Chapter 23
Romeo
I’m parked down a dirt road behind the airstrip, waiting. I never caught up to the car that contained Lucia, like I initially thought I would. The road was quiet—barely any traffic at this hour—but every vehicle I passed didn’t match. None of them felt right.
The problem was, I didn’t get the make, model, or even the colour of their vehicle when they pulled away. Just a flash of taillights disappearing into the dark. That’s all I had to go on.
So now I’m second-guessing everything. Every turn I took. Every car I let go. I can’t be entirely sure she wasn’t in one of those vehicles.
My biggest worry is that they haven’t arrived yet.
The private jet has been refuelled and is sitting on the runway waiting, but is that just a decoy? They should have gotten here before me, unless they took her back to the house first, or somewhere else altogether.
“Fuck,” I yell, slamming my clenched fist down on the steering wheel hard enough to make the whole car shake. I’m going out of my damn mind with worry, shrouded in a fog of guilt I can’t shake.
Dante ordered me to stay put. He’s got men posted at every possible access point. Roadways, buildings, fences, even the fucking tree lines.
He’s gone as far as putting his men in Italy on standby, just in case they somehow slip through our fingers and manage to get out of the country with Lucia.
He’s playing it smart, covering every angle. I’m grateful he’s keeping a level head, because I sure as hell can’t.
All I can think about is my wife.
Where is she?
How is she?
That fucking note, Salvatori left in Dante’s letterbox when he first arrived in Australia, still haunts me. Right now it’s playing on repeat in my head.
I’m going to fuck every crevice of that bitch when I get my hands on her, then I’ll share her with my men for the disrespect she’s shown me. When I’m done, I’ll slit her fucking throat.
A chill runs down my spine as I rest my arms on the steering wheel, leaning my forehead against them as I struggle to keep it together.
He came to this country carrying a grudge the size of a goddamn continent, and I can only assume it’s festered over the past few months.
I doubt he expected it to take this long to get his hands on her.
If he had, he probably would’ve stayed in whatever hole he crawled out of.
But to men like him, pride is everything.
And she wounded his. Deeply and publicly. And now he’s going to make her pay.
My throat tightens, and my hands start to tremble as images of Lucia flash through my mind. They’re uninvited and relentless. That lip-syncing routine she put on for Lil’ Peach a few nights ago, with all the drama and flair, as if she was headlining a sold-out show.
Lucia’s smile was so bright it could gut you. Her scowl? Sharp enough to draw blood. And those absurd little shimmies she used to do every morning, to chase away her blues—blues that I contributed to—stopped the day we got married.
It’s baffling how a man with all my hang-ups can make a woman as incredible as her happy.
Lucia’s daily theatrics and laughter brought life into every room. And through it all, and despite my walls … despite my flaws, she loved me. Fiercely. Quietly. In a hundred little ways that I should’ve appreciated more.
Her actions always spoke louder than her words, but I was too busy fighting my feelings … fighting her, to recognise them for what they were. Love. Unconditional fucking love. Something I’ve never had.
She saw all the skeletons in my closet, but none of that scared her away. If anything, it just made her love me more.
I should’ve told her that I loved her too.
I should’ve shown her how much she means to me.
There’s a long list of things I should’ve done.
Things I may never get the chance to do now.
One thing is for sure, I should never have left her in the car. She would’ve at least had a fighting chance if I’d kept her with me.
Jesus fucking Christ.
The knot in my throat grows larger, and tears sting my goddamn eyes. I haven’t cried since I was a little kid. I gave up on my emotions a long time ago, when I realised they never fixed anything.
Letting it out didn’t make the pain go away; it only lingered louder. So I buried it … every ache, every disappointment, every heartbreak, and I learned to live numb.
But now, as I sit here in the wreckage of everything I once had—of her—it’s all coming crashing back like a damn fucking tsunami.
No warning. No mercy. Just wave after wave of everything I tried to bury. The memories and the mistakes are pulling me under. There’s no dam strong enough to hold back this kind of grief. No numbness thick enough to drown the weight of regret.
No matter the outcome of tonight, I’ll never forgive myself for letting her down.
Never.
She hasn’t had a great life either. Her father was a monster, and she grew up under his iron fist. But unlike me, she never let it harden her heart. She loved openly and freely, even when the world gave her every reason not to.
I’ve always watched her with a kind of awe. The way she smiled at strangers, the way she forgave people who didn’t deserve it, the way she held on to hope like it was something she could pass around if you needed it more than she did.
Logically, she should’ve broken a hundred times over, but somehow, she didn’t.
Instead, she became the kind of person I never thought could exist. Someone who turned pain into gentleness, who met cruelty with kindness, not out of weakness, but because she believed love was the only fight worth choosing.
And maybe she was right.
Maybe I’ve spent so long guarding my heart that I forgot what it feels like to let someone in. To trust.
I built these walls thinking they’d protect me, but all they ever did was keep the good out. I see it now. Survival is one thing, but living is something else entirely. Against the odds, she chose to live.
I should’ve shown her how incredible she is while I had the chance.
I should’ve showered her with all the love she deserves.
I should’ve done so much more.
So much fucking more.
I sit up straight in my seat, swipe the back of my hand over my eyes, and reach for my phone, pulling up Dominic’s number. I can’t just sit here when she’s out there somewhere, experiencing God knows fucking what.
He lost his shit when I first rang him and told him what had happened, and since he was already in town, he went straight to the airstrip.
He arrived before the two airport staff and the pilot, and like me, he’s now lying in wait for the rest to get here. I just hope they’re coming, and that this isn’t all for nothing. That we’re not staking everything on a plan that was never going to play out.
