Chapter 25 Elio
ELIO
The drive to Ronan’s feels like driving toward my own execution.
I keep my hands steady on the wheel, my eyes on the road, but my mind is back at the penthouse—back in that bedroom with Annie, the way she looked at me when I told her it was over. The tears streaming down her face. The raw devastation in her voice when she asked if I loved her.
I did. I do. That's the whole goddamn problem.
But I can't think about that now. I can't think about the way she cried, or the things we said to each other in anger. Can't think about how I left her there, alone and heartbroken, while I drive back to face her brother and continue this charade of loyalty.
My phone buzzes in the cup holder. I glance down and see Diego's name on the screen.
I let it go to voicemail. Whatever he needs to tell me can wait until after this meeting.
Right now, I need to focus on getting through the next hour without Ronan figuring out that I've been hiding his sister for the past nearly two weeks.
That I married her.
That I made her mine.
That I’m so completely, irrevocably in love with her that the thought of letting her go makes me want to put my fist through the windshield.
I kill the engine in front of the mansion and sit in the silence for a moment, collecting myself.
I need to be sharp for this. Need to have my story straight.
As far as Ronan knows, I've been searching for Annie just as hard as he has.
I've checked every lead, followed every possible connection, come up empty every time.
It's not a lie. Not exactly. I have been keeping her safe, which is what he would want. I just haven't told him about it.
And I've been fucking her. And married her. Those are slightly bigger omissions.
The air in the mansion is tense as I walk in. Something feels off, but why wouldn’t it? Ronan has been tearing himself apart since the morning he found out Annie was gone. Of course this place feels like a fucking mausoleum.
I knock once when I reach Ronan’s office and push the door open.
Ronan is standing by the window, his back to me, looking out over the estate.
He's in shirtsleeves, his jacket draped over the back of his chair, and his hands are shoved deep in his pockets.
The posture might look casual to someone who doesn't know him, but I do. He looks tense, on edge. It’s no surprise.
“Ronan.” I close the door behind me.
He doesn't turn around. "How long have we known each other, Elio?"
The question catches me off guard. "Since we were kids. Why?"
"Twenty years." He still hasn't moved, still hasn't looked at me. "It’s been almost twenty years since my father took you on as a ward. Since you were basically my brother. We grew up together. It fucking tore me apart when they sent you to Chicago. Like my brother leaving home—like when Tristan left.”
"I know." My hand is still on the doorknob, my body instinctively recognizing danger even if my mind hasn't caught up yet. "Ronan, what's this about?"
“You said you were loyal when you came back. That you wanted to rebuild what Rocco destroyed. That you'd always have my back, no matter what."
Fuck.
He knows.
I don't know how, but he knows.
"I meant it," I say, and my voice is steady even though my heart is pounding. "I still do."
"Then where is my sister?"
The question hangs in the air between us like a grenade with the pin pulled, as Ronan finally turns to face me. I can see it in his eyes—the suspicion, the rage barely held in check, the hurt underneath it all. He doesn't just suspect any longer. He's convinced.
"I don't know," I say, the words bitter on my tongue. "I've been looking for her just like—"
"Don't." The word cracks like a whip. "Don't you fucking dare lie to me. Not now. Not about this."
The door pushes open, making me stagger back. Four men stride in, surrounding me. My hand instinctively goes toward my gun, but Ronan's voice stops me.
"I wouldn't." His eyes are on mine, and I've never seen him look at me like this before. Like I'm the enemy. "You pull that weapon, and you're dead before you clear the holster."
Slowly, carefully, I move my hand away from my jacket. "Ronan, listen to me—"
"No. You fucking listen." He's close enough now that I can see the sleepless nights written on his face too, the strain and worry that's been eating at him.
"I've been tearing this city apart looking for Annie.
Following every lead, chasing every rumor, losing my goddamn mind thinking about what whoever has her might be doing to her.
And the whole time, you've been by my side.
Helping me search. Offering suggestions. Acting like you fucking care."
