Chapter 34 Francesco
FRANCESCO
The iron gates are still sliding open when I floor the gas and speed down the long stretch of the Romano estate driveway, gravel spitting beneath the wheels.
Smoke curls from the hood of my car. My front bumper is hanging by a thread after I crashed into a container while swerving to rush out of the junkyard.
Blood sticks to my face, chest, and hands, which tighten against the wheel.
The tires screech as I yank the wheel and slam on the brakes in front of the mansion.
The engine dies with a final hiss. I throw the door open and stumble out into the night air, gun in hand, blood pounding in my ears.
My legs ache. My chest heaves. I don’t remember half the drive here.
I just remember what the last bastard said as I beat him until his jaw gave out.
“You were too busy sulking and licking your wounds to notice,” he laughed, blood on his split lip. “They took her right after the Rite ended—from the house where she was waiting for their verdict. Right under your nose. She’s probably dead by now.”
They have her.
Those fuckers took her.
And I wasn’t there to save her.
My eyes are bloodshot, and every bone in me is lit with violence.
The doors are thrown open before I reach them. One of the butlers steps out, but his eyes go wide the moment he sees me.
“Sir—”
“Get out of my way.”
He stumbles back without another word.
The entrance hall falls silent when I storm in.
Maids freeze mid-step. One gasps when she sees me.
I see her eyes drop to the blood soaked across my chest and my arms, the weapon still in my hand.
She stumbles backward, hitting a table and sending a porcelain vase crashing to the floor.
The crash echoes throughout the space, but I barely hear it over the roar in my head.
“Who took her?” I growl, my voice hoarse and rough.
No one answers.
“Who the fuck came into the estate and took her?” I roar.
Still silence.
That’s when I lose it.
I fire once into the air. The sound cracks through the chandelier above, sending the crystals crashing to the floor. Some maids scream and duck. The butler shields himself from the glass shards that explode in the air.
“GUARDS!” I bellow, my voice echoing up the grand staircase.
Heavy boots thunder in from different wings in the house. Five men rush in, their guns half-drawn before they spot me.
They freeze when they see my face.
I march toward the first one—tall, broad, a scar over one eye. I grab him by the collar and slam him against the wall behind him so hard his spine might crack.
“You were on gate duty earlier tonight.”
“S-sir, yes—”
“How the fuck did they get past you?”
“I-I didn’t see anyone come through—”
“Then you’re blind or a traitor,” I hiss.
“I swear—”
My gun is already pressed to his throat. The other guards shift nervously, unsure if they’re supposed to intervene or let the mad prince tear one of them apart.
“Talk,” I snarl.
“She was in the courtyard,” he finally blurts. He looks like he wants to pee himself. “She was resting and receiving some fresh air. That was the last place I saw her. In the next minute, she was just gone.”
“Gone?” I snap. “Where were you when she was taken away? You were supposed to watch her.”
“E-Elio summoned me to do something for him,” he chokes out.
The red in my vision flares.
“Elio,” I hiss.
And then, as if he were summoned, he appears.
Elio steps into the hall, perfectly composed as always. His black shirt is unwrinkled, and there’s not a single drop of sweat or worry on his skin. His eyes land on me, then flick to the guards behind me. His nostrils flare faintly.
“That’s enough,” he says coldly. “Let him go.”
I shove the man against the wall one more time before letting him go. They all scramble away.
“You’re making a scene.”
“I’ll make a goddamn massacre if I have to,” I snarl, prowling toward him. “It’s your fault she’s gone.”
His eyebrows pinch in slight confusion. “I didn’t order for her to be taken away.”
“She’s gone because of you!”
“You need to calm down.”
“Calm down?” I shove him.
His back hits the wall, but he doesn’t flinch. Anger crosses his eyes. “Stop acting irrational over some girl.”
His head snaps back as I punch him in the nose.
Without waiting for him to recover, I grab the collar of his shirt roughly.
“It’s not my fault you’re a cold bastard who has never cared about anything enough to fight for it. Not friends. Not family.”
Blood trickles down his nostrils. He glares at me, his jaw clenching.
“You’re nothing but a loyal dog,” I spit. “You sit when they say sit. Kill when they say kill. You don’t ask questions. You don’t feel.”
“You’re letting emotion compromise your judgment.”
“You let them take a pregnant woman without doing anything to intervene—”
“I am not responsible for whatever happened to your lover!” he growls at me.
I stare at him for a long moment, resisting the urge to choke the life out of him.
Blowing out a tense breath, I release him with a hard shove. He grunts before straightening his shirt and smoothing the crease I made.
“You’re not thinking clearly,” he says. “Take a shower. Sleep. We’ll reconvene—”
“I’ll reconvene with your corpse if you don’t shut the fuck up,” I say, stalking past him.
I move fast, heat rolling off me in waves.
The rage burning in my veins is the only thing keeping me upright.
My head is pounding, knuckles throbbing, and still, my legs carry me like I know exactly where I’m going.
I need a next step. A hint. Something that could give me a clue to where exactly they took her.
Marco.
He knows something.
I burst into the lounge where he’s relaxed on the sofa, nursing a drink in one hand and scrolling through his phone in the other.
He doesn’t look surprised to see me.
“You,” I say, stalking toward him.
He glances at my blood-soaked body and raises an eyebrow. “Rough day?”
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
I yank the glass from his hand and smash it against the wall.
“Try again,” I growl.
Marco stands slowly, brushing off his shirt. “Stop acting like a madman. You’re not the only one who cares about her.”
“No, but you’re the one who stood there and watched while she walked across burning coals for this family, for you! And now she’s gone, and you’re here sipping Scotch like nothing happened.”
“I’m not sipping anything now,” he says dryly, glancing at the shattered glass cup. His tone becomes serious as he adds, “They won’t kill her.”
“You knew they would take her.”
“I had my guesses.”
I grab his collar, my rage spiking again. “Give me more than guesses.”
“The Society loves to make a show of everything. They take the traditions to a different level,” he starts in a calm tone. “If they have her, they’re not going to touch her before the Reckoning.”
“If they have her? So they might not?”
“She’s not dead,” he says matter-of-factly. “If she were, they would have made a public statement by now, bragging that they’ve taken the life of someone they believe deserves it.”
My fists shake, and my throat feels raw. I can’t say a word. A part of me feels slightly relieved at the chance that she’s still alive. The other part of me is still terrified.
I stare at Marco for a long moment. Then slowly, I let go.
There’s a beat of silence before he speaks again, quieter this time.
“Francesco… I know you think I stood by while they took her. But I’m doing what I can to save her. I care about her, and you know this. I’ve got your back.”
His eyes hold a certain look that settles in my heart. An understanding shifts the tense air. A rare truce passes silently between us, between brothers who’ve fought too many wars on opposite sides.
“We’ll get her back,” he says.
I nod once.
I know Marco is hiding something, but that is the least of my problems right now.
I need to get Lia back, but rescuing her from the captors isn’t enough for me.
The Society took her to send a message.
And now?
Now I’m going to answer with fire.
I’ll burn them to the ground.