Chapter 14 Regina
Regina
“Stop looking at me like I’m about to shatter.”
Mauricio’s hands tighten on the steering wheel, jaw working as he navigates another hairpin turn on this endless mountain road. “I’m not—”
“You are.” I cross my arms, hyper-aware of how the motion presses against bruises I acquired climbing down that damned trellis. “You’ve been shooting me concerned glances every thirty seconds since we left the safe house. I’m fine.”
“You drugged two guards, scaled a three-story building, and fled your father’s compound with nothing but a stolen gun and pure desperation.
” His voice carries that rough edge I’m learning means he’s wrestling with emotions he doesn’t want to name.
“Forgive me for wondering if you might be experiencing some delayed shock.”
“Shock would require me to be surprised by Father’s brutality.” The bitterness leaks through despite my best efforts. “I’ve had twenty-eight years to get used to it.”
“Getting used to trauma doesn’t make you immune to it.” He glances at me again—that same concerned assessment that’s been grating on my nerves for the past hour. “Regina, what you did took incredible courage—”
“Or incredible stupidity.” I turn to stare out the window at pine trees blurring past. “Giordano gave me his car and gun. He helped me escape. When Father realizes that...” My throat tightens around words I don’t want to finish.
“He’ll punish him.” Mauricio’s statement is blunt, acknowledging what we both know. “Brutally. As an example to anyone else who might consider betraying him.”
The casual certainty in his voice makes my stomach turn. “I should have made him come with me.”
“He wouldn’t have.” The correction is gentle. “Men like Giordano—good men trapped in bad organizations—they understand sacrifice. He knew the cost and chose to pay it so you could be free.”
“That doesn’t make me feel better.”
“It’s not supposed to.” He reaches across the console, fingers finding mine with surprising tenderness. “It’s supposed to make you honor his choice by surviving. By using the freedom he bought you to actually be free.”
I lace my fingers through his, drawing strength from the contact. “How much longer until we reach this mysterious cabin?”
“Another forty minutes.” His thumb traces circles on my palm. “It’s remote—off the grid, stocked with supplies, defensible if Sabino’s people somehow track us. Simeone’s owned it for years through so many shell companies even I had trouble following the paper trail.”
“Sounds isolated.”
“That’s the point.” His smile is sharp. “No neighbors to witness anything. No surveillance cameras. No way for your father to find us without physically searching every property in a hundred-mile radius.”
The idea of isolation should comfort me. Instead, it makes my skin crawl with claustrophobia I’m trying not to acknowledge.
“Regina.” Mauricio’s voice pulls me from spiraling thoughts. “Talk to me. What’s going through your head right now?”
“I’m wondering if I just traded one cage for another.” The admission escapes before I can stop it. “Father’s compound or a remote cabin—either way, I’m trapped somewhere waiting for men to decide my fate.”
His grip on my hand tightens almost painfully. “That’s not—”
“Isn’t it?” I pull my hand away, needing the space to think. “You’re making decisions about where we go, what we do, how we execute this plan. I appreciate the protection, Mauricio, but I didn’t escape one controlling man just to let another—”
“Stop.” The single word cuts through my building rant. He pulls the car onto a narrow dirt road, drives another hundred yards, then parks with sharp precision. “Get out.”
“Excuse me?”
“Get. Out.” He’s already exiting the vehicle, moving around to my door with predatory grace. “We’re having this conversation face to face, not while I’m trying to navigate mountain roads.”
I climb out, immediately hit by pine-scented air and isolation so complete I can hear my own heartbeat. We’re surrounded by trees on all sides, the road barely visible behind us.
“You think I’m controlling you?” Mauricio’s voice carries an edge I haven’t heard before—something dangerous beneath the concern. “You think I’m making decisions for you instead of with you?”
“Aren’t you?” I meet his gaze directly, refusing to back down. “You decided we needed to run. You chose this location. You’re coordinating the press release with Simeone—”
“After you told me you wanted to burn your father’s empire to the ground.” His interruption is sharp. “After you showed up bleeding and desperate, saying you were ready to go to war. I’m executing the plan you demanded, Regina. Not making you do anything.”
“But you’re executing it.” The distinction feels important. “You and Simeone, making strategic calls while I just... what? Hide in a cabin and wait?”
Understanding flashes across his features. “You’re not angry about being controlled. You’re angry about feeling useless.”
The accuracy of his read steals my breath. “I’ve spent seven years gathering intelligence. Building cases against Father that could destroy him. Now that it’s actually happening, I’m relegated to passenger while you and Simeone do the actual work.”
“You want to be in the cabin helping coordinate the press release?” No mockery in his voice, just genuine question. “Want to be the one reaching out to journalists and rival families?”
“I want to feel like I’m part of this instead of just being protected from it.” My voice cracks slightly. “I want—”
“What?” He closes the distance between us, and suddenly we’re inches apart, tension crackling. “Tell me exactly what you want, Regina. Not what you think you should want. Not what sounds appropriately independent. What do you actually need?”
The question lands like a challenge. I meet his storm-gray eyes, searching for judgment and finding only intensity that makes my pulse quicken.
