Chapter 26 Giuliana
GIULIANA
The pain comes in waves.
At first, it was sharp and immediate—a burning, tearing sensation in my chest that made it impossible to breathe without screaming.
But hours—days?—later, it evolves into something deeper.
More insidious. A constant, throbbing ache that radiates outward from the wound, spreading through my ribs and into my shoulder, my back, my everything.
I try to focus on breathing. Just breathing. In and out. Shallow breaths because anything deeper makes the pain spike so intensely that black spots dance across my vision.
The warehouse ceiling swims above me, exposed beams crisscrossing against concrete that’s water-stained and crumbling.
I’m lying on something hard, I think? A cot, maybe, with a thin mattress that does nothing to cushion the cold seeping up from the floor.
My wrists are zip-tied to the metal frame, tight enough that my fingers are going numb.
How long have I been here?
I try to piece together the fragments. The fake doctors wheeling me away from Luca in the emergency room. The van. The rough hands loading me inside. Romano’s face appearing above me, that cold smile as he pressed something over my mouth and nose…
Then darkness.
When I woke up, I was here. In this warehouse that smells awful.
I think we’re by the water because I can hear the lapping nearby.
A doctor, if you can call him that, has already stitched the wound.
I remember screaming, the way consciousness kept slipping away and coming back in jagged pieces.
The sting of the needle pulling thread through torn flesh.
The detachment in the man’s eyes as he worked.
“Try not to move too much,” he’d said in accented English. Eastern European, maybe Russian. “The bullet went through. You’re lucky that no major organs hit. But you’ve lost a lot of blood.”
Lucky. What a fucking joke.
He’d bandaged me, given me something for the pain that barely touched the edges of it, and then disappeared. That was…wait, how long ago was it? Hours? Weeks? The light filtering through the grimy windows has changed, so maybe it’s the next day. Or the day after that. Or longer than that.
I don’t know anymore.
The door opens with a groan of rusted hinges, and my entire body tenses despite the way it makes the pain flare.
Salvatore Romano walks in like he owns the place. Which he probably does.
He’s still dressed impeccably. A different suit than before, charcoal gray with a burgundy tie. He moves with the confidence of a man who’s never faced real consequences for anything he’s done.
“Giuliana,” he says my name with false warmth. “How are we feeling today?”
I don’t answer without my voice coming out weak and trembling, and I won’t give him that satisfaction.
He moves closer, pulling over a metal folding chair that scrapes against the concrete floor with a sound that makes me shiver. He settles into it with the ease of someone visiting a friend, not someone who shot me and is keeping me prisoner.
“The doctor says you’re healing well,” he continues, like we’re discussing the weather as he crosses one leg over the other. “The wound is clean. No infection yet. With proper care, you should survive this.” He pauses, his cold blue eyes studying my face. “For now.”
The “for now” hangs in the air between us.
“Why?” I ask, my voice hoarse from all the screaming. “Why are you doing this?”
Romano’s smile widens. “Because, my dear, you’re the perfect bait.
The one thing that will make Luca Marchetti walk willingly into a trap.
” He leans forward, uncrosses his legs and places his elbows on his knees.
“Do you know what it’s like, watching someone build an empire that threatens yours?
Knowing that if you don’t act, they’ll eventually consume everything you’ve worked for? ”
I close my eyes, trying to block him out, but his voice continues.
“Marco was supposed to be easy to handle. The brains of the operation, yes, but also the conscience. The one who believed in honor and loyalty and all those quaint notions that get people killed in our world.” He laughs, and the sound makes my skin crawl.
“But Luca—Luca was the real threat. The weapon. The one who’d burn down entire city blocks for revenge. ”
My eyes open again, fixing on his face. “So you tried to kill him,” I say flatly.
“I tried to eliminate a problem before it became unmanageable.” Romano shrugs, like ordering someone’s murder is just good business sense.
“Your father was supposed to provide intelligence about when Luca would be at that shipment meeting. But Antonio fucked it up.” His expression hardens.
“Gave me the schedule when Luca wasn’t there. When only Marco showed up.”
“My father was forced,” I say through gritted teeth, even though defending him feels hollow now. “You threatened him. Beat him. Used his weakness against him.”
