I wouldn't. I couldn't.
"I can't, Gianna. Please. Move on. If you need money or anything else, I’ll give you anything you want, but you need to give me this. Leave me alone."
There was dead silence on the phone for a few seconds until—
"There's someone else, isn't there?"
This…this was too much. Again, I had no idea what to say. Another woman or not, the truth was that Gianna wasn’t for me and she refused to accept it.
"Gianna, it's really not about tha—"
"Who the fuck is this bitch?" Like magic, her sniffles were gone, her voice turning cold and menacing. "I will fuckingkillher, you hear me, Alex? I willmurderher."
Dear Jesus Christ, this was nearing a point of no return. I wondered if maybe she needed emergency psychological help because this was out of control even for her.
"Gianna? I’m not going to block your number because we both know you’ll call from another one but listen to me.” I held myself back from screaming the words out of frustration. “Donotcall me again. Do not come see me, do not think about me. Leave. Me. Alone.” She stayed silent, listening to my message. “We’re done. There’s no one else. There’s no other woman. It’s just over between us.”
I hung up the phone as quickly as I could and bolted out of Andrei’s house, just to clear my fucking head.
Because my head was in some kind of disarray. Because for the first time ever, I had no fucking clue what I was doing. What thefuckwere we doing with Jade?
The plan seemed so clear before: kidnap her, leave her in the house, wait for Moretti to lose his shit. Once that was accomplished, we’d approach him and let him know to drop the investigation. If he said no, we’d double down and send him someone’s pinky finger.
The plan was to take the pinky off a fresh corpse. But now…now it all seemed ridiculous.
I slumped down in my bed at some point past midnight, unable to take a full breath in. The itch wouldn't go away. The itch was stronger than ever. It was under my skin, in my brain, in my eyes, in every breath I took.
It was on my hands.
And my hand moved lower beneath the sheets, self-loathing filling me up. I closed my eyes and floated in memories of Jade. Of her defiant gaze and her smile. And I forbade myself from ever admitting what I was doing.
Days passed.
Jade’s voice grew louder in my head.
Xavier was abusive.
It was very difficult to leave.
There were incidents.
I managed to escape. Barely.
It had been a weeksince I’d seen Jade. It was also almost ten in the evening, and I sat on my Ducati Panigale across the street from the restaurant where Knox was having dinner. I’d had enough time to cool down, but the thought of taking him out intensified inside me with every passing day and night.
I’d made multiple arguments to support my plan. Sebastian Moretti wasn’t backing down—he was holding a press conference every day, insisting that he didn’t negotiate with terrorists and that once his daughter was found, those responsible would be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.
There was mostly anger on his face, no fear. So taking Xavier out might change his tune. First, his daughter goes missing, and then the daughter’s ex-boyfriend is shot in the head? His brain splattering the inside of the car like an abstract painting? His filthy and disgusting life ended at the ripe age of twenty-five or thirty or however fucking old he was? The golden trust-fund-baby-turned-rapist found executed on the streets of Miami?
All great headlines.
Just as I tried to remember what the other great argument was, I caught sight of a tall man leaving the restaurant doors. His brown hair was styled back, and he wore an oversized black T-shirt, the tattoos on his forearms blending with his vicious, dark soul. He was typing something on his phone as he approached a car, and oh—the fucker had a chauffeur too.
He looked a little tense for a man who assaulted innocent and delicate women. I couldn’t understand it. How does anybody date Jade Moretti and also have theballsto fucking hurt her? Not only did he beat her, at some point he had also manipulated her into thinking he was anice guy.
Knox’s car set off and I made a U-turn, accelerating and swerving around traffic to get closer to his SUV.
The image of his blasted skull kicked my adrenaline into action, but then I had a moment of doubt. Did he really deserve a fast death? A bullet was too nice.
