Chapter 24
Missing
The days that followed Julian and Enzo finally giving in to their desire were a blur of stolen moments and quiet intimacy. For the first time, Julian allowed himself to feel something other than fear and resentment. Enzo’s touch, once a source of tension, became a refuge; a place where Julian could let go, even if just for a little while. They didn’t talk about what it meant, about the dangerous line they were walking. They didn’t need to. For now, it was enough.
The nights, however, were something else entirely.
Julian had never known what it felt like to be consumed by someone until Enzo. The way Enzo touched him, held him, looked at him; it was overwhelming, intoxicating. Each encounter was charged with something deeper than lust, something unspoken yet undeniable. They clashed as much as they came together, their hunger threaded with defiance, their bodies speaking in ways their words never could.
In the dim, golden glow of Enzo’s bedroom, shadows danced across the walls, casting the room in an intimate, almost otherworldly light. The air was thick with the scent of sandalwood and something uniquely Enzo; warm, earthy, intoxicating.
Julian lay pinned against the cool, smooth silk sheets, his body arching instinctively as Enzo hovered above him, his dark eyes burning with an intensity that made Julian’s breath catch. The weight of Enzo’s body pressed him into the mattress, solid and unyielding, yet Julian felt anything but trapped. He felt alive, every nerve in his body alight with anticipation.
"You keep fighting me," Enzo murmured, his voice low and rough, like the scrape of velvet over skin. His fingers trailed down Julian’s arm, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, the touch so achingly slow it made Julian shiver. "Even when you don’t want to."
Julian’s breath hitched as Enzo’s lips brushed over his jaw, the barest hint of contact sending a jolt of electricity straight to his core. His pulse hammered in his throat, his chest rising and falling with shallow, uneven breaths. He could feel the heat of Enzo’s body radiating against his own, the faint tremor in Enzo’s hands betraying the control he was so carefully maintaining. Julian’s lips parted, but no words came out; just a soft, shaky exhale that seemed to hang in the air between them.
"Maybe I like fighting you," Julian finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper, laced with a defiance that was more breath than bite. His hands, which had been gripping the sheets, now moved to Enzo’s shoulders, fingers digging into the hard muscle beneath his shirt.
A slow, wicked smile ghosted across Enzo’s lips, his eyes darkening with something that made Julian’s stomach twist in the best possible way. Before Julian could say another word, Enzo’s mouth was on his, capturing his lips in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was deep, deliberate, full of the tension that had been simmering between them for months, threatening to boil over. Julian’s hands flew to Enzo’s hair, tangling in the dark strands, pulling him closer, needing more, always more.
Enzo’s tongue slid against Julian’s, the kiss turning hungry, almost bruising in its intensity. Julian moaned softly into Enzo’s mouth; the sound swallowed by the heat between them. Enzo’s hands roamed over Julian’s body, mapping every curve and plane as if committing him to memory.
His touch was firm, possessive, yet there was a tenderness beneath it that made Julian’s chest ache. When Enzo’s fingers found the hem of Julian’s shirt, sliding beneath to trace the sensitive skin of his waist, Julian gasped, his back arching off the bed.
"Enzo," Julian breathed, his voice breaking on the name. It was a plea, a prayer, a confession all at once. His hands slid down to Enzo’s back, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them. The heat of Enzo’s body against his own was overwhelming, the friction of their movements sending sparks through Julian’s veins.
Enzo’s lips left Julian’s mouth, trailing down his jaw to his neck, where he pressed a series of searing kisses that made Julian’s head fall back against the pillows. A soft, involuntary sound escaped Julian’s lips, and Enzo responded with a low growl, his teeth grazing Julian’s skin in a way that sent shivers down his spine. Julian’s hands slid down to Enzo’s waist, gripping him tightly as if to steady himself, his body trembling with the intensity of it all.
They moved together in a way that felt both desperate and inevitable, their bodies fitting as if they had been made for this. Every touch, every gasp, every whispered name was a confession neither of them could bring themselves to say aloud. Enzo’s hands were everywhere; tangling in Julian’s hair, skimming down his sides, gripping his hips with a possessiveness that made Julian’s breath catch. Julian’s own hands roamed over Enzo’s back, feeling the play of muscle beneath his skin, the way his body moved with a controlled power that was both thrilling and terrifying.
When Enzo’s lips found Julian’s again, the kiss was slower, deeper, filled with a raw emotion that made Julian’s chest tighten. He could feel the way Enzo’s hands trembled slightly as they cupped his face, the way his breath hitched when Julian’s fingers traced the line of his spine. It was as if every barrier between them had been stripped away, leaving nothing but the truth of what they both wanted, what they both needed.
