CHAPTER VII
I stood by the door of the room where Mya laid as the machines around her beeped steadily. She had finally been moved from the ICU to a private room.
She had coded on the way to the hospital and twice during surgery.
The bullet had missed her heart, but had punctured her lungs, causing them to collapse.
Mya was given a blood transfusion from losing so much blood.
Thankfully, the doctors had managed to remove the bullet that saved her life. Mya was lucky to be alive.
Mya stirred, her brow furrowing as she groaned. Slowly, she turned her head toward me, her eyes fluttering open.
“Nico?” Mya’s voice was raspy.
I stepped inside and moved to her. “Hey, Mya,” I said softly, forcing a smile. I took a seat beside her bed, resting my elbows on my knees and clasping my hands together to steady myself. “You scared the hell out of us.”
Mya let out a weak chuckle, though it quickly turned into a cough. “Sorry to disappoint, but you can't get rid of me.”
I gave her a half smile.
A shadow of worry crossed her face. “How’s your mom?”
I closed my eyes for a moment, wishing desperately that I could rewind the clock far enough back to save my mother. Mya would take the blame for what happened and be devastated.
“Nico?” Mya asked as she tilted her head slightly, searching my face for answers.
I inhaled deeply, the words I needed to say like lead in my throat. “She didn’t make it,” I whispered, opening my eyes to meet hers.
“Oh, Nico.” Tears pooled in her eyes. “Oh, my god. I?—”
I took her hand, brushing her knuckles with my thumb. “Shh. It’s okay.”
The tears spilled over, cascading down Mya’s cheeks. “It’s my fault. I told her not to leave, but she wouldn’t listen to me,” she choked out, the words thick with regret. “Nico, I’m so sorry.”
I squeezed her hand tighter. “It’s not your fault, Mya. Mom was going to do whatever the hell she wanted to do no matter what anyone said.”
Mom had never been one to follow the rules when it came to getting her way. I hoped Mya would recognize the truth in my statement so she no longer blamed herself.
Her face twisted in sorrow. “She didn’t deserve it. I should’ve?—”
“Stop,” I interrupted gently. “It’s not your fault, and she would say the same thing if she were here.”
Mya looked away, her gaze settling on the window as the clouds began to cover the sun. “She didn’t deserve to die.”
No, she didn’t, I thought to myself.
She turned back to me, her eyes glistening with tears. “What about Gigi?”
I hesitated. “She was...taken, but we’re doing everything we can to find her.”
“No,” Mya whispered, closing her eyes and resting her head against her pillow.
“We’re still looking into it, but we believe her grandfather may be involved.”
Mya’s eyes snapped open, confusion and disbelief swirling in her gaze. “Her grandfather ?” She shook her head. “What do you mean?”
I huffed out a breath, running my hands down my face, wishing I could peel off this skin that felt too tight because of the anger and regret gnawing at my insides. “It’s a long story.”
“Don’t care. Tell me,” she demanded, and so I did.
Once I disclosed all the events surrounding Gigi’s abduction, she looked away, tears streaming down her face. The only noise in the room was the steady beeping of the machines and her sniffles.
We sat there, caught in that stillness until Mya finally met my gaze, her eyes blazing with heartbreak. She squeezed my hand tightly as if trying to anchor me. But no matter how much comfort she offered me, the pain was killing me. And only Gigi would make the pain go away.
“I have faith that you will find her, Nico. And when you do, make those assholes suffer.” The fierceness in her words echoed my own rage.
“I will. I promise.”
The cool night air offered little solace as I stepped out of the hospital, my mind clouded with worry and grief. The drive home was a blur, the streets I once knew like the back of my hand a mere haze.
Christmas had passed, and now we found ourselves in the New Year. Experiencing two holidays without my Angel was gradually breaking me down, and soon I would become nothing more than a memory.
The heavy iron gate creaked open, and I guided my car through the entrance to the underground garage.
I sat there, numb, staring out the window.
An unbearable ache twisted in my chest, a constant reminder that when I finally gathered the courage to walk back into the house, my reason for breathing would not be there.
With a heavy heart, I turned off the engine.
Exiting the vehicle, I proceeded towards the main floor, where the guards acknowledged my arrival.
Every step I took, the ache deepened, clawing at my insides like a wild animal desperate to escape.
I wanted nothing more than to tear my heart from my chest, to free myself from the suffocating truth that it was now dead.
Without my angel, it lay still, no longer beating, no longer alive.
There were numerous instances when I wanted to break down and surrender to my vulnerability, but I couldn’t take that risk.
I was the fucking king.
To show even a flicker of weakness would invite my enemies to take their shot and jeopardize my chances of finding Gigi. I would be fighting a war at home when my focus should be on rescuing her.
The moment I crossed the threshold, Demon was at my side. He had been as lost and troubled as I had since Gigi was taken.
“Hey, boy,” I murmured, crouching to scratch behind his ears. “I miss her too.” He whined softly as if agreeing and followed me to my office. Two of my guards stood by the door.
“Boss,” they acknowledged with a slight nod.
I caught sight of Luca, Lo, and Matteo making their way toward me.
“Have you heard anything new?” I asked them, stepping into my office.
“No. Nothing but silence,” Matteo answered.
“That’s what I was afraid of,” I said, moving to the bar and pouring myself a drink.
“Where have you been?” Lo asked.
“I went to see Mya.” I took a gulp from my glass and letting the harsh liquid spread through me.
“How is she?” Luca looked up from his screen, his expression shifting from one of focus to genuine concern.
“She’s better,” I stated, taking another long drink. “She knows.”
“Knows?” Matteo echoed.
I glanced at each of them. “I told her everything. About Mom and Gigi.”
