Chapter 24
Twenty-Four
F allon
Three weeks later
The mornings have become unbearable. Each day begins the same way: a rush of nausea that leaves me clinging to the edge of the toilet bowl, my body convulsing as I empty what little I have in my stomach. This isn’t normal, even for the stress I’d been under. But deep down, I know the truth, a truth I am not sure I want to face. The signs are there—my missed period, the ache in my breasts, the overwhelming exhaustion that seems to seep into my bones.
I’m pregnant.
The realization has come slowly, creeping in on me like a shadow. And as much as I try to push it away, to deny what I know is happening inside of me, it becomes impossible to ignore. A part of me is terrified; the idea of bringing a child into this violent world, into a life controlled by Leone and his ruthless empire, is more than I can bear. Yet another part of me—one I barely acknowledge—feels a flicker of something else. Hope, maybe. A strange sense of purpose.
But I can’t tell Leone. Not yet. The first weeks of pregnancy are the most uncertain, and I need time to think to prepare myself for what this will mean. I need to keep it to myself for now until I am sure. I hate to think of getting his hopes up only to squash them, or he thinks I jeopardized the pregnancy if I miscarry.
When Maria knocks on the bathroom door, her voice is laced with concern; I force myself to stand. “Fallon, are you okay? You’ve been so sick lately.”
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “I think it’s just a virus. It’s nothing to worry about.”
She pushes the door open, and Maria’s eyes narrow with skepticism, but she doesn’t press me. “If you’re not feeling better soon, you should see a doctor.”
That’s when an idea strikes me. I could see a doctor under the pretense of checking for a virus. It would give me the chance to confirm the pregnancy without raising suspicion, and I could have time to plan my next move. Leone knows I have been sick and, thankfully, hasn’t put it together as to why since he’s had the constant distraction from the Russians and his father. Something is going on; after Leone rejected what the Russians asked, they’ve had constant issues. Leone hasn’t been able to get any shipments in or out, each one intervened. I know he believes someone on the inside is helping them.
Later that day, when I approach Leone in the office downstairs, I’m careful with my words. He looks up as I enter, shutting his laptop.
“What’s wrong? I haven’t got time for tantrums today, Fallon. I will see if Rocco can take you to see Emma tomorrow,” he says flatly, opening an envelope and pulling out some papers.
“No, it’s not that,” I begin, keeping my tone casual. “I think I might have picked up something—maybe a virus. I want to see if I can see Dr. Stevens to get a script.”
Leone looks up from the stack of papers he is reviewing, his brow furrowing slightly. “A doctor? You still feel sick?”
I chew my lip nervously.
He studies me for a moment, his eyes searching mine as if trying to discern the real reason behind my request. I hold my breath, waiting for his response, knowing without his approval, I am not leaving this place.
Finally, he nods. “Alright. I’ll have Milo take you.”
Relief floods through me, though I keep my expression neutral. “No, it will have to be Rocco; Milo is helping my father run the casino while I try to figure out this mess. I will have Rocco call Dr. Stevens.”
Rocco doesn’t question Leone’s decision to have him accompany me, nor does he pry into my symptoms. For that, I’m grateful. The last thing I need is more questions.
We arrive at the hospital, and I learn Dr. Stevens has his own private practice inside the hospital. The waiting room is quiet, with only a few other patients. Rocco stays close, his presence a mix of casual ease and quiet vigilance, but he barely says anything to me on the drive, so I know he is still upset about Sienna.
“I’ll wait here,” he says as I stand to follow the nurse. “But if you need anything, just call out.”
I nod, offering him a small smile and quickly following the nurse into the examination room. Dr. Stevens greets me warmly.
“So, Fallon, what brings you in today? Leone said you’ve been sick and wants me to report back to him,” he asks, taking a seat behind his desk.
“I’ve been feeling unwell,” I explain, keeping my tone even. “Nausea, fatigue… It feels like it might be a virus.”
Dr. Stevens nods, jotting down notes on his clipboard. “We’ll run some tests, just to be sure. I’ll take a blood sample and check for any infections.”
“Anything else I should be looking out for?” he asks, giving me a knowing look.
“You have to report back to Leone?” I ask, though I should have assumed.
“I do, but depends on what you don’t want him knowing,” he tells me. I glance at the door, wondering if I should try to get a pregnancy test, but if I ask Rocco to take me to a store, he will question why.
“When was your last period, Fallon?” Dr. Stevens asks. “Leone knows, doesn’t he?” Dr. Stevens sits back in his chair. “He noticed you’re late. Why wouldn’t you want him to know?”
“It’s not that I don’t want him to know, but I would be early if I am and the first 12 weeks…” I pause. “If I miscarry, I don’t want him thinking I did anything to cause it, especially after Lydia,” I admit.
“Would you want to continue a pregnancy?” Dr. Stevens asks which I find odd.
