Chapter Forty
Lorenzo
“Svetlana” by NEXTIME blasts through the basement speakers, the bass rattling the pipes overhead.
Lev’s choice. Obviously.
He’s singing at the top of his lungs about how some girl named Svetlana fucked him over, which, honestly, earns her my respect.
Luciano hangs from the ceiling, wrists chained above his head, his full body weight dragging on his shoulders. Blood stains his shirt and drips slowly onto the concrete beneath him. His head lolls forward, barely conscious.
Lev dances around him like we’re in a nightclub instead of a torture room, slicing shallow lines across Luciano’s chest in rhythm with the music, then spinning away dramatically.
“For fuck’s sake” I mutter under my breath.
He grabs a knife from the table and throws it toward Luciano’s legs, still singing loudly about how Svetlana is a whore and he’s not giving her his banana. The knife lands close enough to make Luciano flinch, but Lev just laughs and keeps moving.
I swear to God, never let Lev run anything important. Ever.
“What the fuck are you doing, Lev?” I growl.
He stops mid-dance and looks at me like I just ruined his birthday party. “Working?” He winks, then resumes his ridiculous performance.
I walk over to the speaker and turn the volume down. The song is on repeat.
Of course it is.
“Any new information from him?” I ask.
Lev blinks at me like I’ve spoken another language. “Oh.” He grins. “I thought you were doing the talking and I was just in charge of the, you know.” He gestures vaguely at Luciano. “Physical work.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. My head is pounding. I haven’t slept, haven’t eaten properly, and my temper is hanging by a thread.
“Can he talk?” I ask flatly.
Luciano’s head hangs forward, blood on his lips, eyes half-closed.
Lev studies him for a second, then casually kicks him in the face.
Luciano doesn’t react.
Lev shrugs. “Not right now. Maybe in an hour?”
I turn slowly toward him. “What the fuck have you done to him?”
Lev spreads his hands like I’m the unreasonable one. “Relax.”
“We still need information,” I snap. “And I’m not planning on killing him anytime soon.”
“Don’t worry, baby,” Lev says with a grin.
I glare at him. He knows I hate when he calls me that.
“Stop fucking around,” I hiss. “I need you focused. For once in your life.”
He clutches his chest like I’ve just shot him. “Anything for my baby,” he declares dramatically, then winks. “Just don’t tell Serena about our secret relationship. She gets territorial. I bruise easily.”
I roll my eyes so hard it hurts. “Lev.”
He opens his mouth to say something else, probably something even more stupid, but my phone starts ringing.
Serena.
Everything inside me goes tight.
I turn and walk out of the room before Lev can make another joke, already answering the call.
“Hi, love,” I say, my voice soft without thinking.
Fuck, I miss her. This week has been nothing but politics, meetings, power plays between Cosa Nostra and Camorra. Being Capo means everyone wants a piece of you. Everyone wants something.
All I want is to go home, hold Serena, bury my face in her neck. . . and yeah, fuck her until I forget my own name.
“Lorenzo!”
She’s crying.
My entire body locks.
“What’s wrong?” My voice doesn’t sound like mine anymore. My hand starts shaking. I’m already moving, already running. Fuck. I’m forty minutes away.
Too far.
“Please,” she sobs. The sound rips through my chest. “Come home, my mo—”
A thud.
A sharp sound.
Silence.
“Serena? Serena!” I shout, already in the car, engine roaring to life. I throw the phone on speaker and speed out, tires screaming.
“SERENA!” I yell into the phone.
Nothing.
I slam my fist against the steering wheel. “FUCK!”
Then I hear a voice in the background.
A woman. I know that voice. The recognition hits instantly, sending a sheet of ice through my veins.
My grip tightens around the phone as the realization settles, cold and merciless.
The call cuts abruptly, the line going dead before I can say a word.
For a second, the silence roars in my ears.
The last thing I hear is Serena crying, the sound raw and terrified, echoing in my head long after the connection is gone.
A slow, violent rage begins to coil in my chest. I am going to take my time killing that fucking bitch.
She fooled us all. I never trusted her, not fully. But I still let her stay near Serena. Near my kids.
Big mistake.
How many more mistakes am I going to make? How the fuck do I keep failing the one job that matters?
My phone rings again.
Andres.
“The house is under attack,” he says.
My grip tightens on the wheel until my knuckles ache. “I know. I’m on my way.”
Thirty minutes.
Might as well be another country.
“Are you alone?” he asks, and I hear the fear he’s trying to hide. “Backup is coming, but—” He exhales hard. “It was an ambush. They hit fast. We lost almost everyone.”
My vision blurs for a second.
Not from tears.
From rage.