Understanding flickered in their eyes. Not wanting to linger on that topic, I shifted the conversation.
“How are Tabi and Tristan doing?” I asked, glancing at my brother.
Lo exhaled deeply, rubbed his hand down his face, and leaned forward against the bar. “She’s having a real fucking hard time, brother. She has nightmares and shit. But Tristan’s like a typical kid. He bounced right the shit up. Although he’s been asking when Gigi’s coming home from her trip.”
“She hasn’t said anything more about that night she was taken?” I asked.
“No, she hasn’t,” came the quiet reply.
We sat in silence, each lost in our thoughts, when the ringing of my phone abruptly shattered the peacefulness.
I reached for it and saw a text message from an unfamiliar number.
As I unlocked the screen, a sense of foreboding filled the air.
With a swift click, the message revealed itself, and my world came crashing down.
The glass in my hand slipped, shattering on the ground, the sound echoing through the room.
“What's wrong?” Matteo’s voice cut through my anger, his concern evident as he rose.
My hands trembled violently. On the screen was an image of Gigi, my Angel , captured in a vulnerable state, sending a surge of rage through my veins.
She was stripped down to nothing but her underwear.
She lay on her side, the sharp angles of her ribs and the hollowness in her cheeks evident.
My gaze dropped to the chains snaking around her neck, and that's when I saw it—a collar. A fucking collar.
Zip ties dug into her wrists and ankles behind her back. She was on that filthy floor, soaked, water pooling around her. The image made me want to kill every fucking person who was in the same vicinity as Gigi. Lo snatched the phone from my unresisting hand.
“What the hell?” Lo’s whisper was laced with shock. Drawn by the commotion, Matteo and Luca approached, their eyes widening at the photo.
“Is she...” Luca's voice trailed off as if he couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing.
I closed my eyes, the image of Gigi’s seemingly lifeless body playing in my mind. She lay there, her once vibrant self reduced to skin and bones, restrained and helpless.
She was lying still.
Too fucking still.
Lo thrust the phone back into my hand. “There’s a fucking video.”
With a trembling finger, I tapped play, and a robotic voice filled the room. “Are you missing your little angel, Nico?” My insides twisted with hatred as the camera panned, revealing his sinister intentions for her.
“Gigi, should we show Nico how well you do under pressure?” The voice was sickeningly calm.
An unfamiliar female voice echoed over the video, her tone laced with desperation. “Please, stop it!”
“Wait. Did you hear that?” Luca asked. “Someone else is in the room.”
I didn’t respond because my attention was glued to the fucking screen.
As the camera steadied, the sound of rushing water filled the air, and my breath caught in my throat.
A powerful jet of water erupted, slamming into Gigi's body, forcing a scream from her lips. Her delicate skin couldn’t withstand the assault, and it broke from the impact.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away, witnessing the blood seeping from her skin, the water torturing her fragile form. The video ended with a sinister laugh, a taunt I knew was meant to break me.
I hurled the phone across the room, but Matteo caught the device before it collided with the wall.
I unleashed my fury on the furniture, throwing a chair at the window, its glass cracking.
Every item within reach was swept off my desk, and I pounded the wall, my knuckles splitting open, the pain a mere echo compared to the torment in my heart.
Matteo and Luca wrestled me back, their strong arms restraining my wild swings. “Get a hold of yourself, Nico!” Matteo’s shouted, his grip tight.
“We need you focused,” Luca said, his breath ragged. “Gigi needs you, so don’t let this break you. It’s exactly what he wants.”
I shook them off and stumbled toward the window, struggling to keep my shit together. With a deep breath, I willed myself to regain control, my anger transforming into determination.
“Luca, analyze that video and find any clues or location details. We need to narrow down her whereabouts.”
Luca nodded, his fingers flying across the keyboard.
Alphonse’s number lit up my screen, and I answered the call.
“What the hell is this?!” he growled through the line.
“A warning,” I bit out, my jaw clenching. “A message that he’s in control, and we can’t do shit to stop him.” I slammed my hand on the desk.
He chuckled derisively. “Of course he believes that. He’s been watching your every move. I had a conversation with the Capo della Polizia today. They intercepted some chatter regarding four drug mules trafficking heroine to Italy.”
A chill ran down my spine.
Alphonse’s tone grew graver as he continued. “When they apprehended the women, two of them died from an overdose at the airport.” He sighed heavily. “They were barely twenty years old.”
“What about the other two?” I asked. “Did they mention who took them?”
“Yes. The Puppet Master.”
My breath quickened, each inhale sharp and jagged. I pressed my fingers against my temples, trying to dull the migraine that was forming.
The hot, seething anger pulsed through my veins, reminding me of the beast inside me trying to break free. I could feel it thrash against my ribcage with every heartbeat, demanding to make his presence known and avenge our girl.
“Did they get a good look at the man?” I asked, snapping my fingers at Matteo and Luca. They leaned in, their focus intense.
“Yes. I’m sending you his mugshot and information now.”
My phone dinged, and I pulled up the file, forwarding it to Luca. I narrowed my eyes as I scanned the man’s image—tattoos crawling up his face like a spider’s web, and he had a criminal record the size of a book, including sexual assault of a minor. His name was Gabriel Sanchez.
“We’ve pinpointed a few of his houses in Chicago,” Alphonse said curtly.
My body tensed. “Chicago?”
“Yes. The coordinates are coming to you now.”
The phone dinged again, and I pulled up the GPS data. “Received. We’re on it.”
“I’m catching a flight to you in the next few days, and I’ll have some of my men with me,” he said with determination. “Torture every motherfucker you come across until one of them gives up his whereabouts. We will do whatever it takes to bring my daughter home.”
And my woman, I thought, my anger fueling my resolve. I wasn't backing down either.