Chapter 31
GIOVANNI
Twenty-four fucking hours!
Twenty-four hours of silence and shadows that evaporate the moment I reach for them. Every second Liliana is gone carves deeper into me, but I cannot falter. I cannot allow despair to make me weak. Not when she is out there, somewhere, and every second counts.
I have called in every favor I know. From policemen to commissioners who owe me loyalty beyond the law, men in high places who would crumble rather than deny me, and those who owe my father debts written in blood and silence.
I have pulled every string, every hidden lever, tracked down every connection that reaches into the shadows.
And yet, until now, it has been nothing but silence. Nothing but the gnawing edge of fear and frustration. I have men everywhere, contacts in every corner, warehouses, safehouses, boats, and still, I cannot reach her.
While pacing my office just past midnight, my phone rings. It’s one of my father’s old men.
“I heard your wife was taken.” He says, cutting straight to the matter.
“Yes, and?”
“I have a lead.”
He claims to have friends and friends of friends deep inside Greco’s operations.
Someone who knows someone who knows someone with access to Greco’s hideouts and plans.
The word he's heard is that Greco is bragging about his plans to finally take over my organization falling into place.
My pulse spikes, a low growl rising in my chest. Every nerve sparking with the knowledge that after twenty-four hours of being blind, I finally see a light at the end of this hopeless tunnel.
Tomasso curses under his breath, tense yet ready. “It’s a trap. The bastard must have influenced the man to willingly let up his location. He knows we’ll come.”
“Then let him lay his traps,” I say, calm and controlled, but every syllable is a promise of violence. “I am the one who will be catching him off guard tonight.”
“What do you mean?” Tomasso asks suspiciously.
“I will be going alone.”
Dario glances at me from across the room. “Alone?”
“Yes,” I reply. “I’ll play into his hands. If Greco senses an attack, he will kill her without a second thought. So, I will go alone, but you and the rest of the men will trail loosely behind.”
Camilla finally speaks up, her voice sharp with reasoning. “What if he kills her the instant he sees you? After all, you are the one he is after.”
“That will not happen,” I growl. “Greco will want leverage. Something to make me want to co-operate.”
I take the coordinates the caller gave us, studying them like a map of my own heartbeat. I can picture her there, in some darkened room, maybe a basement, maybe an abandoned building.
The thought of her frightened, maybe hurt, the marks of fear or worse on her, drives my blood hotter, and yet my mind is ice. Every move has to be exact. Control is all that stands between me and failure.
“I know you have the location coordinates, but I will take a tracker.”
As I prepare to leave. I feel the weight of everything in my chest, the ache of the last twenty-four hours pressing down, but it is sharpened into determination. Despair is a tool, not a shackle. My grief fuels me, but it does not control me. I will not allow it.
Camilla comes to the doorway just as I make to step out. She doesn’t cross the threshold, just watches me pull on my jacket.
“You really love her,” she says quietly.
I glance up. Her voice holds no hint of the jealousy she once had when Liliana’s name came up.
“More than anything or any other human being,” I answer. “Fuck, more than life itself.”
She nods once. “Then make sure you come back with her.”
It’s the closest thing to approval she will give my marriage, and I take it for what it is.
Outside, the night air hits me, sharp and cold, a reminder that the universe waits for no one. Tomasso stands by the car, the tracker in hand, every line of his body tense with readiness. I meet his eyes. “You know when to move in.”
I climb into the car, and the engine roars to life, the city lights sliding past like a ribbon of inevitability. Every mile brings me closer to him. Closer to her. Closer to the reckoning I have been building in my mind since the second she was taken.
I can see it all: the building, dark, guarded, the shadows where he thinks he has power.
He has underestimated me, as all men do.
He believes that twenty-four hours of fear, of chasing shadows, of testing my control, has weakened me.
He is wrong. He has only made me sharper, faster, and more precise.
I carefully review the plan in my mind. Entry, position, extraction. Every threat considered, every angle scrutinized. I am ready for any contingency because she is worth every risk. Because she is everything, and this approach is the only way to ensure she makes it out alive.
I imagine her face when she sees me. The relief, trust, and recognition that, despite all the danger, I won't fail her or give up on her.
I feel the pulse of the city beneath the tires, the streets' rhythm matching my heartbeat.
The air is tense with anticipation, every breath measured, every thought focused.
Greco wants to control, to dominate, to prove he can break me.
But I am not broken. I am not bending. I am not afraid.
Twenty-four hours of silence have honed me into a weapon. Every sleepless minute, every moment of despair, every shred of worry has been forged into resolve. I am precise, calculated, unstoppable. The only outcome I accept is her safety.
As I approach the location, I see the shadows of men moving, they are strategically placed, but I am ready with a foolproof plan in place.
The building is nondescript, but I know better. Inside, she waits, and every second she remains in his hands is a second too long. I will not allow hesitation. I will not allow fear. Every ounce of pain, every hour of uncertainty, every minute of waiting has sharpened me for this.
The car stops, and I jump out without hesitation. Despair does not rule me. Rage does not rule me. Love, calculated and fierce, rules me.
I step forward, prepared to bring my wife home.