Chapter 15
ELENA
W e sat in silence for too long, listening to Alfeo mutter to himself up front. My hands were hurting from applying pressure for who knows how long, but I wasn't willing to stop. After what felt like over an hour, Alfeo turned on the music, loud enough to hide our voices if we kept our tone low.
"I'm quitting my job if I survive this," Ivy muttered, her tone half-joke, half-prayer. Her usual bravado felt hollow now, a paper shield against bullets. The tremble in her voice betrayed how terrified she really was. At least she'd lost the glassy, defeated look in her eyes.
Jackson scoffed and lolled his head back to look at the ceiling of the van.
I stared at the blood that had stained my hands and dried on his leg, my stomach churning with guilt. At least the bleeding had stopped.
"I didn't sign up for any of this," I whispered, not sure if I was talking to him or myself. My mother was dying in a hospital bed, and here I was, about to beat her to the grave because I'd been too stubborn, too desperate to let go of my father's ghost.
He didn't flinch. Just looked at me with those dark eyes that had seen too much.
"Where do you think he's taking us?" Ivy asked, her voice nearly muffled by the hard rock playing over the speakers.
I shook my head. "Somewhere isolated. Somewhere he can..." I couldn't finish the sentence. Didn't need to.
Jackson shifted, wincing. "He may want information first," he said grimly. "About what I know. About the Donatis."
The thought made my stomach turn. Torture.
That's what he was implying. I'd seen enough movies to know what happened to people in vans like this, taken to abandoned warehouses or remote locations.
But movies didn't prepare you for the reality—the metallic smell of blood on your hands, the way fear made your skin feel too tight, the desperate calculations your mind made about survival.
Or, in Ivy's case, how you just accepted it, going numb.
At least she'd broken out of that shock or stupor, or whatever the hell it had been.
And yet Jackson was sitting there, looking like this was just another damn day for him, bleeding and headed for his own execution alongside us.
Like he'd endured it all before, and I didn't know how to feel about that.
The van hit a pothole, and his eyes closed as he let out a frustrated groan. Seeing him in nothing but his briefs and wounded, blood dried all over him…
I instinctively moved my body closer, knowing the blood loss would be making him cold. Sure enough, my arm brushed his, and the coolness made me swallow uneasily.
"You need a hospital," I whispered.
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Not likely to happen anytime soon."
"I'm sorry," I said again, the words inadequate but all I had to offer. "This is my fault."
His eyes, dark and intense despite the pain, fixed on mine. "Why would you say that?"
I swallowed hard. "You know why. I came here to get help for my mother, and hopefully find out the truth about my dad. Ivy came along, and now…"
"Alfeo doing this is not your fault. His beef is with me and the family I work for. You just happened to be caught in that." He held my gaze, unfaltering, and I sucked my lower lip in between my teeth.
"I—" I began, but the van suddenly slowed, cutting me off.
We all tensed as the vehicle turned, gravel crunching beneath the tires. We were slowing down, probably reaching our final destination.
My heart rate doubled, fear flooding my system with adrenaline.
"Listen to me," Jackson said urgently, his voice low.
"Whatever happens, follow my lead. Don't antagonize him.
Don't push him. Don't try to be brave. Just stay alive.
He just killed his own blood. That makes him unpredictable.
" His voice was far too calm and level for my liking, but I was also grateful.
We needed someone who could hold it together.
My stomach knotted with dread. Ivy snorted.
"We know he's dangerous. What's more dangerous than a mafia man?" she muttered.
Jackson's voice dropped, quiet and final.
"One with nothing left to lose."
Silence. Thick and suffocating.
Even Ivy didn't have a comeback for that. I could hear my own heartbeat, too fast, too loud in my ears. My mother would never know what happened to me.
"Are you worried about what he's going to do?" I asked, hating how my voice shook.
His eyes held mine for a long moment. "I've been in worse situations."
Somehow, I believed him. There was something in his steady gaze that spoke of experiences I couldn't imagine, horrors he'd survived. It should have terrified me, this reminder of who he really was—a man who lived in a world of violence and death. Instead, it gave me a strange, desperate hope.
The van stopped. The engine shut off. In the sudden silence, I could hear Ivy's rapid breathing, Jackson's controlled, measured inhales, and my own thundering heartbeat.