“FUCK!” I roar, pressing the gas harder.
“I need to tell you—”
I hang up.
I call Serena again. No answer.
I try the cameras. Nothing. Black screens.
“What the fuck is happening?” I snarl to no one, driving like a man possessed, running every red light, horn blaring, engine screaming.
Ten minutes feel like ten hours.
When the mansion gates come into view, my stomach drops.
Bodies.
Outside.
I don’t even park properly. I jump out while the car is still rolling and run inside.
The smell hits first. Blood. Gunpowder. Death.
It hangs thick in the air, metallic and suffocating, clinging to the back of my throat.
Everyone is down. My men. My security. People I have known for years, men who stood beside me through wars and quiet nights alike.
Now they are nothing but still bodies scattered across the floor.
Dead. The realization settles like a blade sliding between my ribs.
Something inside me snaps clean in half.
“SERENA!” I scream, my voice echoing through the ruined house.
No answer.
My heart is slamming so hard it hurts. I can’t think straight. Every room feels like a nightmare I can’t wake up from.
Where the fuck is she? Where are my kids? The questions crash through my head, louder than the ringing in my ears. My gaze sweeps the room again and again, searching for something that is not there. And for the first time in years, I feel it. Not anger.
Fear.
“Sir, where do you want us?” Andres’ men flood into the house behind me.
“Spread out,” I order, my voice tight. “Check if anyone’s still alive. Check the cameras. I need to know where they went.”
“Yes, sir.”
They move fast, boots pounding over broken glass and blood.
My chest feels like it’s being crushed from the inside.
Then I see movement outside the window.
Milkshake.
He’s pacing, alert, scanning the yard. When he sees me, his ears shoot up. He barks once, sharp, urgent, then turns and runs, looking back to make sure I’m following.
I don’t hesitate.
I run after him, heart slamming against my ribs, every step heavier than the last.
And then I see it.
The playhouse.
The one Leo and I built for the kids with our own hands.
I throw the door open—
And hear crying.
Two tiny, terrified cries.
I rush inside.
Maddox and Celeste are in their cribs, faces red, eyes wide. Pancake is lying on the floor beside them like a guard, his head lifting weakly when he sees me.
The babies see me and their faces light up.
They smile.
That fucking smile breaks something inside me.
“Daddy’s here,” I whisper, my voice rough.
I pull out my phone and call Dante, telling him to get ready to receive the babies at his mansion. He starts talking, asking questions, but I hang up. I don’t have time. I can’t talk. I can barely breathe.
Then I hear it.
A soft whimper.
I look down.
Blood.
“Fuck.”
I drop beside Pancake. There’s a gunshot wound in his back leg. I check his gums, his breathing. He’s lost blood, but he’s fighting. There’s fabric tied around his paw.
Serena’s shirt.
Of course she took care of him.
She brought them here. Hid them. Protected them. Asked the dogs to guard them.
She was thinking. Even while running for her life.
I rest my forehead against Milkshake’s and then Pancake’s. Their tails still thump weakly against the floor, even covered in blood.
“Thank you,” I tell them, my voice breaking. “Thank you for protecting them. You’re my sons too.”
I kiss both of their heads.
“Drew!” I shout.
Andres’ head of security appears instantly. “Yes, sir.”
“Take my babies to Dante,” I order. “Now. Take the dogs to the vet first. Make sure they’re treated, then take them to Dante too.”
“Yes, sir.”
He starts barking orders into his radio immediately.
I check my phone.
A message from Andres.
Andres: They’re at the Rhodes Farm.
He sends the address. I punch it into the GPS with shaking hands. They want to be found. This is bait.
I don’t care.
My phone rings.
Andres.
“What?” I snap.
“Don’t fucking go there alone,” he says. He’s angry, but I hear the fear underneath. “Give me ten minutes. I’ll have everything ready. I have a plan.”
Ten minutes.
Ten fucking minutes while Serena is with them.
“Yeah,” I lie.
I hang up.
And head for the car.
Because in ten minutes, she could be gone.
Farm my ass.
Of course it’s in the middle of fucking nowhere. Of course it looks wrong. The mansion rises out of the land like something that should have stayed buried, massive, dark, gothic, decaying. The kind of place where time rots instead of passes.
A place built to hide things.
I pull up without bothering to shut the car door or lock it. My hands are steady, but my chest feels too tight, like it’s collapsing inward. I’m not thinking about leaving. I’m thinking about getting her out.
Inside, the air is heavy. Thick. The walls feel like they’re listening.
A man blocks my path.
“Tell the fucking bitch I’m here,” I say quietly.
He doesn’t argue. He texts. Ten seconds pass.
“Follow me.”