CHAPTER 23
Alessandro's POV
My arms stung like a bitch as I got dressed.
The injury from the shootout still throbbed beneath the fresh cast — a white reminder of how close I’d come to losing the arm altogether. It would stay like that for months, and the thought made me grind my teeth.
I stared at myself in the mirror, jaw locked, chest rising and falling with quiet rage.
What the fuck was I even doing with my life?
Every day I woke up to more blood, more orders, more power — and none of it felt like it meant anything anymore. I hated this work. But at the same time... I liked it. It gave me everything I ever wanted. Control. Fear. Respect.
Power was a drug, and I was addicted.
I glared at my reflection. For a second, I saw through the cracks — to the part of me I buried years ago. The part I swore I’d never acknowledge again.
Maybe I wanted something else. Maybe I wanted change.
And then — a thought slipped in.
Ariana came back just in time.
No.
No.
I shook it off violently, dragging my coat on before I could start questioning myself any further. There was work to handle, and I didn’t have the luxury of dwelling on ghosts.
I stepped out into the corridor — only to find Andrés rushing toward me.
“Abbiamo un visitatore al piano di sotto,” he said breathlessly. “You might want to see who we’ve got.”
My brow arched. “Andiamo.”
We descended the stairs together, and as soon as we reached the basement, the metallic scent of blood hit me. The air was thick with it.
A man sat strapped to a chair in the center of the room, surrounded by my men. His face was a swollen mess — bruises already blooming purple against his skin, sweat dripping from his hairline.
Salvatore noticed me and stepped back to make room.
“Who the fuck is he?” I asked.
“Luca Bianchi,” Salvatore replied. “Worked with Nicola.”
The name made my pulse slow, heavy.
I nodded, slipping my coat off and tossing it onto a nearby chair. “Alright.”
Then I raised a hand. “Ragazzi, stop.”
The room froze instantly. The rhythmic sounds of fists meeting flesh fell silent. I stepped closer until I stood right in front of the bastard.
He looked up at me, blood trickling from his split lip. Young. Small. Scared — though he was trying to hide it. His hair was a matted mess, and dark bruises had already formed around his eyes.
We’d been looking for him for weeks — one of Nicola’s old associates, running from someone who wanted him dead. My men had caught him just in time.
I expected fear. Maybe even begging.
But instead, the fucker laughed.
“What’s so funny, faccia di merda?” I demanded.
He kept laughing, head lolling forward before he lifted it again. His voice came out rough and accented.
“Just the fact that you’re all so fucking stupid,” he slurred. “Why am I even here, golova chlena?”
I glanced over my shoulder at Salvatore, who looked ready to explode, then at Bruno, who was trying not to laugh behind his hands.
I turned back and slapped Luca hard — once, twice, three times.
“Come on, ragazzo, you should know why you’re here.”
“I don’t,” he groaned. “Enlighten me.”
“Well,” I said, walking to the side table and picking up a pair of pliers, “you’re here because you decided to mess with the wrong people today.”
Luca’s eyes tracked the tool as I waved it in front of his face.
“I know who you are,” he said, voice low and defiant. “I’ve never associated with you.”
“Ah, but you have,” I replied. “Your fucking boss did. Nicola crossed me once, and I never got the chance to teach him his lesson.”
I grabbed Luca’s hand and pressed the pliers against his index nail, close enough to make him flinch.
He swallowed hard. “What my boss did has nothing to do with me,” he growled. “Nicola always did what he wanted — he didn’t ask us to get involved.”
Bruno chimed in from behind me. “Then what the fuck did you do for him?”
Luca hesitated. His lip trembled slightly before he answered.
“I only started working for Nicola after he was sent to jail,” he muttered. “My job was to look for someone. The day I visited him in his cell, he asked me to keep an eye on his fiancée — Ariana.”
Everything in me went still.
I looked sharply at Salvatore, then at Bruno. They both seemed to realize the weight of it at the same time I did.
If Nicola had people watching Ariana after he was imprisoned... then why the fuck wasn’t she with him?
“What happened next?” Bruno pressed.
Luca lifted his bruised face again. “All I know is that they weren’t together anymore by the time I started working for him.”
“What?” The word slipped out before I could stop it.
My chest tightened, but I forced myself to keep my expression cold.
She shouldn’t matter anymore. She shouldn’t still affect me.
But she did.
And that was exactly what terrified me most.
Luca began to laugh again — a slow, lazy laugh that didn’t match the tension in the room. He sighed and looked up at us, amusement gleaming in his bruised eyes.
“The fuckbrain was a woman beater,” he said casually. “Of course she’d leave him. Eventually.”
For a moment, the words didn’t even register. Then they did — and my stomach dropped.
Despite how hard I tried to stay detached from anything that concerned Ariana, the realization hit me like a punch to the chest. If Nicola had been a violent bastard... then Bruno’s earlier assumption was right. The attempted murder charge — it wasn’t random. It was her.
I glanced at Bruno. Disgust was etched all over his face.
“What the fuck,” Bruno muttered under his breath before stepping forward. “Where is he? Where can we find him?”
Luca only chuckled again, shaking his head. “You’re all fucking idiots,” he spat. “You can’t find Nicola anywhere — except his grave. The motherfucker’s dead. Died a few months ago.”
Silence settled.
I didn’t know what to believe — that Ariana’s fiancé was an abuser, or that he was already six feet under. My mind stuttered between the two, unable to keep up. Maybe Salvatore had been right all along; maybe I should’ve kept tabs on her when he’d told me to.
