Chapter 30
ELENA
Ihad passed out in that industrial tomb, certain the freezing darkness had claimed both me and my child.
Waking in this warehouse had not felt like salvation.
It felt like a second punishment.
The air in this place smelled of rust, oil, and decay.
My stomach was flat now—unnaturally so—and the absence terrified me more than the pain.
No weight. No movement. No soft, relentless reminders that I was carrying life inside me.
Just... emptiness.
And pain.
The dull, relentless throb of afterpains.
The sting in my chest. The raw ache in my throat.
The silence where my baby should have been.
No kicks. No pressure.
Only the unbearable question clawing at my mind—
Is he alive?
I had hidden behind the tallest pile of crumpled papers and discarded clothing, every instinct I had left screaming at me to survive.
To stay hidden. To stay alert.
If anyone came through that door, I would fight.
Use whatever strength remained in these exhausted limbs.
Because weakness here meant death.
I had not survived everything I had endured just to die like this.
I was CIA-trained once.
Even broken, I could still be lethal.
And when I finally spotted a figure in the dim room, desperation overtook me.
I lunged forward, swinging wildly in a frantic attempt to knock the person unconscious.
But he was far more skilled than I expected.
In one fluid motion, he deflected my attack, twisted free, and sent me sprawling across the floor with a powerful kick.
Only then did the dim light reveal his face.
Vincenzo.
Shock didn’t even begin to describe what slammed into me.
The man who had heartlessly thrown me and our son into a freezing room on the word of his mistress wouldn’t hesitate to leave me to die in this warehouse if it suited him.
Why would he care now?
I had watched him beg for forgiveness earlier, his voice raw and desperate, as though absolution were something I could simply hand over.
As if I could erase the cruel words he’d hurled at me, the humiliation he’d forced me to endure in front of his mistress, the threats, the punishments.
As if I could forget it all and open my arms to him again.
No.
A man like that deserved nothing from me.
I had seen how broken he looked, yet I felt nothing.
Or at least, I told myself I felt nothing.
As far as I was concerned, his hatred for me was now perfectly mutual.
And yet... the truth was far more painful.
I had loved Vincenzo since the day we met as children in that hidden cave.
That love had never died, not even after he married me so abruptly, not even when I tried desperately to kill it.
No matter how hard I fought, the feeling refused to be quenched.
That was why every harsh word and every cruel action had cut so deeply.
But he had finally pushed me past my limit.
He claimed he punished me for what my father did to him.
As if that could ever justify the pain he put me through.
Now, hours later, I lay curled against his chest like a woman who still trusted him, my body betraying me even as he carried me out of the warehouse.
His arms were strong and careful around me, but I refused to let that soften the ice in my heart.
His breath hitched.
My fingers curled slightly into the rough fabric of his shirt, grounding myself against the storm of conflicting emotions crashing inside me.
He exhaled shakily, the sound raw and unsteady.
None of it moved me.
All I wanted was the divorce papers... and the chance to walk away from him forever.
“Elena,” he said, his voice low and rough, as if the words were being dragged out of him. “Stay. Please.”
He swallowed hard, the muscle in his jaw flexing.
When he spoke again, the firmness had returned, but this time it was laced with something raw.
“I will treat you better. I swear it. If you stay, I’ll give you everything—my name, my empire, my life. All of it.”
His grip on me tightened, almost possessive, even as his tone fractured.
“I trusted the wrong people. Ciro. Violet. My own fucking pride. I let them poison everything... I let them convince me you were the enemy when the truth was right in front of me the whole time.”
He exhaled shakily.
“I’m begging you, Elena. Don’t leave me. Let me prove I’m not the monster I’ve become. Give me one chance—just one—to show you the man I should have been.”
The warehouse seemed to hold its breath around us.
I let the silence stretch between us, thick and heavy.
Then I tested him, pushing just enough to see the truth.
I curled deeper into his arms, my voice deceptively soft.
“If you really want me to stay... if you want me to believe you can be a better man, then start by bringing me Violet’s head.”
I already knew he would never do it.
She meant more to him than anything—more than me, more than our child, more than his own soul.
If Violet still lived inside him, then every apology he’d uttered was nothing but empty noise.
Vincenzo didn’t even hesitate.
“That’s the easiest thing you could ask of me,” he said, his voice almost gentle.
There was no anger, no edge.
“I never loved Violet.”