"I do—”
"Shut up." The rage in his voice makes me flinch. "This ends now, Elio. I know you know more than you’re telling me. You’re fucking hiding something. Maybe not Annie, but something. And I’m going to fucking find out what it is.”
My throat goes dry. "Ronan, you don't understand—"
"Make me understand." He's in my face now, close enough that I can feel the heat of his breath. "Make me understand why my most trusted man, the brother I chose, has been lying to me while I've been going out of my mind with worry.”
I could tell him now. I could tell him everything.
But I think that ends with me dead before the last word leaves my mouth.
Whatever comes next isn’t going to be pretty—hell, Ronan might plan to question me, and that won’t be easy to get through.
But I can try to think of a way to convince him.
Try to think of a way out of this that doesn’t end with me dead.
“This isn’t what you think, Ronan. I’ve been trying to help you. I want her back, too. This isn’t—” I suck in a breath, trying to calm myself. “You’re making a mistake.”
For a moment, I think he might actually kill me himself. His hand goes to the gun at his hip, and I see the muscle in his jaw working as he fights for control.
"Sir?" One of the guards speaks up. "What do you want us to do?"
Ronan's eyes never leave mine. "Take him."
The guards move fast, grabbing my arms before I can react. I don't fight them—there's no point. I'm outnumbered and outgunned, and fighting would only make this worse.
"Ronan, don't do this," I say as they pull my arms behind my back. "We need to focus on finding who did this. Annie is still in danger—"
“I have a feeling she’ll be in less danger now.” His voice is ice cold. “Search him.”
The guards pull my gun from its holster, then pat me down for weapons, finding the knife I keep on me, as well. The weapons are tossed onto a nearby table as Ronan watches me impassively.
"Search every safe house that belonged to De Luca before Elio took over," Ronan orders. "Every property, every apartment, every warehouse. I want to know exactly where Annie is, and I want her brought to me immediately."
My heart stops. I’m terrified he might lead Desmond straight to her. "Ronan—"
He nods to the guards, and they start dragging me toward the door.
"Ronan, please." I'm begging now, and I don't care. "Don't do this. We need to work together—"
"We're done working together." He turns away, back to the window, dismissing me.
"You're going to be held in a secure location until I decide what to do with you.
And pray that when I find Annie, she tells me a very different story than the one I'm imagining.
Because if I find out you hurt her, if I find out you coerced her in any way, I will kill you myself. Brother or not."
"I would never hurt her—"
He doesn't turn around. "Get him out of my sight."
They drag me out of the office, down the hallway, out to the courtyard, past shocked staff and a wide-eyed Leila on the stairs. There's a black SUV waiting, engine running, and they shove me into the back seat.
One of the guards gets in beside me, gun drawn and pointed at my ribs. "Don't try anything stupid."
I don't respond. There's nothing left to say.
As we pull out of the garage and into the city traffic, I watch the buildings slide past and think about Annie. About how the last things we said to each other were in an argument. How I might never get to tell her that I love her.
About how I've destroyed everything—my brotherhood with Ronan, my relationship with Annie, the fragile trust I've spent years building.
All because I couldn't keep my hands off the one woman in the world I should have protected from myself.
The SUV turns down a familiar street, and I realize where they're taking me. One of the O'Malley warehouses on the waterfront. I've been there before, on the other side of the equation. I know exactly what happens in that building.
This is bad. This is worse than bad.
Not telling Ronan from the start—that was the mistake.
I should have trusted him. Should have known that he would have worked with me to keep Annie safe.
Instead, I tried to handle it alone, and now everything is falling apart.
I should have convinced her that going to him was the right thing to do.
Done the smart thing instead of what I wanted, which was to make her happy with me.
Keep her trust, her love, her desire—everything I’ve craved.
Now, everything I've worked for, everything I've built, is falling apart. My brotherhood with Ronan is shattered. My relationship with Annie is over. And Desmond is still out there, still a threat, still plotting.
I've failed at everything.
The only question now is whether Ronan will give me a chance to fix it—or whether this warehouse is the last place I'll ever see.