Page 8

I watch as the car pulls away and Bianca waves and blows kisses at us until they disappear out of the gates of the manor. Leaving me standing there... trying to shake the sudden, hollow feeling from my chest.

While I’m genuinely thrilled for Bianca, there’s this undeniable twinge of sadness knowing she won’t be nearby anymore. She’ll be a thousand miles away, living in a different country, in a whole new world.

She couldn’t have fallen for a good-looking Italian man who lives in London...oh no. She had to go and fall in love with one who lives sixteen-hundred miles away in Italy.

And sure, the thought of her being surrounded by vibrant culture, romantic sunsets, and the kind of scenery you see in films fills me with admiration and envy … but deep down, selfishly, I want her close. I want her home with us.

Who am I going to bicker with over who gets to use the bathroom first now.

Shit, it’s really starting to hit me how much I’m going to miss her.

“Come on darling, we still have bags to pack before our flight.” Mum says as she throws her arm over my shoulder and leads me back inside the manor.

We came to Sicily with one suitcase each, somehow, we have wound up with two additional cases and three bags. “Jesus, how much did you shop, Anna?” I hear my Dad grunt as he and one of the Russo’s drivers play suitcase Tetris in the boot of one of the cars.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to, dear.” I let out a snicker when my Dad stills and shoots her a playful glare and she shrugs back at him sheepishly.

“Well,” Dad huffs, stepping back and placing his hands on his hips while he stares at the luggage’s hanging out of the boot of the car. “All these bags won’t fit. We’ll have to load it in the back and have Jord hold a case in her lap or get a second car.”

I scowl at him and look at the large cases. Brilliant. An hour squashed in the back of the car with that heavy thing crushing my legs sounds delightful. Before Dad can suggest anything else, Luciano Russo steps forward, his voice smooth but firm.

“James, don’t stress, we’ll arrange another car,” he says, glancing over his shoulder. “Matteo, you’ll take Jordyn and follow them to the airport.”

Uh, what? An hour journey with Matteo... alone ?

Matteo, who’d been leaning against a wall with his hands stuffed into his pockets, watching the entire spectacle gives a lazy salute. “Sí, Nonno.”

Once the cars are loaded with the bags, we say our customary goodbye to Luciano Russo and pile into the cars to start our journey to the airport.

As I climb into Matteo’s sleek, black Ferrari Portofino, because of course the playboy prince of the Russo family would drive a Ferrari, I feel a gnawing deep in my gut.

It’s a feeling I can’t quite place. It’s not nerves of being alone with Matteo, no, something feels off.

.. almost like impending doom. Maybe I’m just sad that we’re heading home to a life without my big sister.

Matteo’s Ferrari growls to life, the low, throaty purr of the engine filling the driveway.

The car is sleek and predatory, all smooth lines and quiet power, the deep metallic black paint catching flashes of the morning sun.

The leather seats are butter-soft beneath me, the interior smelling faintly of expensive cologne and something sharper that tastes a lot like adrenaline.

He taps the steering wheel with an easy confidence, a cocky grin tugging at his mouth.

As if he was born behind the wheel of a car like this.

“Don’t be nervous, Fossette. I’m a good driver,” Matteo says with a cocky smirk, sliding his designer shades onto his face like he has all the time in the world.

“I have a question,” I say, shifting in my seat to face him. “What is Fossette, and why do you keep calling me that?”

Matteo smiles, pulling his sunglasses down to the bridge of his nose until his hazel eyes meet mine. “Fossette means dimples, in Italian,” he says, his voice lower now, softer.

Oh.

I fix him with a glare, and he smirks back at me, leaning over to turn the music up.

“Relax, princess, I know these roads like the back of my hand. You’re safer with me than with any speed limit.

” The nickname makes me roll my eyes, but there’s no heat behind it.

I’m not convinced, but I suppose I don’t really have much of a choice but to trust him.

I let my head fall back against the seat, watching the villa shrink in the side mirror as we pull away. Ahead of us, Mum and Dad’s car leads the way down the winding Sicilian roads.

The sun blazes high above, casting everything in a blinding, golden glow. Olive trees blur into green smudges as we speed past, and the warm air blowing through the window smells of salt and summer.

Matteo hums along to the music, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. Every now and then, he sneaks a glance at me. “You sure, you’re okay?” he asks eventually, his voice softer than usual.

I nod, even though my chest feels tight. “Yeah, I’ve never really been apart from my sister,” I mumble. “Now we’re leaving, it all feels very real.”

Matteo doesn’t say much, just a tight nod, eyes locked on the road ahead, one hand steady on the wheel, the other hovering close to the gearshift. The steady hum of tyres on asphalt fills the car, but it does nothing to soothe the gnawing tension crawling under my skin.

We’re cruising along the highway, the Sicilian hills a blur of dusty green and sunlit gold. It should feel peaceful, safe, but my gut is telling me something’s off.

I glance ahead. My parents’ car is two lengths in front, steady in the middle lane. Everything looks normal, until I feel Matteo tense beside me. His hand shifts on the steering wheel, jaw locked tight, eyes flicking from the road to the rearview mirror and back again.

“Matteo?” My voice cracks with unease. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t blink. Just leans forward slightly in his seat, like he’s bracing for something.

The air around us shifts, thick and electric.

I twist in my seat and look behind us and that’s when I see it.

