Chapter Twenty-four
Vida
A s he walks away from me I try to stop my heart from beating out of my chest. My entire body trembles and I can’t understand why. Maybe it’s because I’m filled with rage? Or because of how much I believe his words, and almost even like it. That I’m his. I belong to him! That monster and all.
I lean against the cold wall of the alley on trembling legs as I try to stand steadily. I wrap my arms around myself, feeling the weight of Ciro’s words and the alcohol settling in me, the two mixing only makes my head spin and my body feel weak. My heartbeat drums in my ears, with no sign of stopping.
The alley is dark except for the dim light from the streetlights and lights from the club that barely reach me where I stand waiting for him. I’m mad and so tired of his bullshit. How could he leave me waiting alone in a place like this? I wonder as I look around, noticing just how dark and lonely the alley really is.
My head pounds even more, my frustration brewing inside of me. I hate how tired I feel, how this night has turned out, and most of all I hate that I’m still here waiting for him.
“He better not be chatting more with that doctor . . .” I mutter, massaging my temples. The thought alone makes me want to storm back in there and drag him out of there by the head, but my legs feel too heavy, and I just want to sit or lay down. I’d rather be doing anything that isn’t standing in a creepy dark alley by myself.
I look around one more time, scanning for any sign of him. Nothing. Enough is enough. I sigh heavily and push myself off the wall, my body swaying slightly as I stumble forward. I just need to find somewhere to sit down so I can rest for a minute. I’m not going to wait for him in the dark, dingey alley any longer.
As I take my first step into the light, the world suddenly turns pitch black. A thick cloth covers my mouth and nose forcefully, instantly cutting off my air supply. My eyes shoot open wide as I gasp and my heart races, threatening to break out of my chest. My mind races with panic and confusion, but there is no time to process what is happening.
A switch flicks in my head as fight mode kicks in. My arms shoot up, fighting against the strong grip of the hands that are pulling me backwards in the direction I’d just come from. I try to scream, but my attempts are muffled by the cloth still covering my mouth.
My fingers claw at the fabric, desperate to breathe, to escape. I twist my body and kick backward, aiming for anything I can hit. My foot connects with something solid, making a grunt of pain escape from the person behind me. I feel a glimmer of hope as the kick makes the person’s grip begin to loosen for a second.
That is all the opportunity I need and I take it. I rip the cloth from my face and suck in a sharp breath of cold air as I struggle to stay upright. My body is trembling, adrenaline flooding my system, pushing me to keep fighting. I can’t be taken, not like this, not when Ciro is probably just inside the club. He’ll worry if I disappear. He’ll tear the city apart looking for me, and I can’t let that happen. I have to fight. I have to fight my way out of this, for my sake . . . and . . . and for his.
“Get off of me!” I hiss, twisting out of the arms that try to grab me again. My fist flies forward, landing brutally on someone’s jaw.
“Fuck!” the person curses, trying to grab me again.
I throw another punch, a harder and more powerful one this time. I have my chance to run now that he’s wincing in pain. Just as I turn to run, another figure appears. I throw another punch, landing one on them too, and barely managing to escape that second person. A third appears, just as I make it to the end of the alley, this figure much larger than the first two. I try to fight again, but my body is still sluggish from the alcohol, making my reflexes too slow to do any damage to this guy. I still try to fight with every ounce of strength I have left, kicking and punching as they attempt to hold me down. My movements are wild and desperate, my mind screaming and begging me to keep going, to fight harder. I don’t want Ciro to come and not find me here. I wanted him to find me so he’d know I waited.
Just when I think I might finally break free, something sharp presses into my neck. I barely register the sting before a wave of numbness consumes me, my muscles turning into jelly despite my attempts to fight against it. My body betrays me as it grows heavy and my vision begins to blur.
“No . . . no . . . please,” I beg, my voice weak and barely a whisper as I struggle to stay conscious.
All I can do is watch as my arms fall to my sides and they grab me again, this time lifting my completely numb body off the ground like I weigh nothing at all. My mind races, desperately trying to hold onto something, anything. The fear that Ciro will never know what has happened to me breaks my heart, so much so that tears start to form behind my eyes.
“Ciro,” I mumble, my last attempt to call for him, to scream his name, but all I can manage is a faint, broken whisper before the world goes completely black.
Ciro
I step out of the club, angrier than when I’d gone in. Can’t Lucia take the hint? I’m not fucking interested in her, not anymore. She couldn’t have found a better time to talk shit than when I left my wife in the fucking cold? Jesus! I curse mentally, my sharp gaze scanning the alley where I’d told Vida to wait. The air is thick with the stench of cigarettes and alcohol, and the sound of music in the distance. My chest tightens when I don’t immediately see her, but I shake off the unease, telling myself she’s probably moved further into the alley, or maybe found a place to sit down. She was angry at me, I knew that. She must have defied me again just to frustrate me, it was a hobby of hers.
But as I walk deeper into the alley, still searching around for her, a cold wave of unease runs down my spine.
Something is wrong.
I call her name softly, keeping my voice low and calm. I need this to be her being disobedient, not anything else.
“Vida . . .” I call again, then wait but there’s still no reply.
My hand quickly goes to my coat pocket, my fingers brushing the cold metal of my hidden weapon, and my heart begins to pound harder. Where is she? Where is my fucking wife?
I quicken my pace, my eyes scanning every direction as I search the dark alley. I can feel my control slipping, and the knot of panic tightening in my chest. My mind races, but my expression remains still and unwavering. I can’t afford to lose control, not yet, not until I knew where she was.
Then I see it.