“I just don’t want to get his hopes up if something goes wrong. I know what I signed up for,” I tell him.
“That’s not what I asked, Fallon. I want to know if you would want to continue the pregnancy?”
I pinch my brows together at his question as I mull over what he said. “I… I didn’t before, but…”
“But what?” Dr. Stevens asks.
“I don’t not want a baby, I just hoped I had more time; maybe better timing. Leone has a lot going on currently with the club…”
“Anything else?”
I chew my lip, but one of the reasons I have avoided saying anything to Leone is because of Milo.
“You can tell me, Fallon,” Dr. Stevens says.
“I doubt you’re offering client confidentiality,” I laugh, and he does, too.
“Those rules don’t apply to you, especially with Leone,” he admits, so I know he will report everything I say back to Leone.
“Now I don’t want to say,” I admit.
“You’re safe here.”
“But I have to go home, and you’ll report back to him,” I deadpan. He shrugs, and I sigh.
“What if he doesn’t let Milo…” I stumble over the words. It is such a bizarre scenario to wrap your head around.
“You’re worried about Milo; I am fully aware of the throuple you three have going on. Are you worried Milo will be upset you are carrying Leone’s child when he can’t have one?”
“No, Milo isn’t like that.” Dr. Stevens watches me. “What if Leone won’t allow him to be with us?”
Suddenly, Leone’s voice sounds through the speaker on his desk, making me jump.
“That won’t happen. I won’t take Milo from you,” he says, and I glare at Dr. Stevens.
“I did say nothing between us would be private,” he says, looking at me apologetically.
“I knew there was a reason you wanted to go to the doctor,” Leone adds.
“You were listening the entire time?” I lean forward and snap at him on the phone.
“Of course,” Leone answers, and I sigh.
“Next time, ask; I know I’ve been busy, but you also know I want this Fallon. Though I am glad you’ve come around to having a baby,”
“I might not be, and it’s too early for guarantees if I am, Leone,” I tell him.
“I am fully aware of that, Cara. Just don’t hide things from me. Let Dr. Stevens run his tests, I will see you at home.” He hangs up and Dr. Stevens nods and gets up.
I sit quietly as he draws my blood, my heart pounding in my chest. This is it—the moment that will confirm what I already know. As he labels the vial and sets it aside, I fight to keep my emotions in check.
“I’ll put a rush on the blood work,” Dr. Stevens assures me. “We should have the results back within the next day or so. Meanwhile, try to rest and stay hydrated.”
I thank him, and leave the examination room, my mind racing. When I return to the waiting area, Rocco peers up, his expression curious but not overly concerned.
“All set?” he asks as I approach.
“Yes,” I reply, forcing a smile. “Dr. Stevens is running some tests. He’ll let Leone know if it’s anything serious.”
Rocco nods, satisfied with the answer. As we leave the clinic and head back to the car, I can’t help but feel the weight of everything. If the test confirms what I suspect, everything will change.
As the car rolls down the familiar streets, I move my hand instinctively to rest on my stomach. No matter what happens, I will protect this child. Even if it means walking a tightrope between two powerful men and the dangerous world they inhabit.
The next day, when Dr. Stevens calls with the results, I’m alone in my room. My hand trembles as I answer the phone, my heart racing.
“Fallon.” Dr. Stevens’ voice is calm but firm. “I’ve reviewed your blood work. Congratulations, you’re pregnant.”
The confirmation hits me like a wave, both terrifying and exhilarating.
“Have you told Leone yet?”
“I figured I would let you. I will give him a call tomorrow and check you have, but I figured I would give you a chance to,” he tells me, and I thank him, my voice barely above a whisper, before ending the call.
I am pregnant.
My hand shakes as I set the phone back in its cradle, the weight of Dr. Stevens’ words settling heavily in my chest. Pregnant. I’m pregnant. The reality of it still feels surreal, even though I’ve been suspecting it for weeks.
I press a hand to my belly, my fingers trembling as I try to process it. A part of me already knew, but hearing it confirmed feels different. It feels real. My chest tightens, my thoughts spiraling in every direction. This changes everything. I need to tell them, yet part of me worries how Milo will take the news, although I know that is me being irrational.
But either way Leone needs to know.
And I am not sure how long I can keep the news to myself and a phone call seems impersonal. I want to see how he’ll react, I can't see that over the phone. I need to know whether his dark world will make space for something as fragile and pure as this. But there’s no way to know until I tell him. And I want to tell him in person.
I get to my feet, moving quickly. Leone is at work with Milo, so I know where to find him. I just need to convince someone to drive me there. As I step into the main hall, I catch sight of Rocco standing by the window, his gaze distant.
“Rocco,” I call softly, and he turns, his broad shoulders stiffening like I’ve caught him off guard.
“Fallon,” he says, nodding in acknowledgment. His tone is clipped, as usual, but there’s no malice in it. I've noticed the coldness in him since Sienna was taken by her father, something went on between them. It had to have, because he has been acting strange ever since.
