Chapter 20
The thumb
Darkness pressed against him, thick and suffocating, wrapping around his senses like a vice. His head throbbed, pain radiating from somewhere deep inside his skull, and for a moment, he felt like he was sinking, drowning in it. His body was heavy, limbs sluggish as if weighed down by invisible chains. The air around him was stale, laced with the metallic scent of blood and sweat.
Then a voice, urgent, panicked, cut through the haze.
"Matteo. Matteo, wake up."
The desperation in the voice pulled him out of the abyss. He forced his eyes open, wincing against the dim, flickering light of the room. His vision swam, shapes blurring before sharpening into Aldo’s face, drawn tight with worry. There was a bruise forming along his jaw, a thin trail of blood at his temple. The sight made something twist in Matteo’s gut, though he wasn’t sure why.
"I'm alive," Matteo rasped, the words scratching at his dry throat. Every muscle ached; his wrists raw from the rough ropes binding them to the chair.
Aldo exhaled sharply, his face tightening briefly before he looked away, tension still radiating from his body. "Yeah, well, barely."
A chuckle sounded from the other side of the room, dark and amused, and Matteo turned his head with effort, finding Vincenzo Russo smirking at them from his own chair. Despite the bruises darkening his face, the man looked entirely too entertained by the situation.
"When did this happen?" Russo mused, tilting his head as if he were observing something truly fascinating. "Moretti and a De Luca? Well, now I've seen it all."
Matteo scowled and ignored him. Aldo did the same, though his fists clenched at his sides, the tension in his shoulders unmistakable.
Russo let out a barking laugh. "Oh, come on! This is rich! You two should see yourselves; like some tragic lovers in a bad crime novel. What would dear Enzo think, huh, Moretti? Or the other one? Think Luca would approve?"
"Shut up, Russo," Aldo growled, his voice low and dangerous, vibrating with barely restrained fury.
"Or what? You gonna kill me?" Russo smirked, gesturing around with his chin. "In case you haven't noticed, we’re all in the same fucking boat now."
Aldo turned away from him, jaw locked. "We need to figure out a way out of here."
Matteo shifted against his restraints, testing the strength of the ropes that bound his wrists and ankles to the chair. They were tight, too tight. His body ached from the earlier beating, but there was no time to dwell on it. Every second they wasted sitting here brought them closer to whatever fate their captors had in store.
"They're after information," he murmured, voice steadier now. "And they’re especially interested in my family. That means they’re planning something bigger. If we don’t get out of here soon..."
"They’ll use you to get to Enzo and Luca," Aldo finished grimly. His gaze darkened, a storm brewing behind his eyes. "We’re not letting that happen."
Matteo nodded, then glanced around the dimly lit room, assessing their surroundings. The place was pure concrete; walls, floor, ceiling. No windows. The only way out was the thick metal door their captors had come through. It had a small, barred window near the top, but nothing they could use to their advantage, yet.
"If we can get one of them to come in here alone…" Aldo started, his voice lowering in thought.
Matteo caught on immediately. "We can overpower him. But we need to be smart about it."
Aldo nodded. Matteo glanced down at his restraints, frustration tightening his expression. "These ropes are tough, but if we can loosen them, even a little, we might have a chance."
"I can dislocate my thumb," Aldo said, flexing his fingers experimentally.
Matteo shot him a sharp look. "That’s a terrible idea."
"It’s a practical idea," Aldo countered. "And it might be the only way."
Russo let out a low whistle. "Damn, you two really are something else." He leaned his head back against the chair, grinning despite his battered state. "I’ll sit back and enjoy the show. Just don’t get me killed in the process."
Neither Aldo nor Matteo responded. They had no intention of dying here. Now, all they needed was the right moment to strike.
???
Aldo took a deep breath, steadying himself. He flexed his fingers, testing the ropes one last time before gritting his teeth and jerking his thumb at an unnatural angle.
A sharp, sickening pop echoed through the room, followed by a bolt of pain that shot up his arm. He bit back a curse, his jaw clenching as he worked his hand free, fingers slipping through the loosened bonds.
Matteo watched, a mixture of respect and exasperation flashing across his face. "You're insane."
Aldo ignored him, shaking out his hand before quickly moving over to Matteo. His fingers worked with practiced efficiency, undoing the tight knots securing Matteo’s wrists. The moment the ropes fell away, Matteo rubbed at the sore skin, rolling his shoulders to work out the stiffness.
Aldo pressed a finger to his lips, signaling silence. He then moved toward the door, pressing his back against the wall right beside it, ensuring he was completely hidden when it opened. Taking a breath to steady himself, he called out, his voice laced with urgency and panic.
"Hey! Somebody get in here! Moretti’s not breathing! He’s fucking dying!"
His voice was so convincingly distressed that Russo actually chuckled from his chair, shaking his head in amusement. "Shit, De Luca, if you weren’t born into this life, you could’ve been an actor."
Matteo shot Russo a glare and whisper-shouted, "Shut up!"
Heavy footsteps echoed from the hallway. A second later, the lock clicked, and the metal door creaked open. A guard stepped in, his gaze immediately darting to Matteo, who slumped in his chair, feigning lifelessness. The guard cursed under his breath and rushed forward, kneeling beside him to check for a pulse.
By the time he realized Matteo wasn’t actually dying and that Aldo was nowhere to be seen, it was too late.
