“Like I’m about to go to war.”
Marco and Dante exchange a look that tells me how much they hate this plan. But neither of them tries to talk me out of it because they know it won’t work.
“There’s one more thing.” Marco pulls a small pistol from behind his back. “This is a Sig P365. Smaller, easier to conceal, and holds ten rounds. Dante wants you to carry it tomorrow.”
I take the gun and the weight of it, lighter than the Glock, settles something in my stomach.
“I hope I don’t have to use it.”
“So do we.”
Elena arrives at the estate around two in the afternoon. I hear her voice in the foyer and something in my chest cracks open at the sound of it, familiar and warm and exactly what I need right now.
I find her in the main hallway arguing with one of Dante’s guards. The moment she sees me, her face lightens with relief and she pulls me into her arms.
“Oh honey. Oh god, Scarlett.”
I break, having bottled up a lot.
All the fear and guilt and terror I’ve been holding together comes flooding out and I sob into her shoulder. She holds me tight and strokes my hair and doesn’t say anything, just lets me fall apart.
“He’s so scared,” I finally manage to say. “Luca’s out there and he’s scared and he doesn’t understand why his mama didn’t come for him and I can’t?—”
“Stop.” Elena pulls back and takes my face in her hands, her eyes fierce. “You listen to me. You are doing everything you can to get that boy back. Everything.”
“What if we don’t? What if Viktor?—”
“No.” Elena pulls back and takes my face in her hands. “You don’t get to think like that. Dante has sixty men. Sixty. And he’s been planning this since the moment Luca was taken.”
“He has my son.”
“And that’s exactly why he’s going to lose. Because there is nothing more dangerous than parents fighting for their child.” She pulls me close again. “Love makes you stronger, not weaker. Remember that.”
We sit together in one of the smaller sitting rooms while Elena holds my hand. She tells me about Marco, about how he proposed three years ago and how scared she was to marry into this life. She tells me that loving someone in the mafia means accepting that danger is always present, but it also means knowing that these men will burn down the world to protect what’s theirs.
“Dante loves you,” she says quietly. “I’ve known him for years and I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you.”
“He hasn’t said it.”
“Men like him don’t always have the words. But he showed you that war room, didn’t he? Showed you everything he’s built?”
“Yes.”
“That’s bigger than words. That’s trust. And for Dante, trust is the same as love.”
I think about that after Elena leaves. Trust and love being the same thing. Maybe for someone like Dante, who’s spent his whole life surrounded by betrayal, letting someone see the truth of him is the most intimate thing he can do.
Later that afternoon, I receive good news that Rosa is awake. I don’t waste time, I immediately go to check on her.
The doctor cleared her to move around, though she’s still pale and unsteady. The bruises on her face have darkened to purple and yellow.
“How are you feeling?”
“Like I failed him.” Her voice is hoarse. “I was supposed to protect that boy and I let them take him.”
“There were too many of them. You did everything you could.”
“It wasn’t enough.” She reaches for my hand and squeezes it tight. “I’ve been praying since I woke up. Praying to the Virgin, to every saint I can name. God will watch over Luca. He won’t let evil men win.”