“Can you take me to see Leone?” I ask. My voice is calm, but my hands are clasped in front of me, betraying my nerves.
He frowns slightly, his gaze narrowing as he studies me. “Why?”
“I need to talk to him,” I say.
“About?” he questions and I chew my lip.
“Dr. Stevens called,” I answer, avoiding the question. I’m not ready to tell anyone else yet.
“Just take her Rocco,” Maria chimes in making me jump. I hadn't even noticed she was in the room but as I turn to look at her, I see she has been dusting by the feather duster clasped in her hands.
“Go, I am sick of you moping around the house. You've been staring out that window for the past hour.” Rocco's brows furrow and he glances at his watch and sighs. “Fresh air will do you some good, go.” Maria tells him.
For a moment, Rocco hesitates, like he’s weighing the risks of taking me out of the house. Then he exhales sharply, jerking his head toward the door. “Fine, but I better not get in trouble for this. Leone has been more paranoid lately.” I nod.
“He won't be angry, I promise.”
Rocco presses his lips in a line. “Let’s go.”
Excitement has me rushing to grab my coat and Maria waves as I rush to follow him outside. The crisp morning air bites at my skin as Rocco hits the fob on his keys. The car makes a loud beep noise and he opens the back door for me.
“Quick before I change my mind,” Rocco tells me and I quickly climb inside.
The drive to the casino is quiet at first. I keep my eyes on the passing scenery, my thoughts racing ahead to what I’m going to say to Leone. But as the silence stretches, my curiosity about Sienna and what is going on with Rocco creeps in.
Rocco is the only one who might tell me something, every time I have mentioned her to Leone. He tells me it's not his business to pry but I can tell he is worried about Rocco.
“Rocco,” I begin hesitantly, glancing at his profile. His jaw is tight, his hands gripping the steering wheel like he’s trying to crush it. “Have you heard from Sienna?”
For a moment, I think he’s going to ignore me. Finally, he answers, his tone flat and unreadable. “No.”
That single word hits me harder than I expect. I want to ask more—to push for details, to understand why she hasn’t contacted anyone, or if she’s safe—but the tension rolling off Rocco is enough to warn me away from the subject. Not that he would hurt me, but I can tell he doesn’t want to talk about it.
The rest of the drive is spent in heavy silence. I stare out the window, trying to focus on Leone and the news I’m about to share with him.
When we pull up to the casino, Rocco doesn’t say a word as he parks the car. He gets out first, opening my door and glancing around like he’s checking for threats. I move to walk inside but his hand on my arm drags me back to him. We enter through the staff entrance foyer so I am not sure what he is worried about because only staff have access to this area and the lifts here. He uses his swipe card to use the lifts and we step in. I press the button before he has a chance and he looks at me.
“You seem…excitable,” he comments and I nod, but am glad to see his mood has changed slightly. His eyes crinkle in the corners, his lips quirking in the corners. “What did Dr. Stevens want?” he questions a knowing smile tugging at his lips. I say nothing, I don't have too. I swear everyone in the house is tracking my damn period so they all know I haven't had them.
When the elevator doors open we step out into the VIP section upstairs. Rocco leads me through the corridors to Leone's office door.
“You need me to come inside?” he asks, his tone a little softer now.
“No, I’ll be fine,” I reply. He nods, stepping closer, his hands grip my arms.
“This is good news,” he tells me and I smile. “Congratulations, now go tell your husband,” he chuckles before shocking me and kissing my forehead. He steps back and gives me a curt nod but doesn’t leave until I’m opening the office door. “Go, Leone will call me when you're ready to leave.” stepping inside, I turn to see Rocco move down the corridor.
The air inside Leone's office is warm and tinged with the faint smell of cigarette smoke. He is sitting behind his desk, leaning back in his chair with his phone pressed to his ear.
Just seeing him fills me with a strange sense of calm. He’s dressed in one of his dark suits, his tie loosened slightly, his expression focused and serious as he speaks. Even in the middle of work, he has this commanding presence that pulls all the air from the room.
He notices me almost immediately, his sharp eyes flicking to the door. The moment they land on me, his expression softens, and he holds up a hand, signaling for me to wait a moment.
“I’ll call you back,” he says into the phone, his voice firm. He hangs up and rises from his chair, his lips curving into a small smile as he moves around the desk toward me.
“Fallon,” he says, his tone shifting to something warmer. “What are you doing here?”
I step further inside, closing the door behind me. My nerves flutter, but I push them down as I cross the room to him.
“I missed you,” I say softly, letting my coat slip from my shoulders and I shrug it off tossing it on the couch in the corner.
Leone’s brow lifts slightly, but his smile widens as I step closer. “You missed me?” he teases, his voice low and rich. “Where's Rocco?” he asks.
