Chapter 16 #2
I exhale slowly, the air leaving my lungs until there’s a dull ache pulling tight in my chest. I welcome it. Pain is grounding. It keeps me from doing something rash before I have all the pieces in front of me.
“I’m assuming you’ve already looked through the regular channels to contact him?” I ask.
“Yes,” Bianchi replies without hesitation. “According to his housemaid, he’s been gone for close to two weeks. No one has seen or heard from him since.”
Two weeks.
That gnaws at me far more than I want it to.
It’s one thing to ignore me. Dangerous, but survivable, if he’s able to talk his way out of this mess. It’s another thing entirely to vanish so thoroughly that even the people who frequent your daily life have nothing to offer in terms of your whereabouts.
Enzo doesn’t do strange disappearances. As far as I’m aware, he isn’t tangled up with anyone romantically.
He has no lover to run to and no children to hide behind.
There is no reason to quietly uproot his life unless he’s terrified of the consequences of what he’s done or he’s very carefully planned this.
Neither option is comforting.
“I know it’s not what you want to hear,” Bianchi says after another long stretch of silence from me.
He’s right. It isn’t. But I also know better than to mistake honesty for incompetence. Bianchi, Romano, and Sarto don’t miss things lightly. If they haven’t found a trail yet, it’s because someone went to considerable lengths to erase it or because Enzo himself has a head start.
Either way, we’re operating blindly.
I despise blind spots.
“Are all three of you home?” I ask.
“Romano is. Sarto and I are still out in the field.”
I nod, more to myself than anyone else, staring down the length of the hallway as if answers might materialize out of the shadows. “When all three of you get here, meet me in my study. We’ll discuss next steps and figure out where we go from here.”
“Will do.”
I end the call without another word and lower the phone slowly, letting my arm hang at my side as the silence closes back in around me. For a moment, I just stand there and stare are nothing as my thoughts spiral.
Luca’s face flashes through my mind unbidden.
The memory of him is instant and unwelcome—his small body crushed against one of the Bellanti enforcers as the wind from the open window whipped at his hair.
The sound of his voice as he cried for Elena, begging her not to let them take him as his too small hands reached for her, physically pains me.
Afterward, when both Bellanti enforcers lay dead on the floor at their feet, I remember how easily he’d fit against my chest. The way he clung to me, the way his breathing slowly steadied once he realized he was safe. That he was still here. That she was still here…
It crushes me.
The thought of anyone outside this estate knowing he’s mine twists something vicious in my gut.
It’s a problem. A dangerous one.
Names carry power in this world. Bloodlines even more so. The moment Luca stopped being anonymous and went from being just Elena’s son and became mine, he turned into a target my enemies could justify hunting freely.
I look back toward the bedroom door just as it slowly parts from the jamb.
Elena stands there, half-hidden by the frame, blinking sleep from her eyes as they find mine. For a second she looks disoriented, caught between worlds before awareness sharpens her gaze. She pulls the door open the rest of the way.
She’s wearing the same nightgown she always wears to bed, one I rarely see because of the distance I’ve forced between us when things became complicated. Her hair is a mess, dark waves falling over her shoulders while sleep clings to her lashes. Even like this, she looks devastatingly beautiful.
It makes what I’m about to say feel even worse.
“What happened?” she asks.
My hand tightens around the phone.
For a brief moment, I consider lying.
The instinct is immediate, nearly reflexive. I could tell her it’s business, nothing she needs to worry about. I could carry this alone the way I always do, keeping the danger contained instead of putting it on her shoulders where it doesn’t belong.
But this isn’t like before. This time, it isn’t about shutting her out because I want to punish her. It’s about protecting her from the fear that will haunt her the second I open my mouth. From the truth that our son’s life is in danger.
Still… she deserves to know.
Especially when it concerns Luca.
The thought of another night like the Bellanti attack turns my stomach. I would never forgive myself for keeping her in the dark if something happened again. My tongue swipes against the back of my teeth as I choose my words carefully.
“There has…” I start, then stop, trying again. “There has been some concerning intel that’s come in.”
Her hand tightens visibly around the door handle.
“About?” she asks.
God, I hate this.
“About Luca.”
Her eyes widen instantly, panic flashing bright and unrestrained.
Then she’s moving.
Before I can stop her, she darts past me, bare feet slapping softly against the floor as she runs down the hallway toward his bedroom, maternal terror overriding any sense of reason to allow me to finish.
“Shit,” I mutter, already following.