"Whatever happens," Jackson whispered, "remember that we're together."
The driver's door opened and slammed shut. Footsteps crunched around to the back of the van as my heart hammered wildly.
"I don't know how comforting that is," I whispered back.
Jackson's eyes never left mine. "I'll do my best to keep you both safe," he said simply.
I took only a small amount of comfort from his words, knowing that it wasn't a promise. He couldn't guarantee our safety. Not against a loaded gun.
I gasped as a bang rattled the outside of the van, and Ivy huddled closer. Alfeo's furious muttering was getting louder outside.
We could hear him pacing, and then his footsteps receded.
"Where's he going?" Ivy hissed, but neither of us answered.
We were parked somewhere quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that swallowed screams.
I glanced at Jackson, then Ivy.
"What do we do now?" I hated how small I sounded, how helpless.
Jackson didn't answer right away. He stared at the metal wall like it might give him a plan.
His hands were still bound behind him. He couldn't see anything from where he was wedged. Blood had smeared all over his leg and dribbled down to pool on the floor. I wondered how much he'd already lost.
I shifted, wrists aching, but my hands were in front. Which gave me more options.
"I could untie you," I offered. "Just enough so it still looks like you're restrained if he comes back." Hope flickered in my chest. It was small, fragile, but it was there.
Hope was all we had left now.
Jackson's eyes dropped tom ine, and he gave a small nod. "Do it. But be fast. If Alfeo opens it and sees anything off, he'll shoot first."
I shifted him forward so I could reach his hands, trying not to move his leg too much.
My fingers trembled as I worked the knot, sweat making my grip slippery. It mingled with the blood, making a mess of my hands. I wiped them on my shirt to dry away the blend of sweat and blood before struggling again.
Damn that kid for knowing how to tie us up well. He couldn't have left them a little easy for us?
I wondered if the kid had military training too, or if this was just standard procedure for mafia kidnappings. Did all mafia children get taught how to tie knots?
Ivy met my eyes over Jackson's shoulder, and for once, she didn't say anything snarky. Just nodded. The weight of what might happen… all the things we'd never said, all the years of friendship, they were compressed into a single look.
We were family, and we were in this together.
I glanced down, letting out a soft breath as I finally got the knots undone and loosened his bindings.
Jackson didn't move his hands, keeping them positioned exactly as they had been. Only the slight relaxation in his shoulders told me he felt the difference.
Ivy let out a soft breath. I could feel her fear matching my own. At least she seemed focused, her eyes alert, not glassy. I needed her to be here with me, not checked out. It was not something I'd have expected of her, and I'm glad she'd bounced back.
"He doesn't need us alive anymore," Jackson said as he tested the loose bindings. "If he decides we're a liability..." He didn't finish the thought. He didn't need to. The image of the dead Malatesta man flashed in my mind, the way Alfeo had pulled the trigger so quickly.
Ivy's voice was sharp, cutting through my spiral of panic as I sat back.
"Then we run." She met my eyes, and I saw the same determination I'd known since we were kids—the same fight that had gotten her through her parents' neglect, through every hardship. It had reignited, burning away whatever shock or darkness had claimed her momentarily.
Jackson looked at both of us, and something shifted in his face. Resolve, maybe. Or resignation.
"Elena, undo Ivy's restraints too. All the way.
But keep them loose. If he comes back, you'll need to fake it.
" His training was showing through, the man who'd been special ops.
Either that, or it was just who he truly was.
A man who looked at it from all angles, came up with plans and contemplated all scenarios.
Maybe it was why he'd joined the service.
I could only hope I'd get a chance to ask him more, find out just who he'd been.
I shifted, focusing on Ivy's bindings as she turned her body to give me easier access.
Be quick, you got this.
"If I see a shot, I'll take it. I'll distract him. You two run." Jackson's voice was low, steady. There was no hesitation in his tone, no doubt. Just certainty.
My heart stuttered. I looked at him, really looked.
"You could get hurt. Or worse." The thought of leaving him behind made something in my chest twist painfully.
How had this man I'd barely known for a week become someone I couldn't bear to lose?
Was it because I knew he was our best chance at survival?
Or was it because I'd started to feel things I shouldn't have, that I'd let him in?
He shrugged, like it was nothing. Like dying was just another mundane task.
Like he wasn't afraid to go out for a cause. That was what it really was.