A black Alfa Romeo, low-slung and mean, weaving through traffic like a goddamn predator.

It cuts too close to a van, then darts behind us, riding Matteo’s bumper like it wants to climb into the boot.

My stomach free falls.

“Wait. Who the hell?—?”

“Head down,” Matteo bites out. “Now.”

The panic hits like a gut punch. My breathing stutters, short and rapid, my hands scrambling uselessly at the seatbelt as if I can protect myself from something I don’t even understand. What the fuck is going on?

I barely finish my thought when the car jolts forward with a thud. The Alfa Romeo has tapped us, on purpose .

“Oh my God,” I gasp, eyes wide, pulse hammering in my ears.

“Figlio di puttana!” Matteo spits, swerving hard. “Lo sapevo… bastardo infame.”

The black car accelerates again, but Matteo suddenly jerks the wheel and veers into the left lane, just in time. The black car swerves violently and clips the rear of the car with my parents in it and sends it spinning.

Everything around me slows.

Their car lurches sideways across two lanes, caught in the stream of fast-moving traffic.

A truck slams on its brakes...but not fast enough.

Tires screech against the asphalt. The force slams the car into the guardrail at full speed.

The impact is thunder, the noise deafening.

Shattering glass. Screaming metal. Their car crumples like foil against the guardrail with a crunch that echoes in my bones.

I don’t breathe.

I’m frozen.

Just staring. Like I'm trapped in some action movie.

No sound, no thought...just the image of their car, smoke curling from the hood and the high pitch ringing in my ears.

“M-mum...Dad.” I whisper and then my brain starts to function again, and I realise what just happened.

A scream tears from my throat before I even realise it.

Matteo curses sharply, pulls into the shoulder and slams the brakes, but it’s too late.

The world is already tilting, chaos swallowing everything.

Smoke, the crumpled wreck of my parents’ car mangled and motionless against the twisted barrier.

My seatbelt locks tight across my chest as we screech to a halt, the smell of burning rubber thick in the air. My limbs tremble as I fumble desperately with the buckle, my hands shaking, my heart a wild, stuttering drum in my ears.

“Mum! Dad!” I cry, throwing the door open and stumbling into the road, oblivious to the traffic, to Matteo shouting after me.

All I can see is them.

Trapped inside.

“Nooo!” I scream again, raw and broken. It feels like it rips through my entire body, like it tears something open inside me that I’ll never be able to put back together again as I stumble toward the wreckage.

But before I can reach it, arms clamp around my waist, hauling me backward.

“MUM!” I scream, my voice ripping the air.

“DADDY!” I thrash against the hold. Wild, desperate, kicking and clawing, anything to break free.

“Let me go!” I sob, the words splintering from somewhere deep inside me.

Matteo’s voice is harsh against my ear, strained with panic. “Jordyn, stop, stop! It's not safe!”

Not safe? They’re trapped. They need me.

The world blurs at the edges. Sound bends and distorts like I'm underwater. The only thing that matters is them. With a surge of frantic strength, I break free, my feet barely touching the ground as I bolt forward.

“Jordyn!” Matteo’s shout is distant, fading behind the roar in my ears as I skid to a stop at the side of the car. Glass is scattered across the road, blood painting the twisted metal a sickening red.

“Mum,” I whisper, my voice cracking into pieces.

I see her first. She’s crumpled against the back seat, head slumped at an unnatural angle, her once beautiful dress now soaked in blood.

And then...my Dad. He’s slumped in the passenger seat, his body eerily still, his head resting against the shattered window, blood trailing from a cut at his temple. His hand hangs limply against his thigh, lifeless. The driver is wedged between the door and the guardrail.

“No,” I gasp, the word burning my throat. I reach through the broken glass, desperate, my fingers brushing my mother’s blood-slicked cheek.

“Oh God... Mum, please. Please open your eyes. Please don’t die. I'm right here. Can you hear me? You're going to be okay. Both of you, you're going to be okay...”

I sob so hard I can’t breathe, my chest caving in on itself. “Please don’t leave me!”

And then Matteo is by my side again. Stronger this time, wrapping his arms around me, dragging me back as I scream and fight him, clawing at the air, desperate to stay.

But the wreckage slips further and further away, swallowed by smoke, the wail of sirens in the distance, and the deafening sound of my own heart shattering into a million pieces.

“No, please!” I wail, my voice shattering against the smoke-thickened air.

“We need to help them. Matteo, my parents are in there! Please...we need to get them out of there!”

I claw at him, desperate, helpless, but Matteo only tightens his arms around me, grounding me when my legs buckle and give out.

I collapse against him, sobbing into his chest. My bloodstained fingers curling into his shirt like I can anchor myself there.

..like if I hold on long enough, I can undo what’s happening.

“Someone help them, please!” I scream. “Why is no one doing anything?! We need to get them out!”

“They're coming, Jordyn,” Matteo says urgently, his voice rough in my ear. “Help is coming, I promise.”

But I can't hear him. All I can hear is the roar of my own heart splitting apart inside me.

“Oh God, I can’t lose them...” I whisper, the words dissolving into a broken sob against his chest. “Matteo, I can’t lose them...I can’t...I can’t.”

Matteo holds me tighter, tucking my head under his chin as sirens wail somewhere in the distance, still too far away...way too late.