“Went downstairs after dropping me here.” Leone's phone rings, and he groans and moves to see who it is. I follow him only to see him reject the call. He turns back to me, but I place my hands on his chest. His warmth seeps through the fabric of his shirt as I slide my arms around his neck.
“Did something happen at home?” he asks. I shake my head. Before he can say anything else, I push him gently back into his chair and climb onto his lap, straddling him. He lets out a low chuckle, his hands coming to rest on my hips. “Maybe I just missed you.”
“Well,” he murmurs, his eyes scanning my face like he’s trying to read my mind. “I’m not complaining.”
"But," He pauses, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on my waist and slipping under my blouse. “You didn't just come here simply because you missed me, did you? You want something, what is it?” His eyes search my face with a playful curiosity.
“Just to see you,” I lie, unable to keep the smile from my face as my hands move the buttons of his shirt. He watches as I undo each one, his hands moving to squeeze my ass beneath my skirt.
Leone's gaze lingers on me, his bright eyes burning with a mix of curiosity and desire. “You're a terrible liar.” I can feel his hands on my waist, calloused and rough, yet gentle as they trace patterns on my sensitive skin. My heart races in anticipation, my pussy already growing wet with need.
I lean in closer, my lips brushing against his ear as I whisper, “Maybe I just wanted to ride your cock, Leone.”
His breath hitches in surprise, but I can feel his cock twitching beneath me, already hard and ready. I rock my hips against him, grinding down on his length as he groans low in his throat.
“I like the sound of that,” he grins, his hands moving up to unbutton my blouse and reveal the lace bra underneath. His touch is confident and assertive as he pops open the front clasp, and my breasts spill out for him to admire. His gaze darkens, his hands cupping them gently before his thumbs swipe over my nipples - already hard and pebbled from the chill of the AC in the room. His touch sends a shiver down my spine, the sensation igniting a fire in my belly.
“Fuck,” he murmurs hoarsely. “You're so beautiful.” I can feel his cock straining against his pants, an insistent pressure against my core that demands attention.
I grind down on him again, reveling in the gasp that escapes from his lips. With deliberate slowness, I stand up from his lap and he watches me like a hawk as I unzip my skirt and step out of it. Left in nothing but my panties, I see his eyes travel down my body - lingering at places where he had left marks just nights ago.
With a wicked smile playing on his lips, he stands and unbuttons his pants - dropping them along with his boxers. His cock springs free, hard and eager. He watches me intently as he backs me up against his desk, pushing me back on it and I wriggle up further while he watches. He palms his cock, and I spread my legs for him.
“I am supposed to be working,” he tells me. “But since you seem so eager to distract me…” He doesn't need to finish the sentence, his actions speaking louder than any words ever could.
His warm hands move along my thighs as he grips my underwear, removing them before spreading my legs wider as he positions himself at my entrance. A gasp escapes my lips as I feel his tip press against me. He hesitates for a moment. “I know you’re hiding something.” With a quick thrust, he sinks into me, filling me to the hilt. I let out a soft cry at the suddenness of it, my fingers clutching at the edges of the desk for stability.
“I guess I will just have to fuck the answer out of you.” He starts to move, his hips thrusting against me in a steady rhythm that makes my whole body tremble with pleasure. My pussy is dripping wet, ready for him to fuck the answer out of me.
I'm pregnant, and I need to tell him, but first, I want to feel him inside me, filling me up and making me scream. Only every time I am close to that edge, he slows, drawing me back from the precipice, teasing me as he eases in and out of me slowly. The slow, torturous strokes make my head spin with anticipation, my body craving the thrill of release.
“Tell me,” he grunts, his thrusts quickening in intensity once more. “Tell me what you're hiding.”
His hand moves down to my clit, his fingers working circles around it while his cock continues stroking inside me. The dual sensation is unbearable as I arch my back off the desk, moaning uncontrollably when he slows again.
I groan in frustration when he leans over me, his hands gripping my wrists. “Tell me,” he says, and I hear his impatience growing thinner in his voice, his grip on my wrists tighter but not hurting as his lips capture mine, his tongue delving into my mouth so forcefully like he can find what I am hiding.
“You will tell me or…” his lips travel along my jaw, and then his teeth graze my neck as he continues his descent.
“I'm pregnant.”
He goes still inside me for a moment and pulls back to look at me. His stormy eyes meet mine as if searching for any trace of dishonesty but what he finds there is only love and a genuine concern for his reaction.
“I'm pregnant,” I repeat, my voice barely above a whisper.
His grip on my wrists loosens as he processes my words, his eyes softening with a mix of emotions - surprise, joy, and a hint of worry. “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Yes, Dr. Stevens called me. I was going to tell you, but I wanted to see you first,” I explain, my voice trembling slightly as I await his reaction.
“You’re pregnant…” he smiles as he leans back in, capturing my lips in a gentle kiss. His hands are no longer holding me down but instead are cradling my face. “I love you,” he whispers against my lips.
