Page 2 of Until You Break

ONE

EMILIO

I didn’t want to be afraid. Not tonight. Not when I’d memorized the route, the lines, the weight of the box in my hand. Not after standing in the mirror, cuffs straight, telling myself I could do this. That Papà would see I belonged. That art didn’t mean weakness.

This was just an errand. Nothing more. But my hands still shook. My breath snagged. And deep down, I knew I wasn’t ready, not for this world, not for the way it stripped people bare and called it loyalty.

It was supposed to be a simple drop. Quiet, routine, forgettable. Papà had looked at me for exactly three seconds before nodding toward the box and saying, “Deliver this. No mistakes.” He didn’t say please. Didn’t ask if I was ready. Just dismissed me like a servant.

I told him I could handle it. That I wanted the responsibility. For one heartbeat, he’d looked at me, not through me. I carried that moment heavier than the box itself.

The air changed as we pulled up. The street narrowed, warehouses crowding together, alleys slitting black between them. The silence pressed close, sharp as a blade.

“You been in this part of town before?” I asked Dino, the guard who came with me. I’d never seen him until tonight.

“Only once.”

I glanced at him, catching the faintest smirk.

“What are we doing this far out? This isn’t our territory.”

He shrugged. “Routes shift. Orders change.”

“You sure we’re in the right place?” I pushed. “Because this doesn’t feel like Valenti turf.”

Dino didn’t look at me. “This is the address they gave. That’s all I know.”

My chest tightened. The buildings here looked older, pressed too close together. Too many shadows, not enough light. A stretch of Palermo that felt scrubbed clean of witnesses, like the city had turned its back. The air smelled of wet iron and rain.

A car passed behind us, headlights cutting through the dark. Tires hissed over slick asphalt. I flinched, the box tilting in my hands until my heart jumped.

“You alright, Valenti?”

“Yes.” I swallowed hard. “Just... glad you’re here. This is my first errand since graduation. Maybe I’m better at paperwork or—”

I caught myself. Shut up, Emilio.

But nerves made me talk. Like silence itself was dangerous.

Dino chuckled. It sounded wrong, like someone lighting a match just to see me flinch.

My fingers tightened around the lacquered box.

Prove yourself. Make him proud.

Papà’s voice echoed in my head, smooth and cold. Loyalty doesn’t tremble. Loyalty doesn’t question. Warnings dressed as lessons. Tonight was supposed to change that.

The warehouse rose ahead, gray steel glowing under the floodlights.

“No,” I said, firmer this time, to Dino, to myself, to the fear crawling under my ribs. “This isn’t Valenti territory.”

Dino shrugged. Checked his phone. “This is the place.”

“What do we do now?”

“Now we wait.”

I straightened my spine. Fixed my cuffs. Tried to ignore the tightness in my gut.

In Paris, I painted. I memorized light, sun on water, graphite dust on my fingers until even bread tasted like paper. Paris hadn’t been safe, but it had been mine.

Now I was back in Palermo, and the streets were sketching me. Rough lines. No softness.

This was my father’s world, and I had to prove I belonged in it. Maybe then he’d stop looking through me like I was a mistake he couldn’t erase.

Even I wasn’t sure I believed it.

My phone buzzed.

Enzo: You good?

I stared at it a second. My thumb hovered.

Emilio: Yeah. Just a drop. I’ll be back soon.

I sent it, but the words felt thin, something I said for myself more than him. Enzo didn’t text unless he was worried. I should’ve said more. Or nothing.

Dino’s gaze shifted toward the dark beyond the lights. His smirk returned, sharp this time. “They’re coming for you,” he said quietly.

I frowned. “Who?”

A sound ripped through the air. Not thunder. Closer. Final.

Behind me, Dino moved, but he was too late.

Floodlights blinked out. Darkness poured in fast, thick and heavy.

The air changed again, colder now, tight with the sound of footsteps. Too many. Too steady.

“Who?” I called again, though I already knew.

This wasn’t chaos. It was precision.

So I ran.

I didn’t think. Didn’t look back. The box hit the ground and split open behind me. My shoes pounded the pavement, lungs burning, eyes searching for a light, an exit, anything.

Hands caught me.

“Dino!” I yelled. “Where are you? Help me!”

But he wasn’t there.

I slipped on oil, hit the ground hard. The breath slammed out of me. Pain shot up my spine like a fuse catching flame.

That second was all they needed.

They swarmed me. One grabbed my shoulder, rough and fast, another hit low, knocking out my balance.

I twisted, elbowing one in the ribs. Bit another’s hand until I tasted blood, metal and heat. He shouted and jerked back. A fist hit my side. I swung again, catching skin, maybe flesh.

They weren’t ready for someone who fought back.

My knuckles split, blood slicking my palms. Pain lit through me, but it meant I was still mine.

I wanted to leave a mark.

Not just bruises, but proof. Something Papà would have to see.

But I was outnumbered.

They pinned me. Slammed me down.

“Make it quick before he gets loose again,” someone said.

A gloved hand fisted my hoodie, yanking me back. My skull cracked against the ground. A punch caught my temple. My vision swam.

My knee was pinned. My arm twisted. The pain went white, then cold. I couldn’t breathe.

That’s when I saw him. Dino. My guard. Standing still. Unmarked. Watching.

“You’re with them?” I spat, blood on my teeth.

He looked at me, calm, unbothered. “This is the Valenti boy. Riccardo’s youngest. You got what you paid for. Now give me my money.”

The words hit harder than the fists.

I was a deal. A price tag.

Papà had warned me once that enemies go for the weakest link. I hadn’t realized he meant me.

I was going to die.

My thoughts scrambled for sense, who would do this? Old rivalries? New ones? Someone who wanted leverage? I didn’t know. And the not knowing burned worse than fear.

When they threw me into the van, I couldn’t fight anymore.

It was dark inside. Cold. Metal walls closing in, carrying the smell of blood and rubber.

Chains rattled. The sound crawled under my skin. Cuffs snapped around my wrists, too high, too tight. My shoulders screamed. My breath came ragged.

The van moved. Every turn shook the floor. Sweat glued my hair to my forehead. My body felt heavy, sinking into the dark.

I couldn’t see faces, just shapes, moving, breathing. Calm.

They’d done this before.

“Why me?” I asked, voice raw. “I don’t know anything. I’m not part of this. I don’t even know what was in the box.”

No answer.

“Please,” I whispered. “You’ve got the wrong person. I’m not important.”

A man crouched in front of me. Not rushed. Just present.

He tilted my face, studying it. Measured. Cold.

“Why me?” I asked again.

Still nothing. Just eyes, steady, unreadable.

“This is the one,” he said finally. His voice was even, practiced. “Keep the face clean. Mama said he needs to look presentable.”

His gloved fingers pressed under my chin, turning my head like he was checking merchandise. My pulse jumped against his touch, but his expression didn’t shift.

That’s when I knew this wasn’t a mistake.

I’d been chosen.

Even cuffed, I fought. I slammed my shoulder into him, kicked, thrashed until someone cursed and shoved me against the wall.

Then came the sting. A needle.

I jerked once, hard, but the drug was faster. Ice spread through me. The edges of the world blurred and folded.

My body went slack, eyes open.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. Once.

A sound too small for everything it meant.

The message would go unread. Maybe Enzo would see it later, wondering why I never replied.

My vision dimmed. Someone’s hand kept me upright, holding me steady long enough to watch me fall.

Before the dark took me, one thought stayed clear. Whoever ordered this wanted me alive, not dead.

Which meant something worse was waiting.

Someone they already whispered about.

Someone I hadn’t met yet…

but would.