I catch up to her just before she can reach the door, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her back before she can swing it open and wake him. “Elena, wait.”
“Let go of me,” she hisses.
She elbows backward, aiming for my chest. It nearly connects with my sternum, only missing because I twist away at the last second, redirecting her momentum.
She struggles against me, frantic while trying to break free.
I use the awkward angle to my advantage, turning her and pinning her gently but firmly back against the wall.
I don’t hurt her.
I never could.
But I don’t let go of her, either.
“He’s okay,” I say quickly. “He’s safe.”
She’s breathing hard now, her eyes glassy and wild as they search my face.
“What intel?” she demands.
I hesitate. My lips press into a thin line as the weight of the words settles heavily in my throat.
“What intel, Dante?” she snaps.
There’s no more room to soften what’s about to come. No way to dress this up as anything but the grim reality we might soon face.
My lips part slowly. “There has been a bounty placed on his head—”
Her knees buckle beneath her before I finish, her body giving out all at once as if something vital has been cut loose inside her. She slips through my grip and sinks to the floor, folding in on herself as broken sobs tear from her chest. They rack her frame, raw and unrestrained.
I drop down with her immediately, crouching in front of her. My hands hover uselessly for half a second, caught between wanting to pull her against me and knowing that touching her might only make things worse.
I settle them on her shoulders instead. “Elena, listen to me.”
She doesn’t. She folds in on herself, covering her face with her hands as if she can block the world out if she tries hard enough. Her shoulders shake violently, breath hitching in sharp, broken gasps.
“No. No, no, no. No. I knew it. I knew this would happen if you found us.”
The words hit harder than any accusation ever has. My heart lurches violently, a painful, involuntary reaction I can’t control. “Elena…”
“I knew he would be caught up in this,” she continues, completely ignoring me.
“Why do you think I kept him away from you? Why do you think I never told you about him?” Her fingers part just long enough for me to see her tear-streaked face before she covers it again.
“I knew you wouldn’t be able to protect him. And now look what’s happened.”
Each word lands like a blade struck straight through my heart. It isn’t because what she says is particularly cruel but because her words are honest. Because this, this exact moment, is the one nightmare she’s been running from.
“God, I should’ve known better. I let myself believe—” She chokes on the rest, shaking her head violently.
I tighten my grip on her shoulders, just enough to make her stop rambling. “Elena, stop. Look at me.”
She doesn’t.
She can’t.
Her breathing borders on hyperventilating, fear swallowing logic whole. Her panic echoes off the walls in a way that makes a savage protectiveness stir in my chest.
I move closer, lowering myself fully in front of her until I’m on her level, until there’s nowhere for her gaze to go but me when she finally peeks through her fingers again. I make myself solid, an unmoving, fixed point against the chaos.
“I won’t allow anything bad to happen to him. Luca is not unprotected,” I tell her, promising her.
She lets out a broken sound, grief and terror tangled together so tightly, it’s impossible to separate them. “I should’ve stayed gone… I should’ve run away from you when I had the chance. From all of this.”
The words cut deep, but I don’t pull back. I lean in closer until my forehead is nearly touching hers.
“And then what?” I ask quietly. “You spend the rest of your life running? Looking over your shoulder? Teaching him to hide from his own name forever?”
Her breath stutters.
“I would find you eventually. You know I would,” I add, just as softly.
She doesn’t answer me, nor does she argue.
“I won’t pretend my world is safe,” I continue. There’s no point in lying now. “It never has been. But I will not accept that I can’t protect my own son. Not from them. Not from anyone. You are both mine.”
Her hands finally fall away from her face, fingers trembling as they drop into her lap. She swallows hard, throat working as her red-rimmed eyes meet mine. I lift my hands and cup her face gently. Both thumbs brush beneath her eyes, wiping away the tracks of tears.
“I swear to you, nothing will happen to Luca. Not while I’m breathing.”
She stares at me for a long time. Long enough for hope to flicker inside my chest and then falter just as quickly when she finally speaks again.
Her voice is quiet, devastatingly so. “I wish I could believe you.”
They shatter something in my chest, a clean, brutal break that leaves no room to pretend it doesn’t gut me to hear that. I know she wants to trust me. I can see it in her eyes.
But wanting isn’t the same as believing.
In that moment, I understand with terrifying clarity that protecting Luca won’t just mean creating a brilliant strategy to get everything I want. It will mean earning back the faith of the woman who knows exactly what my world costs and is no longer sure she can afford to pay it.