“Of course I did.” Romano sounds almost amused.
“That’s what weak people are for, Giuliana.
They’re tools. Leverage. Your father’s gambling addiction made him perfect.
Desperate enough to believe my lies about just needing information to ‘catch a criminal,’ stupid enough not to ask too many questions. ”
Rage burns through the pain, hot and sharp. “You destroyed his life,” I snarl. “You used him and then—”
“I gave him exactly what he deserved,” Romano interrupts coldly.
“He made his choices, just like you made yours. Keeping my identity secret for three years? Very smart. Self-preservation at its finest.” His smile returns.
“But also very stupid, because now you’re here, and that secret doesn’t help you anymore. ”
The zip ties cut into my wrists as I unconsciously try to pull against them. The movement sends fresh agony through my chest, and I have to bite back a scream.
Romano notices. Of course he notices.
“Does it hurt?” he asks with false sympathy.
“The gunshot wound? I imagine it’s quite painful, even with the medication.
” He leans forward more and claps a hand on my shoulder, causing pain to radiate through me.
I clamp my lips together, but a strangled cry comes out of them.
“But don’t worry—the doctor will be back to check on you soon.
I need you alive and relatively healthy for when your husband arrives. ”
“Luca won’t come,” I lie, gasping through the pain, even though we both know it’s not true. “He hates me now. He knows I lied to him about you. He’ll—”
“He’ll tear Chicago apart looking for you.
” Romano stands, moving to the window to look out at whatever view this warehouse offers.
“In fact, he’s already started. My men are reporting quite the rampage.
Buildings burned, soldiers tortured, operations destroyed.
” He turns back to me, genuine satisfaction in his expression.
“He’s doing exactly what I expected. Exhausting himself, making enemies, following the trail I’ve been leaving. ”
My heart sinks. “You’ve been leading him here.”
“Of course.” Romano’s smile is positively gloating. “It’s all carefully orchestrated to guide him toward this warehouse. The same place his beloved Marco died. Full circle, don’t you think?”
The casual cruelty of it steals my breath. This entire thing has been a game to him. My kidnapping, Luca’s desperate search, the trail of bodies and destruction—all of it done to lead to this moment.
“When he gets here,” Romano continues, moving back toward the door, “I’m going to make him watch while you die.
Just like he watched the city burn while searching for you.
” His hand rests on the doorknob. “And then, when he’s completely broken and there’s nothing left of the man he was, then I’ll kill him too. ”
“You’re a monster,” I whisper, horrified. How could I ever have called Luca a monster when a true one stands in front of me?
Romano rolls his eyes. “I’m a businessman,” he corrects. “Eliminating competition is just good sense. The fact that I get to destroy Luca Marchetti in the process?” He shrugs. “That’s just a bonus.”
The door closes behind him, the sound of a lock engaging echoing through the empty space.
I’m alone again.
The pain throbs in time with my heartbeat, a constant reminder that I’m on borrowed time, existing in this limbo between life and death while Romano waits for Luca to walk into his trap.
I have to get out of here.
The thought suddenly hits me. I can’t just lie here waiting to be used as bait. I can’t let Romano use me to destroy Luca, no matter what’s broken between us.
And—god—there’s another reason now. One that makes survival even more critical than it was before.
The baby.
My hand wants to drift to my stomach, to the place where a tiny life is growing despite everything. But the zip ties keep my wrists bound to the cot, so I can only think about it. About them. The child Luca doesn’t know exists. The innocent life that will die with me if I don’t find a way out.
I’ve survived too much to die here. I’ve learned too much about strength and resilience and refusing to be broken. The old Giuliana—the one who walked into that warehouse weeks ago to find her father—would have given up by now and accepted her fate and waited for rescue or death.
But I’m not her anymore.
Luca’s world has changed me. Not just by making me harder or more cynical, but by teaching me that survival sometimes requires fighting with everything I have.
That being soft doesn’t mean being weak.
That choosing to live—really live—is itself an act of rebellion against people who want to break me.
I test the zip ties again, ignoring the way the movement makes pain shoot through my chest. They’re tight, cutting into my skin, but not impossibly so. If I can work them—if I can find something sharp enough to cut through the plastic—
Come on.