Aldo struck like a predator. He launched forward, wrapping a powerful arm around the guard’s neck in a chokehold, locking it in tight. The man thrashed, his hands clawing at Aldo’s arm, but Aldo held firm, muscles straining as he squeezed. The struggle lasted mere seconds before the guard’s movements weakened, his body sagging as unconsciousness took him.
Aldo lowered him to the floor silently, then exhaled, flexing his sore fingers. "One down."
Matteo stood, shaking off the last of the stiffness, his eyes already scanning the unconscious man for weapons. Russo smirked from his chair, watching them with mild amusement. "Not bad. Now untie me.”
Aldo and Matteo stood over Russo, exchanging a look of silent debate. Leaving him tied up would certainly be the safer option; less trouble, less unpredictability. But they both knew Russo didn't actually deserve to be there, and he was only because they messed up.
“He’s going to be a problem,” Matteo muttered under his breath.
Aldo exhaled sharply. “Like he isn’t already.” He stared at Russo for a moment longer before rolling his eyes and stepping forward, muttering curses beneath his breath as he crouched to undo the knots. "If you pull any shit, I swear to God..."
Russo flexed his wrists the moment the ropes fell away, rolling his shoulders with a satisfied sigh. "About time," he muttered, shaking out his hands before looking up at them with that ever-present smirk. "So, what’s the master plan, geniuses?"
Aldo shot him a look. "The plan is for you to shut up and follow closely. If you get yourself shot, I’m not dragging your sorry ass out of here."
Matteo, standing beside him, nodded in agreement. "We move fast and quiet. No stupid risks."
Russo chuckled, rubbing at the raw skin on his wrists. "Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it."
Aldo ignored him and crouched beside the unconscious guard, making quick work of stripping him of his left sidearm. He checked the magazine; full. Good. He reached over to the other side, repeating the process before standing and tossing the second gun to Matteo.
Matteo caught it easily, checking the weight in his palm before giving Aldo a nod. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second, silent understanding passing between them.
Russo raised a brow. "And mine?"
Aldo shot him a look of pure disbelief. "You think I’m arming you?"
Russo held a hand to his chest, mock offended. "You wound me, De Luca."
Matteo rolled his eyes. "You’re lucky we untied you."
Russo smirked but didn’t push his luck. Instead, he gestured to the door. "Well? Lead the way, fearless leaders."
Aldo huffed but turned toward the door, pressing his ear against it. The hallway beyond was eerily quiet. Either the others hadn’t heard the scuffle, or they were waiting. He looked back at Matteo and Russo, lowering his voice. "Stay close. If anyone gets in our way, don’t hesitate."
Matteo gave a sharp nod, gripping his gun tightly. Russo stretched his fingers, looking unbothered but watchful.
Aldo took a steady breath, hand tightening around the gun’s grip. With a final glance at his unlikely allies, he reached for the handle and pushed the door open just enough to peer through.
The hallway beyond stretched long and narrow, dimly lit by overhead bulbs that flickered inconsistently, casting jagged shadows along the concrete walls. The scent of dampness and old blood clung to the air, mixing with the metallic tang of rust.
They stepped out cautiously, keeping their footfalls as silent as possible against the cold, hard floor. Aldo led, gun raised and eyes sharp, while Matteo stayed a step behind, his own weapon held steady. Russo brought up the rear, his usual smirk absent for once, his body tensed like a predator waiting to strike.
The corridor remained still for a moment too long, the quiet unsettling. Aldo signaled for them to move forward, their pace careful but quick, hugging the walls as they progressed. As they neared a junction, muffled voices echoed from around the bend. A pair of guards; armed and unaware of their presence.
Aldo acted first, darting forward with lethal precision. He seized the first guard in a vice grip, yanking him back and muffling his attempted shout with a swift, brutal strike to the throat. The second turned, eyes widening, but Matteo was faster. A single silenced shot punched through the man’s chest before he could react, his body slumping heavily to the ground.
Russo whistled lowly, stepping over the bodies. "Efficient. I like it."
Aldo ignored him, crouching to search the fallen guards. He pulled free another gun and an extra magazine, tossing them to Matteo before checking the corridor again. The tension in the air thickened as they continued forward, their senses heightened with every step. They passed a few more rooms, most empty, some locked, but there was no time to linger.
As they reached the final stretch, the distant sound of an engine rumbling to life sent a chill through Aldo’s spine. They quickened their pace, emerging from the back entrance of the villa into the ruined gardens, the destruction from the earlier attack still evident, charred earth, shattered stone, and the still-lingering scent of smoke.
And there, just beyond the rubble, a sleek black car was pulling away.
At the wheel was Sofia, her traitorous face set with grim determination. In the passenger seat, Vittorio glanced back, catching sight of them just as the tires kicked up dust.
"Son of a bitch," Aldo hissed, raising his gun instinctively, but the distance was too great. The car sped past the wrought-iron gates, vanishing down the dirt road before he could even think of shooting.
Matteo swore under his breath, eyes locked on the fading taillights. "They’re getting away."
Russo ran a hand through his hair, exhaling heavily. "Well, that complicates things."
Aldo clenched his jaw, fingers curling tightly around his weapon. The fury bubbling in his chest was nearly blinding, but there was no time for rage now. Vittorio and Sofia had played them, and they had just lost their only lead.
But the game wasn’t over.
He turned to Matteo, his expression hard. "We need to know where they are going"
Matteo nodded. Russo simply grinned, cracking his knuckles. "Oh, I like where this is going." he said as he looked to the side where another guard stood, unaware of them.