A glint catches my eye, just beneath the streetlight that dimly illuminates the alley. I move toward it quickly, kneeling down and picking it up. My heart skips a beat as I pick up the object and I realize what it is. It’s a silver ring, delicate and familiar, the engraving on the inside making my fears come up to the surface.
Vida’s name.
This is the damn ring Carmela mentioned she liked, the one Vida shares with her sister. The very same one that has me pissed every time she wears it because I wanted only my ring on her fingers.
I clench my fist around the ring, my knuckles white as a wave of cold fear, sorrow, and rage washes over me. Someone has her. I don’t know who, but someone has taken my wife. No one is allowed to take what is fucking mine!
I stand slowly, my body trembling with rage. I tuck the ring into my pocket, my heart pounding in my chest. For a brief moment, I close my eyes, inhaling deeply to steady myself. I have to stay calm and be smart. Emotions cloud judgment, I reminded myself.
“I’m coming, little chaos,” I mutter under my breath, my voice low, as the promise of the ruin to come seeps into every word. “I’ll burn them all.”
My mind sharpens with one focus; I will find them, I will hunt down anyone who dares to touch her, and they will pay with their fucking miserable lives.
Without wasting another second, I turn on my heel and walk back toward the club. I need Franchesco and Carmela. We need to find out who took my wife, and we will tear apart this city if that’s what it takes to find her. And when we do, there will be no mercy. It’s a Balleran promise, one that can never be broken.
I’m livid, uncontrolled, and absolutely losing my shit. But how could I not be? My fucking twin is the reason my freaking wife is missing!
“Why did you bring her to the club, Carmela? Why the fuck would you do that?!” I yell, anger coursing through every vein in my body like fire.
When was the last time I raised my voice at her? How long has it been? A while, I’m sure. The shock on her face as she turns to face me just proves that.
“What?” she asks, looking confused at my outburst.
“Why did you bring her to the club? What fucking game were you trying to play?” I continue, my chest heaving as I try to keep some kind of control.
We’ve barely entered the house, but the silent drive home had given me too much time to spiral.
“Game? Ciro, are you insane? I wasn’t the one who left her outside in the fucking cold, standing in some dark ass alley alone! You did that!” she yells back, shoving me, hard, as her finger jabs into my chest. Each word hits me like a bullet.
I clench my jaw, trying to swallow back the wave of emotions rising in my throat. I don’t need her reminding me of that moment, of Vida standing there, looking up at me with those fucking brown eyes, or the way her lips trembled in the cold while she vibrated with the anger she bore towards me . . .
“We don’t need this . . .”
“Don’t you dare blame this on me,” I snarl, cutting Franchesco off. “You’re the fucking reason she was there in the first place!”
It feels like my head is bursting open, my rage blinding me so much that all I can see is Carmela, who is completely unfazed by my anger.
“Fuck you, brother! If you weren’t such a shitty husband, maybe your wife wouldn’t want to be at a club trying to forget about you,” she blurts out, her words echoing around in my head, almost piercing something inside me.
But I don’t care. This isn’t about being a shitty or good husband, it’s about being a loyal husband. I don’t care if she hates her life with me, I hate mine with her. It isn’t about being good, is it? No, this is about loyalty. I took a vow, and I am damn well going to honor it, whether she likes it or not.
“Don’t you . . .” I pause, swallowing my words back down.
“Emotions cloud judgement. So why are you here yelling at me and playing the blame game?” she asks, her tone lower, almost mocking in a judgmental way.
“She is my wife and my duty!” I yell, making sure the walls, the house, hell, the entire fucking world knows it.
“Duty?” she laughs. “Did you forget that when you were at the club letting Lucia’s hands roam all over you?”
“I didn’t . . .” I stop. Why am I trying to explain myself?
“My daughter-in-law is missing and you two decide to act like fools?” Father’s voice interrupts us, making us turn to face him. What is he doing at home?
“Father, we . . .”
“Shut up,” he cuts Carmela off. He’s switched into his role, where nothing but the task at hand matters.
“You have a wife to find, so what will you do?” he asks, turning to me with his brown eyes burning into me, his words like a challenge in my ears. I straighten and settle into focus as his words sink in.
“Kill anyone who has laid a finger on her,” I reply, matching his energy, and watch something flicker in his gaze.
“Good,” he turns, heading back to his office.
I let out a breath. Emotions cloud judgment, I remind myself.
“What do you need us to do?” Carmela asks, facing me, her ready-to-go-to-war expression fixed on her face. It’s almost like our initial argument hadn’t happened. It’s irrelevant either way, we needed to blow off some steam to think and we did that. I’ll reserve the rest of my anger for the bastards who dared take my wife.
“What did you mention about the ring Vida had?” I ask, tasting her name on my tongue.
“The silver and gold one? It’s a pair, she has one and her sister has the other. They use them in case of emergencies. Why?” she asks, arching her brow.
“And her sister has the other half of the pair?” I ask as I run my thumb over the metal in my pocket, feeling the weight of it; feeling her.
“No. Vida has both of them. One on her neck and the other on her . . .”
“Finger,” I cut in, finishing the sentence for her.
“Yes, why?”
“Franchesco, track the other ring,” I command, giving him the ring I found. “My wife might have left us some trail.”
Once he has the ring, I turn and walk towards the stairs. I need to change. I smell like alcohol and that fucking doctor. I need to get her scent off me.
“I’ll get Cito and the men,” Carmela says behind me.
“Good! Let’s go get my wife,” I reply, eyes focused on the stairs, but my mind stuck on that fucking black dress she wore to the club!