“I want to watch Father’s empire crumble.
” The honesty comes raw, unfiltered. “I want to see his face when he realizes everything he built is ashes. I want Lorenzo Di Noto to understand that threatening me was the worst mistake of his miserable life. And I want—” I stop, because saying it makes me vulnerable.
“Want what?” Mauricio’s hands find my waist, steadying me or claiming me.
“I want you to stop treating me like fragile cargo and start treating me like a real partner who happens to need protection occasionally.” My palms press against his chest. “I’m terrified and angry and probably making terrible decisions, but I’m still capable of being more than just the woman you’re keeping safe. ”
His expression transforms—respect bleeding through the concern. “You’re right.”
“I’m—what?”
“You’re right.” He repeats it firmly. “I’ve been so focused on keeping you alive that I forgot you need more than just survival. You need agency. Purpose. A role in your own liberation.”
The admission does something warm to my chest. “So what do we do about it?”
“We get to the cabin.” His thumb brushes across my cheekbone. “And then you help coordinate the information dump. You know your father’s operations better than anyone—you tell us which revelations will hurt most, which allies to contact first, how to maximize damage.”
“Really?” Hope flares despite my best efforts to contain it.
“Really.” His smile is genuine now. “Though I reserve the right to veto anything suicidally reckless.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” But I’m smiling too, tension finally easing.
“The fun is in both of us surviving long enough to enjoy your father’s destruction.” He leans down, breath warm against my lips. “Besides, I have plans for our future that require you being alive and free.”
“What kind of plans?” The question comes out breathier than intended.
“The kind where we have time to figure out what this is between us without bounty hunters breathing down our necks.” His mouth brushes mine—barely contact, just promise. “The kind where you get to choose what you want instead of just surviving what you’re given.”
I close the remaining distance, kissing him with desperate intensity that has nothing to do with strategy. His response is immediate—hands tightening on my waist, pulling me flush against him, swallowing my gasp with his mouth.
When we finally break apart, I’m breathing hard, pupils dilated, aware that we’re standing on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere having a moment that feels far too intimate for our circumstances.
“We should go.” But neither of us moves. “Before someone finds us standing here like teenagers.”
“Teenagers with twenty-five million in combined bounties on their heads.” His forehead rests against mine. “Very expensive teenagers.”
I laugh despite everything. “Is that your way of saying I’m valuable?”
“That’s my way of saying you’re worth fighting for.” The conviction in his voice makes my chest tight. “Now get back in the car before I do something stupid like forget we’re being hunted.”
The cabin, when we finally reach it, exceeds my expectations. It’s not some rustic shack—it’s a genuine fortress disguised as a mountain retreat. Stone walls, reinforced windows, multiple exit points, and expensive technology.
“Simeone doesn’t do anything halfway,” Mauricio observes, helping me out of the car. “Come on. Let’s get you settled before we start coordinating Armageddon.”
Inside is warm, stocked, ready for siege or extended stay. One of the laptops is already set up on a massive table, alongside equipment I don’t recognize but assume is for encrypted communications.
“This is...” I trail off, overwhelmed by the preparation.
“Safety.” Mauricio’s arms wrap around me from behind. “For however long we need it.”
I lean back against his chest, letting myself have this moment of comfort before the storm. Outside, Father’s mobilizing every resource to find me. Inside, I’m planning his destruction.
“Mauricio?” My voice is small, uncertain.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For letting me be a part of this. For—” My phone buzzes—the old burner Mauricio gave me for emergencies only.
The message is from a number I don’t recognize, but the video attachment makes my blood run cold.
I click it with trembling fingers.
Giordano. Tied to a chair in what looks like Father’s basement. His face is already swelling, blood running from a split lip, and Father stands behind him with that cold expression I know too well.
“This is what happens,” Father’s voice comes through tinny but clear, “when people betray me. When they help my property escape. When they forget who owns them.”
The first blow makes me flinch. The second makes me gasp. By the fifth, I’m shaking so badly Mauricio has to take the phone from my hands.
“Regina—”
“He’s killing him.” The words come out strangled. “Father’s killing Giordano because I escaped. Because he helped me. This is my fault.”
“This is Sabino’s fault.” Mauricio’s correction is firm, but I barely hear it over the sound of flesh hitting flesh, over Giordano’s pained grunt that he tries to muffle because even being beaten he refuses to give Father satisfaction.
The video ends with Father’s face filling the screen. “Come home, figlia mia. Before I have to get creative with everyone you’ve ever cared about.”
The screen goes black.
I’m shaking. Mauricio’s arms are around me, but I can’t feel them—can’t feel anything except crushing guilt and rage braided together.
“This is the cost,” I whisper. “This is what my freedom costs.”
“No.” Mauricio turns me to face him. “This is what your father’s cruelty costs. Don’t confuse the two.”
But as I stare at the blank screen, all I can see is Giordano’s battered face. All I can hear is the sound of my freedom being purchased with someone else’s blood.
And I know—with terrible certainty—that this is just the beginning.