His eyes find mine immediately. Relief flashes there, but beneath it, something else moves: fear. Not fear for himself—never that—but a raw, unguarded fear for me that twists something profound inside my chest. His gaze drags over me, taking in every mark, every bruise.
I push myself upright, wincing at the protest in my ribs. My hands form the words before my thoughts can catch up. What are you doing here?
“I came for you,” he says, and his voice is rough, as if the words scraped their way out.
You let them take you. The thought makes my hands shake as I sign it.
“I had no choice,” he answers, his voice breaking for a moment before he forces it steady. “It was the only way to get to you. If Ihad charged in here with my men, Greco would have killed you before I could get to you.”
I swallow, wanting to tell him how much his sacrifice means to me.
His jaw tightens, his eyes burning into mine. “I swear to you, Liliana, I will kill him. I will kill them both with my own hands.” He signs. “I will get you out, tesoro. I promise you. I am here now.”
I try to ignore the lift of my heart. My worry for him dominates my thoughts. You should not have come like this. They could kill you.
His mouth twists, the slightest hint of a smile, though there is no humor in it. “No, he wouldn’t. The bastard will want to keep you alive as leverage.”
His mouth twists into that hint of a smile again, though there is no humor in it. “Let them try.”
Then he exhales slowly, and I feel the shift in his tension, the guilt that had been hidden behind his controlled fury. His hands tighten around the arms of the chair for a moment before he meets my eyes again.
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, the words heavy with regret. “I should never have let you walk into that bar alone. That was my failure. Mine, and mine alone. You should never have been putin this position. I should have been there to stop them before they even set eyes on you. I failed you, Liliana.”
My chest aches at the confession, the vulnerability beneath his unshakable presence. His eyes glisten with a rare, unguarded fear—fear for me, for my safety, for what could have been.
The sound of footsteps echoes through the space, and Vittorio pushes the door open, a cold, calculated smirk curling his lips. My father follows, his face a mask of familiar disdain.
Vittorio steps into the light, his suit still immaculate despite the stink of this place. He walks with the easy confidence of a man who believes the ground belongs to him.
Vittorio looks between us, the corner of his mouth lifting. “I have to admit, Giovanni, I didn’t expect you to walk in here so willingly. Makes things simpler for me.”
“Let her go.”
Vittorio chuckles, the sound low and almost pleasant, although there is nothing pleasant in his eyes. “You think you’re in a position to make demands? You came alone, just as I wanted. This is the scenario I was hoping for when I decided to make my location public knowledge.” He laughs with a sinister glint. “Now you know exactly who’s in control here.”
Renato folds his arms, his voice carrying that same dry contempt I’ve known all my life. “You’ve made a habit of escaping every one of my previous traps, Giovanni. But that ends today.”
“You must be a bad hunter then, because I have never noticed any of your previous traps.”
The insult hits its intended mark, because Renato lands him a punch in the stomach. “Who do you think laid the ambush six years ago?” Renato grates. “It was meant to finish you off, and knowing it was only a matter of time before your father bowed to his illness, I would have been there to swoop in.”
“So, you are well acquainted with failed plans.”
That earns Giovanni another blow. Vittorio steps closer to him. “You think you can walk in here and walk out with her? You’ll leave here broken, and then dead, and she’ll watch every second of it.”
Giovanni’s gaze flicks to me, and there is no single emotion on it. He holds my gaze as though trying to tell me to trust him. “That will not happen,” he says, and though his voice is steady, I can hear the resolve in it.
“How touching,” Vittorio says as he circles behind Giovanni. “The great Giovanni Renzetti, reduced to running after a mute little tramp.”
Giovanni’s eyes never leave mine. “Let her go,” he says in a cold, deadly voice that sends shivers down my spine.
Vittorio laughs, his voice low and grating. “No. I think I like her here. I like the way you look at her, as if you'd bleed yourself dry for her.”
He gestures, and two men step forward. My pulse begins to race as they move toward Giovanni.
What are you doing? I scream in my head as terror freezes my hands
The first punch lands hard against Giovanni’s jaw. His head snaps to the side, but he doesn’t make a sound. Another blow comes, sharp to his ribs, then another, and another. His body jerks with the force, the chains rattling each time. He can’t move to defend himself, can’t lift a hand to block.
