythm inside my chest.

Ten minutes. That’s all they have left.

I stare unblinking at the screen long after Dante disappears, the blue glow casting sharp lines across my face.

Buseto Palizzolo. A place I’ve never had reason to think about until now.

A quiet stretch of Sicilian land, forgotten by most, ignored by time.

The perfect place to hide something precious. Or someone .

Or to bury a body.

The thought guts me, splits me right down the middle, but I force it back. Nicolai won’t kill her. Not yet. She’s too valuable, too tied to whatever twisted game he’s playing. Bianca… maybe. But Jordyn?

She’s leverage. A message. A knife to the throat meant for me.

This isn’t a pissing contest over power. It’s retribution, for Luca, for the blood I spilled, for the pride I shattered when I left his son barely breathing and dumped at his door.

My knuckles crack as I flex my fists, the silence around me pressing in like a vice.

I should be moving, barking orders, but all I can do is stand there and feel , rage coiled so tight inside my chest it feels like I might implode.

My mouth is dry, but I don’t move for water.

My muscles ache to do something , but the only thing I want to do is put my hands around Nicolai Moretti’s throat and squeeze until his heartbeat gives out beneath my palms.

Instead, I glance down at my wrist.

The hair tie is still there, black, soft, stretched from wear. She left it on my nightstand the last night we had together. I remember brushing her hair back with it, the feel of her skin under my fingertips. She laughed when I called it ugly. Said it had survived more than I had.

I twist it once, then again, until it’s tight against my skin.

It’s stupid. A piece of elastic and thread. But it feels like her. And right now, I’ll take anything that keeps me anchored. Because the rage is rising, and if I don’t keep it chained, I’ll burn the whole goddamned coast before I even find her.

I exhale through my nose, slow and sharp.

Just hold on a little while longer, bambina. I’m coming. And nothing, not traps, not soldiers, not even God himself, will stop me.

She was on her way to the airport. She was leaving . To protect me. To protect our unborn child. That’s when they got her. And the thought of her reaching for something that looked like freedom only to be stolen into the dark?

I could rip the fucking earth in half.

Behind me, the sound of boots echoes against the stone floor. The men are ready. I hear the low murmur of voices, metal clinking as weapons are checked and loaded. Dante’s barking orders, astute and cold. He knows better than to ask if I’m good. We passed that point hours ago.

I lift my head and turn toward the door.

My voice is steady when I speak, but the air around me vibrates with heat.

“We move now. No stops. No second guessing. If anyone gets in our way, kill them.”

One of the soldiers gives a clipped nod, disappearing into the hall.

I take one last glance at the glowing map, then reach for my jacket. My gun. My blade.

They took her.

But they forgot one thing.

I don’t stop until what’s mine is back in my arms.

And this time, I’m not leaving anyone alive.

The wind howls past my ears, drowning out the roar of the engines as we tear down the coastal road like hounds unleashed from the fiery pit.

My fists are locked tight on the handlebars so tight they’re aching, jaw clenched beneath the visor of my helmet.

Every breath feels like it might shatter me, but still, I push faster.

Dante rides just ahead, his black helmet glinting under the dying light as the day fades and the night starts to set in.

His Ducati weaves effortlessly between cars like he’s part of the machine.

Behind us, the convoy snakes along the road, four SUVs packed with men and steel, tires chewing up asphalt as if the world itself knows we’re coming and is preparing for the carnage.

The ocean blurs beside us, a smear of deep blue on our left, cliffs and crumbling stone walls to our right. Everything smells like salt, exhaust, and vengeance.

A car tries to merge. I don’t slow. I don’t move. I swerve around it with barely an inch to spare, the growl of the engine splitting the silence that’s settled inside me since she was taken.

Jordyn.

I see her beautiful face every time I blink. Hear her scream even when the road noise should drown everything else out.

I lean forward, riding lower, pushing the bike harder until the speedometer flickers red, warning me I’m on the edge. Good. Let it burn. Let it fucking break. I won’t stop.

Not until I have her back in my arms where she belongs.