I barked out a bitter laugh. “You keep saying that, yet you listened to her every word. You protected her. You showed her love. That is love, Vincenzo. You just refuse to admit it.”
“I was blind,” he admitted quietly. “Or maybe I didn’t want to see.”
His voice cracked. “I caused you unimaginable pain. I treasured a liar over my own wife. I threatened your body, your freedom... your life.”
The admission hung in the air, heavy and unforgivable.
My eyes grew heavy with exhaustion and a bone-deep weariness that made holding onto my anger feel impossible.
My hands trembled as I pressed them against his chest, still cradled in his arms.
“I just... I can’t wait to see my son,” I whispered.
We were nearly at the final exit of the warehouse when Vincenzo suddenly stopped.
He lowered me gently to my feet, his movements careful and controlled, then drew his Glock with practiced ease.
The sharp metallic click of the chamber being checked sliced through the silence.
“There are still men around,” he said, positioning his body in front of mine.
“Stay behind me, okay?”
I nodded wearily and slipped behind him, knowing I had nothing left.
If they attacked now, I wouldn’t be able to fight.
Every drop of strength had been bled out of me.
“Are they Spanish?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper as he scanned the shadows.
“No. They’re my soldiers,” he replied, jaw tight.
“But they were recruited by Ciro. The ones who locked you up here followed his orders. They’ve betrayed the family, just like he did.”
His jaw clenched harder.
Then everything exploded.
A figure emerged from the darkness and fired at the same moment Vincenzo did.
Vincenzo grabbed me and dragged me behind cover as two more gunshots cracked through the air.
He groaned sharply as we hit the ground.
Without wasting a second, he pulled out his phone and dialed Renzo, voice strained with pain. “Renzo—backup, now. Ironveil warehouse.”
That was when I saw it.
Blood was soaking through his left side, just below the ribs.
He had been trying to hide it from me.
“Oh my God— you’ve been shot!” Panic ripped through me like fire.
“I’ll be fine,” he groaned, pressing a hand to the wound.
But the sight of his blood triggered a memory so vivid it nearly knocked the breath out of me.
Years ago, in that same hidden cave where we met as children, he had been bleeding then too.
Without thinking, I had torn a strip from my own clothes to stop the bleeding.
I did the same now.
I ripped the bottom of my hospital gown with steady hands, folded the fabric, and pressed it firmly against his wound, trying to staunch the flow.
“Elena, don’t...” His voice was weak. “I deserve to die.”
“You are the father of my child,” I said fiercely, refusing to pull away. “So no—you do not get to die. Our son needs a father.”
Another gunshot rang out.
I snatched the Glock from his weakening grip and peered carefully around the edge of our cover.
My training kicked in instinctively.
I scanned the shadows with cold precision—two men crouched behind the large metal doors on the left, and two more positioned on the upper balcony, partially hidden behind the rusted railings.
I pulled back quickly.
“There are only four of them,” I said, breathing hard. “We can take them out.”
Blood was now dripping steadily from Vincenzo’s wound onto the concrete floor.
He tried to snatch the gun from my hands, but I held on tightly.
“Elena... give it to me.” Vincenzo rasped.
“This is my fight. Let me die saving you—if that’s what it takes.”
“You still don’t get it, do you?” I snapped, refusing to let go.
“Your death doesn’t fix anything. It doesn’t profit me, and it sure as hell doesn’t profit our son. I need you alive, Vincenzo. I need you to suffer for every scar you put on me.”
Before he could argue, I risked everything.
I peeked around the edge of the crates and calculated the angles in a heartbeat.
The two men crouched behind the large metal doors on the left were exposed from this side.
In one fluid motion, I rolled out of cover, aimed, and fired twice in rapid succession.
Both shots hit true.
The men dropped instantly.
But the other two on the upper balcony had already spotted me.
They opened fire sporadically, bullets chewing into the concrete around me.
I was completely exposed.
A bullet whizzed past my neck—so close I felt the hot sting as it grazed the skin, missing my artery by less than an inch.
Suddenly, a heavy body slammed into me, driving me to the ground and covering me completely.
Vincenzo’s frame pressed me down protectively as bullets continued to rain.
I felt the sickening impacts as rounds tore into his flesh, one after another.
I struggled beneath him, trying to push him off, but he was dead weight, as if he had already accepted this as the end.
“No!” I screamed.
When the gunfire finally paused, I shoved him off me with all the strength I had left and rolled to the side.