I stepped away, needing space, needing air. My brain couldn’t catch up with the mess of questions clawing through it. I needed confirmation — and the only person who could give me that was Ariana herself.
I turned to leave, already set on confronting her, but Salvatore’s hand clamped around my arm.
“She didn’t say anything to us,” he warned.
“Yeah,” I growled, “which is why I’m about to confront her right now.”
“No!” He yanked me back. “You are not doing such a thing! The povera ragazza can’t even stand still around you. You scare the life out of her. Cut her some slack, Alessandro.”
His words hit deeper than I expected.
He was right. Ever since Ariana had shown up, all I’d done was make her miserable — driven by anger I couldn’t explain and emotions I refused to acknowledge. I forced a breath, unclenched my fists, and pulled my arm free.
My shoulder ached, the cast on my arm throbbing, but it barely mattered now. I just wanted answers — about Nicola, about Ariana, about everything I’d missed.
“Look,” Salvatore said, his tone softening, “Bruno will speak to her. He’s the only one she’s comfortable with.”
He turned and motioned for Bruno to follow, and we headed out of the basement, the air heavy with tension.
We crossed through the main hall, out of the mansion, and into the evening chill. The sky was already dimming; streaks of burnt orange bled into the horizon as we approached the small house — Ariana’s hideout.
That’s when we spotted Mia walking up the path. My brows furrowed.
“Mia, what are you doing here? Where have you been all this time?” I demanded as we came to a stop near the front door. The house was dark — no lights, no movement. A bad sign.
“I’ve been in the mansion,” she answered quickly, not picking up on how tense we were.
Salvatore’s voice snapped like a whip. “If you’ve been in the mansion, then where the fuck is Ariana?”
Mia froze. Her face went pale.
She shook her head, panic flooding her features, and started toward the door — but I was faster. I shoved past her and burst inside.
If she wasn’t in there, my only chance at understanding any of this was gone.
We split up immediately, searching every room. The place wasn’t big — a cottage with maybe three rooms and a kitchen — but it felt empty, hollow.
“Ariana!” Mia’s voice cracked as she called out. “She... she said she wanted to be alone. Oh, God!”
Bruno cursed loudly. “Yeah, well, that doesn’t mean you let her!”
He rushed outside to search the grounds.
“Calm down,” I ordered, forcing myself to think. “Everyone just calm the fuck down.”
But even as I said it, my chest felt tight. I could already tell she was gone. The silence said it all.
“She must not have gone far,” I muttered. “There’s acres of land before the main road. It’s been a few hours, maybe less. If we move now, we can still catch her.”
We drove down the private road, headlights cutting through the dark. Salvatore was behind the wheel — my arm made driving impossible — while I sat in the passenger seat and Bruno rode in the back. Another car followed close behind, our men ready in case things went south.
The world outside was pitch black, the forest pressing close on either side.
“She wouldn’t get far,” Salvatore said under his breath.
Bruno leaned forward. “There! On the side road!”
My head snapped to where he pointed — and sure enough, a lone figure in white was walking along the shoulder of the road, her steps slow and unsteady.
It was too dark to make out her face, but my gut told me it was her.
Salvatore swerved sharply, turning onto the narrow road. The headlights flared across her back. She froze, then turned slightly, glancing over her shoulder as we rolled to a stop behind her.
For a few seconds, she didn’t move. Then her shoulders began to shake.
She was crying.
My hand went to the door handle, ready to get out — but before we could reach her, Ariana spun around.
And ran.
She ran like hell itself was chasing her, sprinting into the dark without looking back.
“Merda!” Bruno shouted.
Salvatore slammed the car into park, and I sat there, frozen, watching her vanish into the night — the white of her dress swallowed by the shadows.
And just like that... she was gone.
Too fast.
She ran until she could get away, and before we could reach her—it was too late.
Salvatore slammed the door open, shouting her name into the night, but the sound only echoed off the trees.
Bruno was already out, flashlight in hand, sweeping the darkness as his voice cracked with urgency.
I stayed frozen in my seat for a second longer, my mind refusing to register what just happened.
Then I was out of the car too, boots sinking into the damp soil. The cold bit at my skin, but the heat in my chest burned hotter. I couldn’t see her. Just the faint, ghostlike impression of her figure fading through the fog that clung to the ground.
“Ariana!” I shouted, my voice harsh, almost desperate. No answer. Only the low hum of crickets and the crunch of our footsteps through the undergrowth.
She was gone.
We spread out across the road and into the edge of the woods, flashlights cutting through the thick dark. My arm throbbed painfully, the cast a heavy reminder that I couldn’t even chase her properly. Every snap of a branch made me turn, hoping it was her. It never was.
“Over here!” Bruno yelled, and I ran toward him, half-expecting to see her collapsed on the ground, half-afraid I actually would. But there was nothing—just a discarded scarf tangled in the weeds, the one she always wore when she went walking with Mia.
I picked it up, my fingers tightening around the fabric. It was still warm.
“She couldn’t have gone far,” Salvatore said between breaths. “There’s nowhere to run, not out here.”
I didn’t answer him. My eyes stayed on the trees ahead, dark and endless, the wind whispering through them like it was mocking me.
All this time, I’d been trying to control her, avoid her, intimidate her into silence—and she’d done the one thing I never thought she would.
She ran from me.
And now, for the first time in years, I had no idea if I’d ever see her again.
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TO BE CONTINUED...