“I love you too,” I whisper back, only for his lips to mold around mine, and he groans lewdly when his arm slips underneath me, pulling me up. I wrap my legs around his waist; he moves us to the small couch in his office, and sits on it with me, straddling him. He breaks the kiss, looking at me.
“We're going to be parents,” he says absently. I rock my hips against him, and he groans as I lift myself up his length, only to sink back down on him.
“Yes, now finish what I started,” I tell him and he grins wickedly.
Two weeks Later
The house is quiet when I get back home, my arms weighed down with shopping bags filled with tiny clothes, soft blankets, and little stuffed animals. The thought of starting the nursery with Leone and Milo has been a small light in the storm of everything else, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I’ve felt a sliver of peace.
I set the bags down carefully in the hallway, pausing to press a hand to my nonexistent belly. There’s a flutter of excitement—a strange, tentative warmth that catches me off guard every time. I try to imagine the nursery filled with life, with giggles and late-night rocking chair whispers, but the thought feels almost too fragile to hold onto.
Before I can let my mind wander too far, my phone rings, breaking the silence. I dig it out of my coat pocket, my lips curving into a smile when I see Leone’s name on the screen.
“Leone,” I answer, warmth flooding my voice.
“Fallon,” he says, his tone light but with that edge of protectiveness he can never fully turn off. “Did you make it home?”
“I just walked in,” I say, glancing at the shopping bags by my feet. “You should see what I bought. I think I might’ve gone overboard.”
“You? Overboard?” he teases, and I can hear the faint humor in his voice, the way he always seems calmer when we talk. “If it's a flat pack forget it, Milo or Rocco will have to do it, the last one did my head in.” He laughs.
“I told you to read the instructions,” I laugh softly, brushing a hand through my hair. “But no it's nothing you need to build.” He lets out a sigh. “I got clothes and some linens. I wanted to make sure everything was perfect before we started setting up.”
“Well, Milo and I are supposed to finish up here soon and we'll be home to help,” he says, his tone softening. “We are bringing you home a surprise.”
“What sort of surprise?” I ask.
“How's my little firefly,” I hear my father’s voice and I gasp.
“Damn it Nathan, you ruined it.”
“She hates surprises,” I hear my father say and I laugh.
“Dad?” I chuckle when I hear a noise outside, Rocco coming into the room glances at the window and moves toward it.
“Right here, I'll be bringing Emma with me.” I can't help but grin hearing that. I haven't seen her since the hospital, though Leone has allowed me a phone so I speak to her almost every day. Rocco steps out onto the balcony and I watch him disappear.
But before I can reply to my father, another noise catches my attention, a loud bang that makes me jump along with Maria's scream downstairs. My head snaps toward the bedroom door, my pulse quickening and Rocco rushes inside.
“Fallon?” Leone’s voice sharpens instantly, every trace of humor gone. “What’s wrong? What was that bang?”
“It sounded like the front door…” I trail off, stepping toward the hallway. “Maria?” I call out. Rocco jerks me back and presses a finger to his lips, slipping out the door.
“Who’s there?” Leone's tone is tense now, clipped.
“I don’t know,” I whisper, trying to peer around the corner without making a sound. “Rocco’s gone to check.” The sound of voices catches my attention as I sneak down the hall. I don’t recognize the words, though I have picked up a bit of Italian hearing it spoken so frequently.
Maria's voice grows louder yelling in Italian. My heart skips a beat, and I instinctively turn toward the stairs, the phone still pressed to my ear.
“Who’s she yelling at?” Leone asks, his tone immediately shifting from joy to concern.
“I don’t know,” I whisper, straining to hear. I can hear Leone’s breathing quicken on the other end of the line and hear my father and Milo in the background. “Fallon, stay on the phone with me. Don’t hang up. They aren’t speaking Italian; it’s not my men.”
“Okay,” I whisper, my voice shaky. I move down the steps and peek around the corner, trying to get a glimpse of who has just entered the house.
“Who the fuck are you?” Rocco’s voice suddenly booms from the front of the house, followed by a string of Italian curses. My heart lurches, and I grip the phone tighter, dread settling in the pit of my stomach.
“Fallon, who is it? What’s going on?” Leone’s voice is urgent now, bordering on panic.
“I don’t know,” I say, my breath catching in my throat. “I’m going to check, just hold on?—”
But before I can finish my sentence, a gunshot rings out, echoing through the house, sending my stomach plummeting. The sound paralyzes me, fear seizing my entire body. Leone’s frantic voice crackles through the receiver, but I can barely hear him over the pounding of my own heart.
“Fallon! Fallon, get out of there! Run, now!” Leone’s voice is loud and desperate, but I can’t seem to move, my feet rooted to the spot in terror.
Suddenly, the kitchen door bursts open, and two men rush in from behind me. They’re tall and broad-shouldered, with hard faces and cold eyes. The first man has a shaved head and a jagged scar running down the side of his face, while the second has a thick beard and a tattoo snaking up his neck.