"I've survived worse." But the shadows in his eyes told a different story. I thought of the scars on his back, wondered what nightmares kept him up at night.
Neither of us believed him. Not really.
The way Ivy looked at him over her shoulder said it too.
My hands were stained with his blood, and I couldn't shake the feeling that there would be more before this was over.
"Will the Donatis come for you?" Ivy asked as I cursed inwardly at the difficulty of the knots in her binding.
Jackson's jaw tightened, a muscle jumping beneath his skin.
He glanced at me. "Depends. The kid may tell the Donatis the truth to keep the alliance strong.
Roman might get uneasy when I don't pick up my phone, or if that neighbor of yours called the police.
" He shrugged slightly. "There's a lot of variables at play here.
But we've got no phones. No trackers. No way to be found.
" The resignation in his voice chilled me.
This was a man who'd faced death before and recognized its approach.
"So they'll look for you," Ivy said, hope threading through her voice.
"Eventually," Jackson confirmed. "But they won't know where to start."
Unless the neighbor called the police. Unless someone saw the van. Unless, unless, unless. Too many variables, too many things that had to go exactly right for us to survive this.
The truth settled like a weight in my chest, crushing the last of my hope.
We were on our own. My mother would die without me there. And it was all because I'd been too stubborn to let the past stay buried. Too desperate to save the one person I needed to save and chase after a ghost.
I worked at Ivy's restraints, my fingers numb and clumsy. The rope was tight, cutting into her wrists. I could see angry red marks where she'd struggled against them.
"Almost got it," I whispered, more to keep myself focused than to reassure her.
The final knot gave way, and Ivy flexed her hands, wincing as blood rushed back into her fingers. She kept her wrists close together, maintaining the illusion of being bound.
"How bad is the leg?" I asked quietly as I glanced over it.
"It's just a graze."
"Yeah, and I'm a Sunday teacher," Ivy quipped. "Lies got us into this mess, let's agree to not lie, especially if these are our final moments."
"I'm good with that," I murmured, a shiver rippling through me at her blunt words. I glanced up at Jackson, and his eyes met mine.
"I've had worse."
"That's not an answer." I shook my head while Ivy sighed heavily.
"You really like to say it could be worse, don't ya?" Ivy muttered. "Bet you'd be fantastic to sit beside in a crashing plane."
"It's a through-and-through. Missed the artery or I'd be dead already." His clinical assessment made me frown.
Outside, I could hear Alfeo's muffled voice.
"Is he on the phone?" Ivy asked softly. "I thought he threw it out the window when we started driving."
"He probably did. Can't be tracked that way," Jackson agreed. "He's likely trying to talk himself through all of this. Figure out his options."
"Great, just what we need, him having a mental breakdown with a gun," I whispered. "What should we do now?"
"Now we wait," he said. "And when the moment comes, we move fast."
Ivy shifted closer to me. "If we get separated?—"
"We won't," I cut her off, unable to bear the thought. Of us running for our lives as Alfeo chased us, or worse. If one of us…
"Elena." Ivy's voice was firm, the way it got when she was about to tell me something I didn't want to hear. "If we get separated, meet at your mom's hospital. In her room."
I swallowed hard and nodded. The mention of my mother sent a fresh wave of guilt crashing over me. What had I been thinking, playing detective against the Donati family? I'd dragged my best friend into this mess, gotten Jackson shot, and for what? For money?
For my mom.
"I don't know how to fix this, any of this," I whispered, the words inadequate against the magnitude of what I'd done.
Jackson's eyes found mine in the dim light of the van. "Save it for when we're out of here. You haven't done anything wrong. We'll figure all of this out."
"If we get out of here," I corrected.
His jaw tightened. "When. You two will be okay, no-one's dying on my watch."
The certainty in his voice steadied me. This man had survived war zones, had clearly been through hell. If anyone could get us through this, it was him.
I had to find hope where I could.
I just hoped he didn't plan to sacrifice himself.
The van door suddenly swung open, the interior light blinding me for a moment. My heart leaped into my throat as a silhouette stood there. It took me a moment to adjust to the light.
Alfeo stood there, his expression unreadable, only worrying me more. I let my gaze drop, my heart stuttering as I saw it. The gun was still in his hand, ready.
"Change of plans," he said, his voice flat.
Fuck.