Me: Any updates?
Dom: Nah
I reach for the door handle, step out of the car, and start pacing. Sitting still is driving me insane. My nerves are frayed, and I feel like I’m crawling out of my skin.
I’m back in the car because I’m becoming weaker by the minute. I’m clammy, nauseous, and feeling faint. I can only surmise it’s from the blood loss, which is now seeping down into my grey sweats.
I jump when the shrill ringing of my phone pulls me out of my own head. Grabbing it off the passenger seat, I glance down at the screen and see Dante’s name.
My hands are slick, my vision’s starting to blur at the edges, and every sound feels sharper, like I’m beginning to unravel. I’m struggling to keep my eyes open, but I can’t afford to go down. Not now. Not with everything about to ignite.
“Yeah,” I say once I’ve answered the call.
“Standby, we have movement. There’s a convoy of SUVs approaching the airstrip now. They’re a few minutes away.”
“Is she with them?”
He blows out a frustrated breath. “I don’t know. Sammy said the windows were blacked out, so he couldn’t see inside. I bet you anything Salvatori is in one of those vehicles, though.”
I tuck the phone between my shoulder and chin, reaching down between my legs for my gun. “Where do you want me?”
“Leave the car where it is. Come down on foot, but hurry. If we are going to hit them with the element of surprise, they can’t know we’re already here.”
“Okay,” I say as the adrenaline starts to kick back in.
“I’ll meet you behind the first building on the left. The smaller one. You would’ve passed it on the way in.”
“Alright. I’m going to grab some more ammo.”
I dash to the rear of the car, pop the back tailgate, lift the floor panel, and grab four spare magazines for my Glock that I’ve wedged in beside the spare tyre.
They each hold seventeen rounds, which is a lot of fucking bullets, but I have no idea what we’ll be facing.
If I have my way, every one of those fuckers is going to die tonight.
The wound in my side is pulsing by the time I make it to the end of the road. Each step I take sends a fresh jolt of pain radiating through my ribs. It’s hot and wet beneath my shirt, and I don’t need to look to know I’m still bleeding. Probably more than I should be, but I keep going. I have to.
Every breath burns, and each movement feels like I’m being torn open all over again, but none of that matters. Not when my entire future is at stake.
I’m panting like a retired action hero with a beer gut and a death wish by the time I reach my best friend.
Dante notices as soon as I slide up beside him. He turns his phone in my direction, shines it in my face and cocks an eyebrow. “You good, or should I call animal control?”
“What?” I ask, confused.
“You sound like a dying racehorse with asthma.”
“Fuck off,” I grumble, glancing away.
“I’m serious,” he says, grasping my chin and turning my face back towards the light. “You’re fucking grey. Are you on something?”
“What?” I snap, tugging my head out of his grip. “I think you know me better than that.”
My mother’s addiction was enough to turn me off dabbling in any illicit substances growing up. I even hate taking antibiotics for fuck’s sake.
He scowls. “Yeah, well, something is going on here; you look like a fucking corpse.” His frown deepens as he moves the light down my body. “Is that fucking blood?” he asks when he reaches my track pants.
The dark fabric of my T-shirt hides it well, but the grey of my sweats doesn’t.
“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” I say, shoving his phone away.
“The fuck it is,” he growls, reaching for the hem of my T-shirt and tugging it before I get a chance to stop him. “What the hell! Is that tape?”
My nostrils flare as I push air through my nose. “One of the fuckers at the park had a knife. I didn’t see it until it was too late. And yes, it’s tape. I had to improvise.”
His eyes widen, then narrow. “He stabbed you?”
“Obviously,” I grumble.
“That was almost two fucking hours ago! Why are you here? You should’ve called the family doctor straight away.”
“Well, I didn’t. I had something important to do.”
“More important than your fucking life?”
“I’m not leaving until I get Lucia back.”
My words have him rearing back. “Until you get her back? You’re talking like she’s yours.”
She is mine.
“You know what I mean.”
“Do I?” he retorts. “That sounded a tad possessive. Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“Do you honestly think this is the right time for a deep and meaningful?”
He blows out a puff of air. “You’re right, now sit.”
“Sit?”
“I’m sidelining you.”
“The fuck you are.”
“You might be my best friend … my underboss, but I’m still in charge, so sit the fuck down before you pass the hell out.”
I stay put until Dante disappears around the side of the building, but as soon as he’s out of sight, I scramble to my feet. Scramble is a stretch. It’s more like a slow, painful lurch, but I manage it, just not as fast as I’d like.
The second I’m upright, a wave of lightheadedness hits me like a freight train. I press a hand to the side of the building, using it to keep me steady as I take a breath that burns all the way down.
I move towards the edge of the building, staying out of sight as I assess the situation.
I scan the convoy of black SUVs as they roll to a stop, and the doors swing open one after the other. Eight armed men climb out with eyes sweeping their surroundings with military precision. But there’s no sign of Lucia.
One positive is that they are outnumbered, at least five to one. Dante got every man he could here at record speed.
Salvatori is the last to emerge, stepping out of the middle vehicle with the arrogance of a man who thinks he’s already won. Like the king he believes he is. Invincible. Untouchable. But he’s not. He won’t even be breathing by the time I’m through with him.
He doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t even look around. He strides straight for the jet, flanked by two of his men who shadow him like dogs on a leash. The rest of them fan out, taking positions around the tarmac with weapons slung low and ready, with their fingers close to the triggers.
Where is she?
Is she still en route, or—
I cut that thought off before I completely lose it.
She’s okay, I assure myself.
She’s o-fucking-kay.
I rest my forehead against the side of the building as bile rises to the back of my throat.
Please let her be okay.