They speak rapidly in Russian, their words sharp and menacing.
“Не пытайся убежать, девочка,” (Don’t try to run, little girl) the bearded man growls, his eyes narrowing as they lock onto me. “Не заставляй нас причинять тебе боль.” (Don’t make us hurt you.)
Panic surges through me, and I turn to flee, but it’s too late. The man with the scar moves quickly, grabbing me roughly by the arm. He grabs my phone, and smashes it. His grip is like iron, his fingers digging painfully into my skin as he hauls me toward the front door.
“Держи её крепко, она не должна сбежать!” (Hold her tighter, she must not escape!) the scarred man orders, his voice cold and commanding.
The bearded man leans in closer, his breath hot against my ear. I thrash trying to escape them, kicking and throwing my body trying to escape their grip.
“Ты думаешь, ты можешь убежать от нас?” (You think you can run from us?) he sneers, his grip tightening as I struggle against them. I cry out, fear twisting in my gut as they drag me toward the front of the house. The realization there’s no escape crashes over me, and I can only hope Leone and Milo will get here before it’s too late.
As they drag me through the hallway, Maria is frantically yelling trying to get past the other two men, tears trekking down her face. The moment she sees us, her eyes widen in horror.
“Chi siete? Cosa state facendo?” (Who are you? What are you doing?) she screams, her voice shaking as she rushes toward me.
The men shout back at her in Russian, their voices sharp and threatening. I can’t understand their words, but their intent is clear. Maria freezes, her hands trembling as one of the men points his gun at her. She starts frantically pleading in Italian, her words a desperate attempt to calm the situation.
“Per favore, non fatelo! Non farle del male!” (Please, don’t do this! Don’t hurt her!) Maria cries, her voice cracking with fear.
“Run, Maria! Just run!” I beg, my voice breaking as I struggle against the men holding me. But Maria doesn’t move. She’s paralyzed, her eyes darting between me and the gun aimed at her.
One of the men barks another command in Russian, his patience wearing thin. Maria, still pleading, starts to back away slowly, tears streaming down her face.
“Non posso lasciarti, Fallon!” she wails, but at that time, I only recognized my name, but the men didn’t care. They drag me toward the door, ignoring her pleas. As they force me outside, I catch a glimpse of Rocco lying on the ground near the entryway, blood pooling beneath him from a gunshot wound to the chest. My stomach churns at the sight, and I feel bile rise in my throat.
“Maria, stay back!” I scream, but it’s too late. The men shove me into the back seat of a waiting car, slamming the door shut behind me. I pound on the window, trying to get out, but the child locks are on, trapping me inside. Maria rushes to Rocco, flipping him over and shaking him, wailing loudly.
The car speeds off, and I’m thrown against the door, my heart racing as I watch the mansion fade into the distance. My mind is in a frenzy, fear clawing at my insides as I try to make sense of what’s happening.
As we approach the gates, the car slows down, and another car pulls up beside us and I see two guards dead on the ground at the gates. The window of the other car rolls down, and my blood runs cold when I see who’s inside.
Dante.
He smirks at me from the driver’s seat, his eyes gleaming with a mix of satisfaction and malice. The horrid scars Leone gave him crinkling as he smiles. My mind races, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing. Dante… he’s betrayed us. He’s working with the Russians.
“Dante!” I scream, thrashing in the back seat, but the man beside me grabs me, his grip ironclad as he pins me to the seat.
The cars pass by each other slowly, Dante’s smirk widening as he observes the chaos he’s created. I can’t believe this is happening. Dante—Leone’s own brother is working with the Russians.
The car suddenly jerks forward, speeding up as it leaves the estate behind. Desperation fuels my movements, and I thrash harder, using all my strength to break free from the man’s hold.
I manage to land a hard elbow to his face, and he grunts in pain, loosening his grip just enough for me to lunge for the passenger door; I grip the handle. The car swerves as the driver tries to keep control and slow the car to a stop, cursing in Russian as he tries to grab me. I push the door open and throw myself out of the moving vehicle.
The impact with the ground knocks the wind out of me, but I scramble to my feet, adrenaline pumping through my veins as I start to run. I can hear the men shouting behind me, their footsteps pounding against the dirt as they give chase.
But I don’t look back. I run as fast as I can, my lungs burning with every breath as I push myself to keep going. I can see the trees ahead, a chance to lose them in the woods if I can just make it that far.
But they’re faster. They catch up to me, tackling me to the ground with brutal force. I cry out as my body hits the dirt, pain radiating through me as they drag me back to the car.
“Ты никуда не денешься!” one of them growls, his voice filled with anger as he grabs me, and I thrash.
“English, asshole!” I screech at him.
“I said. You’re not going anywhere!” he shoves me back into the car.