Afterward, when the heat of their passion had settled into something quieter, Enzo pulled Julian against him, their legs tangled beneath the sheets. It was strange, this closeness. Dangerous, even. Yet Julian didn’t pull away. For once, he let himself sink into the warmth, into the steady rhythm of Enzo’s heartbeat beneath his palm.
"You’re thinking again," Enzo murmured, his voice heavy with sleep.
Julian huffed a quiet laugh. "I always think."
Enzo’s fingers traced lazy circles against Julian’s back. "Then stop. Just for tonight."
Julian didn’t answer, but for the first time in a long time, he let himself believe it was possible.
???
But their happiness was short-lived.
It started with a whisper. A rumor about someone new in Enzo’s life, someone important.
The night it happened; Julian had needed space.
The walls of the mansion had begun to feel suffocating, the weight of his feelings for Enzo pressing down on him in a way he wasn’t ready to confront. So he had slipped outside, telling himself he just needed a walk to clear his head. The Moretti estate was heavily guarded, but Julian had learned which paths led to relative solitude. He told himself he would only be gone for a few minutes.
The night air was cool against his skin, the distant hum of the city beyond the mansion’s walls a comforting reminder that life outside this world still existed. Julian inhaled deeply, trying to push away the memories of Enzo’s touch, the way his hands had felt against his skin, the way his voice still lingered in his mind.
He was so lost in thought that he didn’t hear the footsteps until it was too late.
A hand clamped over his mouth, an arm locking around his chest in a vice-like grip. Julian’s instincts kicked in immediately; he struggled, twisting and kicking, his breath coming in frantic gasps against the stranger’s gloved palm. But the man was stronger, experienced, and knew exactly how to handle someone like him.
Julian managed to dig his heel into his attacker’s shin, earning a grunt of pain, but it wasn’t enough. The man’s grip only tightened, his other hand pressing something cold and metallic against Julian’s side.
“Stop fighting, doc,” the man growled, his voice low and edged with amusement. “Or this gets messy.”
Julian’s pulse thundered in his ears. He wanted to scream, to call for help, but the man’s grip was unrelenting. A second later, something sharp jabbed into his neck. A needle. His vision blurred almost instantly, his body turning sluggish as his strength drained away.
He fought to stay upright, to stay conscious, but the world tilted beneath his feet. The last thing he saw before darkness swallowed him whole was the distant glow of the mansion, Enzo’s name a silent prayer on his lips.
???
When Julian came to, his head was pounding, and his wrists were bound tightly behind his back. A dull ache radiated from the side of his neck where they must have injected him. He blinked, trying to clear his vision, but the dim lighting did little to help.
The air was thick with the smell of damp concrete and mildew, and the cold seeping through his clothes sent a violent shiver down his spine. His breathing was ragged, his pulse hammering in his ears as he took in his surroundings.
A warehouse. The walls were lined with rusted metal, shadows creeping in the corners where the faint flickering of a single overhead light couldn't reach. The floor was littered with debris; broken glass, discarded scraps of wood, and what looked disturbingly like dried bloodstains. The silence was deafening, save for the steady drip of water leaking from some unseen pipe above.
Panic surged through him, cold and suffocating. He yanked against the ropes, feeling the rough fibers bite into his skin. Too tight. Too strong. His fingers were already starting to go numb. He tried to call out, but the adhesive pull of duct tape over his mouth muffled his voice, turning his plea into nothing more than a desperate, muted sound.
Then, footsteps. Slow, deliberate, each step echoing through the vast emptiness of the warehouse. Julian’s breath hitched as a figure emerged from the shadows.
A man he didn’t recognize. Older, tall, broad-shouldered, with a face carved from stone; hard lines, cold eyes, a cruel tilt to his mouth that sent a sickening wave of dread curling in Julian’s stomach. Two others stood behind him, their presence just as menacing, their expressions blank but somehow filled with intent.
“He’s awake,” the man in front said, voice rough and laced with malice. He tilted his head slightly, as if assessing Julian like one would an animal in a cage. “Good. I was starting to think we gave him too much.”
Julian’s pulse pounded in his throat. He forced himself to breathe, to think. Panic wouldn’t help him. He needed to focus, to stay alert, to figure out what they wanted.
The man crouched down to Julian’s level, his movements slow, measured, like a predator toying with its prey. His lips curled into a mocking smile as he reached out, fingers brushing over Julian’s cheek with disturbing ease. The touch sent a violent shudder through Julian, rage flashing through him as he jerked away as much as his restraints would allow.
