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I’m going to look for her and my husband can’t stop me. Two days is long enough. I have to do something.
I’m barely on the street before my new phone rings. I freeze, every nerve ending on edge. My heart hammers against my ribs as I answer. Only Alessandro has my number. Is he going to tell me to go back inside? Will this be our first proper fight? Because that’s not happening.
My hand trembles as I answer, already dreading the voice that will come from the other end. “Hello?”
“A pleasure to finally speak with you, Jess,” the anonymous voice is smooth, laced with malice that sends shivers down my spine. “I have your friend.”
“Who are you? What have you done with Emma?” My voice is a mix of fear and defiance.
He chuckles, a sound that makes my blood run cold. “Let’s just say, I’m someone who’s been deeply affected by your actions in France. You took something precious from me, Jess.
“My brother went to fetch you, and you decided his life was expendable. I decided to return the favor. Took a contract I would have ignored otherwise. You brought this on yourself when you killed my brother.”
I clench my fist, feeling the weight of his words. “He came to kill me,” I spit out, the memory of that night in France vivid and terrifying.
“And yet, here you are, alive and well,” he retorts sharply. “Actions have consequences, Jess. I’m sure you’ve heard the phrase.”
The realization that this is about revenge, about the cycle of violence that seems never-ending, hits me hard. “So this is revenge? Using Emma to get to me?”
“In a manner of speaking,” he admits. “But it’s more than that. It’s about balance, about ensuring that the scales are tipped back in favor of justice.”
His words twist in my stomach, the idea that my fight for survival has led to this, to an innocent being caught in the crossfire. “Emma has nothing to do with this. Let her go. Your fight is with me.”
“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, Jess. Everyone connected to you is part of this now. You’ve made sure of that. That dumb old crone living next door. She’s next if you don’t listen. Garibaldi wants to make a deal and he wants your full attention. I’m going to send you an address. Come alone or your friends pay the price for your past actions.”
The line goes dead, leaving me reeling with the implications of his words. Panic and fury war within me, a tumultuous storm threatening to overwhelm my senses. But beneath it all lies a steely determination. I won’t let Emma suffer because of me. I can’t.
Alessandro’s warnings echo in my head, a constant reminder of the danger that looms over us. But with Emma’s life on the line, inaction is a luxury I can’t afford. The address pops up on my phone.
I take a deep breath, steadying my nerves. My mind races through the options, each more perilous than the last. Going directly to the address given by the kidnapper is a straight path to a trap. I’ve learned enough from Alessandro to know that much. Yet, doing nothing isn’t an option either.
I load up a map of the city on my phone. My finger hovers over the location given by the kidnapper, a nondescript warehouse a few miles from here. It’s isolated, which means no unexpected witnesses but also no easy escape routes.
“I need a plan,” I murmur to myself, the words a beacon of resolve in the uncertainty that clouds my mind. I remember a conversation with Alessandro, his voice calm as he explained the basics of tactical advantage. “Always have an exit strategy,” he’d said, “and never corner a desperate opponent.”
I start to outline a strategy in my head. First, I’ll need a disguise. If the kidnapper is watching, I can’t afford to be recognized before I even get close. I head for the nearest clothes store, selecting an outfit that’s nondescript, easily blending into the urban environment.
Next, I consider transportation. Using a car is too obvious, too traceable. Public transport is unpredictable. A courier on a bike races past and I smile.
“A bike,” I decide, the idea fully formed as if whispered by intuition. It’s agile, unassuming, and I can abandon it if necessary without attracting attention. It’ll be the last thing they’ll expect. They’ll be watching for cars, not bikes.
My heart pounds in my chest as I consider the next part of my plan—communication. Taking my phone is out of the question; it’s too easy to track. I need an alternative, something that can’t be traced back to me.
A burner phone. I recall seeing a small electronics store a few blocks away, one that seemed inconspicuous enough for such a purchase.
Lastly, I think about weaponry. I go back to the mansion, avoiding the guards, before picking out a small, easily concealable stun gun from the arsenal.
Non-lethal, but effective enough to give me an edge if things go sideways. I leave my cellphone by the door. If the asshole who took Emma could get my number, they might be tracking it.
With my plan taking shape, a semblance of control steadies my trembling hands. I’m not a soldier like Alessandro, nor do I possess his ruthlessness. But I have my own strengths—my wit, my determination, and my love for Emma, propelling me forward.
“I can do this,” I whisper to the empty room, a mantra against the fear. “For Emma.”
The electronics shop is just opening as I arrive, the neon “Open” sign flickering to life. Inside, the smell of new plastic and metal fills the air, mingling with the faint odor of coffee from the shop next door.
The clerk barely spares me a glance as I purchase a burner phone, my hands steady despite the adrenaline coursing through me. “That your bike outside?” I ask.
He gives me a grunt as a response.