This time, they don’t take any chances. They toss me into the trunk, slamming it shut and plunging me into darkness. My heart races as I bang on the inside, screaming for help, but my cries are muffled by the thick metal surrounding me.
I’m trapped, alone in the darkness, with no idea where they’re taking me or what they plan to do.
The car jerks into motion, each bump and sway of the vehicle jarring me within the confines of the trunk. My mind races. Time stretches out, each minute feeling like a lifetime filled with darkness. But I can’t afford to lose myself in a panic attack. I need to focus and think. But that is easier said than done because no matter how much I try, all I can think of is that I can’t see.
The car jerks into motion, jostling me around the cramped space. It’s pitch black, and the stifling air reeks of rubber and gasoline. I press my palms against the trunk lid, testing for any give. Nothing.
I know I can’t overpower them; they are men built like tanks. My hands brush against something hard and metallic – a tire iron. I grip it tightly, feeling a surge of hope. It’s small, but it’s better than nothing.
When the car swerves harshly, I brace myself against the sides of the trunk, my knuckles turning white as I grip the iron. My mind races, thinking of possible escape routes and formulating plans.
Then the car stops. Doors slam shut, and there’s a moment of eerie silence when the sound of footsteps approach. My heart hammers against my chest as I brace myself for whatever comes next.
The trunk opens abruptly, blinding light invading my makeshift prison. I squint trying to make out the figures looming over me.
“Well, now, aren’t you a feisty one?” a voice drawls. It sounds vaguely familiar. I’m blinded by the sudden light. I blink rapidly, trying to adjust, but the harsh glare of the sun only serves to intensify the pounding in my head.
A hand reaches in, snatching the iron from my hand and tossing it, they grab me roughly by the arm and haul me out of the trunk. I stumble as my feet hit the ground, and it takes a moment for me to steady myself.
When I finally manage to look up, my blood runs cold.
Mikhail.
He stands in front of me, a cruel smile on his face as he looks me over. His presence radiates power and danger, and I know I’m in more trouble than I ever could have imagined.
“Welcome to my home, Fallon,” Mikhail says, his voice smooth and mocking as he grips my chin, forcing me to peer up at him.
His grasp is icy, his fingers gripping my chin with a strength that borders on pain. I resist the urge to flinch, keeping my gaze steady as I meet his eyes.
Mikhail’s eyes glint with a sadistic pleasure as he watches the fear flicker across my face. He knows he has me exactly where he wants me—helpless, vulnerable, and far from anyone who could save me. His grip on my chin softens, but only enough to let his thumb trace a slow, deliberate path across my lips, a mocking parody of tenderness.
“You know, Fallon,” he begins, his voice dropping to a low murmur that sends a shiver of dread down my spine, “Leone made a grave mistake. He thought he could defy me, thought he could reject the deal I so graciously offered him. I was willing to leave the past in the past, start fresh. All he had to do was step back, let me handle the Mexicans, and keep his precious little territory intact. But no… your dear husband thinks he’s invincible.”
I swallow hard, forcing myself to maintain eye contact despite the terror clawing at my insides. “You think taking me will make him give you whatever it is you want?”
Mikhail’s smile widens, his teeth flashing in the harsh sunlight. “Oh, I don’t just think it, Fallon. I know it.” His fingers slide down my throat, lingering at the pulse point where my heartbeat races beneath the skin. “Leone cares more about you than he’d ever admit, even to himself. He’s desperate to hold on to what’s his—his territory, his power, and most of all, you.”
He releases my throat, only to step closer, his face inches from mine as he leans in, his breath hot against my ear. “But he made a mistake. He underestimated just how far I’m willing to go to bring him to his knees. And you, my dear, are the key to that.”
Mikhail pulls back slightly, his gaze boring into mine with a malevolent intensity. “You see, when Leone realizes you’re gone, and he starts to piece together who has you… he’ll break. And then, when I’m done with you, I’ll send him what’s left of you, piece by piece, until he’s nothing but a shattered shell of the man he once was.”
My breath catches in my throat, horror washing over me in waves. The full extent of Mikhail’s cruelty, his meticulously crafted plan, becomes terrifyingly clear. This isn’t just about power or territory; it’s about destroying Leone from the inside out, using me as the weapon to do it.
“You’re sick,” I spit, my voice shaking with a mixture of anger and fear. “Leone will never give in to you. He’ll hunt you down, no matter how long it takes. He’ll?—”
Mikhail’s cruel smile doesn’t waver as he looms over me. His gaze is sharp as a blade. My head throbs, but I force myself to stare up at him, my mind reeling. I need to know why he’s doing this. I need to understand what kind of sick game he’s playing.
“Why?” I croak out; my voice is weak but defiant. “Why are you doing this?”
For a moment, Mikhail just stares at me, his eyes narrowing as if considering whether or not to indulge my question. Then, he chuckles—a dark, bitter sound.
“Why?” he repeats, his voice dripping with mockery. “Why not? Leone has a bad habit of taking from me, Fallon. And now, I’m simply returning the favor.”