“Feisty,” the man murmured, amusement flickering in his dark eyes. “I can see why Moretti keeps you around.”
Julian’s stomach dropped.
This wasn’t random. This wasn’t about him.
It was about Enzo.
His captor saw the realization flicker across his face and smirked. “Don’t worry, Doc. This isn’t personal. You’re just a means to an end.”
Julian glared at him, fury overtaking the fear burning inside him. He struggled against his bindings again, the rope cutting deeper, his breath coming in sharp bursts through his nose. He refused to look weak, refused to let them see the fear clawing its way up his throat.
The man’s amusement faded, his eyes darkening. He straightened, turning to one of his companions. “Make the call.”
Julian’s blood turned to ice.
The other man pulled out a phone, dialing with an eerie calmness. Then, after a few rings, he spoke. "Let Moretti know we have his doctor. And that if he wants him back in one piece, he’ll listen very carefully to what we have to say."
Julian’s heart slammed against his ribs. He knew Enzo would come for him.
The only question was; how much blood would be spilled in the process?
???
Enzo was in his office, a glass of whiskey in hand, trying to drown out the thoughts that had plagued him for weeks. Thoughts of Julian; of his touch, his fire, his maddening defiance. The way his lips had felt against Enzo’s, the way his presence lingered even when he wasn’t there. He told himself he could bury it, ignore it, pretend it wasn’t unraveling something deep inside him.
The moment of forced peace shattered when Luca burst into the room, his expression grim, his knuckles white from how tightly he gripped his phone.
"Enzo." Luca’s voice was tight, controlled, but there was something beneath it, something raw and urgent.
Enzo straightened immediately, the ice in his glass clinking as he moved. He didn’t need to ask. He already knew something was wrong. "What?"
Luca took a breath, but it was clear he was barely keeping himself together. "I just got a call," he said, voice strained. "From one of De Luca’s people."
The name alone sent a slow, insidious rage curling in Enzo’s chest, poisoning the air in the room. "And?"
Luca hesitated, just for a fraction of a second. But Enzo saw it. Felt it. And that was all it took.
Enzo surged forward, grabbing Luca by the collar, dragging him closer. His heartbeat roared in his ears, drowning out everything but the pounding fury building in his veins. "And what, Luca? Spit it out."
Luca exhaled sharply, his own anger simmering just beneath the surface. His voice was quieter this time, but it cut through Enzo like a blade. "They have Julian."
The world stopped.
A silence so deep, so consuming, that it swallowed everything inside him.
They have Julian.
For a moment, there was nothing. No sound, no movement, no thought, only the slow, creeping realization that something inside him had just snapped.
Then the whiskey glass slipped from his fingers, crashing against the floor in an explosion of shattered crystal and amber liquid. The rage struck like lightning, searing through him, wild and all-consuming. His pulse pounded at his temples, his vision blurring at the edges with something dark and violent.
Julian. Taken. Hurt. Terrified.
The thought sent something primal surging through him. He turned abruptly, sending everything on his desk flying in a brutal, sweeping motion. Papers scattered like dead leaves, glass shattered, the heavy wooden lamp hit the floor with a sickening crack, but it wasn’t enough. None of it was enough to quell the fury clawing its way through his ribs, threatening to consume him whole.
Luca flinched slightly at the outburst, but he didn’t move. He had seen Enzo angry before. Had seen him furious, merciless, bloodthirsty. But this? This was different. This was personal in a way nothing else had ever been.
Enzo turned back to him, his eyes dark, merciless, burning with a fury that could set the world ablaze. "Where?"
"They haven’t said yet. But we’ll find him, Enzo. We always do."
Not fast enough.
Enzo wasn’t going to sit back and wait. He wasn’t going to let them dictate the terms. He would tear the city apart if he had to. There would be no negotiations, no compromises, only blood.
His fingers curled around the cold steel of his gun, yanking it from the drawer. He checked the magazine with practiced ease, his movements precise and controlled despite the wildfire raging inside him. The sharp click of the clip locking into place was deafening.
"Get everyone ready," he ordered, his voice eerily calm. "We’re going to war."
Luca nodded; his own fury evident. "I’ll make the calls."
As Luca stepped out of the office, Enzo braced his hands against the edge of the desk, breathing heavily. His muscles were tight, coiled like a predator on the verge of striking. Every fiber of his being screamed for action, for blood, for vengeance.
His enemies had taken the one person they shouldn’t have touched.
They had no idea what they’d just unleashed.