I blink up at him, confusion clouding my thoughts. “Taking from you? I don’t understand…”
Mikhail’s expression hardens, his smile fading as his eyes grow colder. He leans down, his face inches from mine, his breath hot against my skin. “Of course, you don’t understand. How could you? Leone never told you, did he? He never told you about Lydia.”
The name falls from his lips like a curse, and I feel a jolt of fear shoot through me. “Lydia?” I echo, my mind scrambling to make sense of his words. “His ex-wife?” I ask him.
Mikhail’s smile returns, but this time, it’s tinged with something darker, something far more dangerous. “Lydia was my sister. My baby sister. She was everything to me, and Leone took her from me.”
My breath catches in my throat. Lydia. Leone’s first wife.
“What? What do you mean?” I stammer, my voice trembling. “Leone loved Lydia. He?—”
“Loved her?” Mikhail interrupts, his voice rising with anger. “Loved her? He didn’t love her, Fallon. He destroyed her. He got her hooked on his drugs, made her dependent on him, and then when she was no longer of use to him, he killed her.”
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head in disbelief. “She betrayed him. Leone wouldn’t kill her for no?—”
Mikhail’s laughter cuts me off, sharp and cruel. “You really are naive, aren’t you? Leone didn’t care about Lydia. She was just another piece in his game, another pawn to be used and discarded when she no longer served a purpose.”
Tears sting my eyes as I struggle to process what he’s telling me. Lydia. Leone’s first wife. She was Mikhail’s sister? No, it can’t be true. But the look in Mikhail’s eyes, the sheer hatred that burns there, tells me he believes every word he’s saying.
“He promised me,” Mikhail continues, his voice low and venomous. “He promised he would love her, that he would treat her right. But instead, he took her from me. He took my baby sister, my blood, and now… now I’m going to take everything from him.”
My heart pounds in my chest as his words sink in. This isn’t just about power or territory; this is personal. Mikhail wants revenge, and he’s using me as the weapon to get it.
“No!” I cry out, trying to pull away from him, but his grip is unyielding.
“Leone should have taken the deal,” Mikhail continues, his voice eerily calm. “I would have been willing to negotiate, to leave the past in the past. But now? Now, it seems history is repeating itself. Leone took from me, and now I’m going to take everything from him.”
With that, Mikhail releases his hold on me, letting me fall to the ground. I gasp for air, my heart racing.
Mikhail looms over me once more, his shadow falling over my trembling form. “Leone will learn the consequences of his actions, Fallon. And you will be the one to deliver that message.”
He steps back, his eyes never leaving mine as he gestures to his men. “Take her inside,” he orders coldly. “Make sure she’s… comfortable. We have a lot of work to do.”
As the men move forward, grabbing me by the arms and hauling me to my feet, I realize with a sickening dread there’s no escape from this nightmare. I’m trapped at the mercy of a man hell-bent on destroying everything Leone holds dear.
As I struggle in the men’s grip, trying to process Mikhail’s chilling words, the door to the mansion swings open. I hear footsteps, light and hurried before I see her—Rebecca. My mother. She rushes out, her face a mask of horror as she takes in what’s going on.
“Fallon?” she breathes, her voice barely a whisper, her eyes wide with disbelief as they lock onto mine. She stumbles forward, her hands trembling as they rise to cover her mouth, her expression a mixture of shock and dread. The color drains from her face as she realizes where I am, who I am with, and what that means.
Mikhail notices her approach, and his gaze hardens. “Rebecca, go inside,” he commands, his voice cold and dismissive.
But she doesn’t move. Instead, she steps closer, her eyes darting between Mikhail and me. “That’s Leone’s wife,” she says, her voice trembling with fear and confusion. “Why is she here, Mikhail? What are you planning to do?”
Mikhail’s eyes narrow dangerously, a flicker of irritation crossing his features. “I said, go inside,” he repeats, his tone now edged with a dark warning.
Rebecca hesitates, her eyes pleading as she takes another step forward. “Please, Mikhail,” she implores, her voice breaking slightly. “This is not right. She is just a young girl?—”
Her words are cut off as Mikhail suddenly backhands her, the sound of the slap echoing through the still air. Rebecca staggers backward, her hand flying to her cheek as she gasps in pain and shock. Her eyes brim with tears as she stares up at Mikhail, her entire body trembling.
“You do not question me,” Mikhail growls, his voice a low snarl as he looms over her. “Get inside. Now.”
Rebecca’s gaze flickers to mine, a silent apology in her tear-filled eyes, then she quickly turns and hurries back into the mansion, clutching her injured cheek. She disappears behind the heavy door, the sound of it closing echoes like the final nail in a coffin.
I’m left on the ground, my heart pounding in my chest as Mikhail turns his attention back to me. The cruel smile returns to his face, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he watches me struggle to hold back my fear.