As he brags, the pieces finally click together in my mind. The text message. The unanswered phone calls. The kidnappers used Camilla's phone to lure me out to that coffee shop, but Camilla herself isn't actually here.
I don't know how they managed to get their hands on her phone—whether they stole it or pick pocketed it—but the realization that my sister is completely safe and completely unaware of this nightmare brings a sudden wave of clarity.
A small thread of genuine relief twists through my chest, cutting through the fear. If she is safe, then this is just about me.
“How did you get my sister’s phone?” I ask.
“Shut up!” He grabs my jaw with strong hands. I hide a wince. “You don’t get to ask questions, you bitch. I’m going to enjoy breaking you.”
I look up at Pietro, keeping my face as stoic as Alessandro's mask, even though I know the brutal reality of my situation: I am now the bait, and the trap is set for my husband.
“You will not get away with this, Pietro,” I tell him, swallowing my fear. “My husband will come for you. And when he does, there’s nowhere on this planet you’d be able to hide from him.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
ALESSANDRO
"We are looking at a classic viper in the nest, Alessandro," Salvatore barks, slamming his heavy fist onto the mahogany table.
I sit back in my leather chair, my expression a perfectly carved mask of indifference, though my patience is already wearing razor-thin. The cigar smoke in the private boardroom is thick enough to choke a lesser man. Around the table sit the elders—Vittorio, Enzo, and Salvatore. Today, they are mourning. They are discussing Nino’s sudden, undignified death, their faces lined with a mixture of grief and deep, paranoid confusion.
"The man survives three turf wars, two assassination attempts, and a federal indictment," Vittorio mutters, shaking his head as he stares down at his glass of amber bourbon. "And you are telling me he slips on a wet tile floor in his own bathroom? It makes no damn sense. It’s an insult to his legacy."
"It isn't an accident," Salvatore insists, leaning forward, his eyes gleaming with suspicion. "I’m telling you, it might be his wife, Giulia, who killed him. Young women like her are always after the money. She saw an opportunity to inherit the estate, the secret accounts, and she greased that floor. Mark my words."
I let out a slow, controlled breath, tapping the ash off my cigar into the crystal tray. "Giulia has been married to Nino for ten years, Salvatore. If she was after a quick payout, she wouldn’t wait a decade, playing the doting mafia wife while he grows old and senile."
Vittorio waves his hand dismissively, his diamond pinky ring catching the dim light of the chandelier. "It doesn’t matter. Ten years, two years, twenty years—a woman's loyalty is only as strong as her latest grievance. The moment Nino started losing his grip on the docks, she probably smelled the blood in the water. We need to question her before she flees the country with his assets."
Enzo remains quiet, nodding in agreement with his peers. I look around the room, noting the empty seat to my right. Valerio isn't present; I keep him out of this specific briefing to ensure his eyes stay on the street tracking Luca's coordinates. Dealing with these paranoid old men is my cross to bear alone this afternoon.
"We don't move against an elder’s widow on a hunch," I say, my voice dropping into a low, authoritative register that silences the table. "We have a war with Luca on our hands. I won't have us wasting resources chasing ghosts in a bathroom."
Enzo snaps, leaning aggressively over the table. "So, what would you do, Alessandro? Just sit back and let our elders get picked off one by one?"
I narrow my eyes, the temperature in the room plummeting to absolute zero. I lean forward, pinning him with a stare that has made hardened men beg for their lives. "Watch your tone with me, Enzo, if you don't want trouble. I am the Don of this family, not your subordinate."
He snaps his mouth shut, his face flushing a deep, angry red as he slowly sinks back into his chair.
“Nino slipped and died. There’s no conspiracy theory here. It can happen to the best of us. He’s dead and he’s gone. The end.” I look around the table, making sure the rest of them understand who is in charge here. "Our priority is Luca. We have to find him, neutralize him, and secure our territories. Everything else is a distraction."
Before anyone can respond, the heavy oak doors of the boardroom burst open and Valerio walks in. I’m already halfway up my seat at the look in his eyes. Valerio knows exactly when not to interrupt me, and for him to breach a secure meeting with the elders, I am certain he has a damn good reason.
The elders watch in tense silence as Valerio strides directly to the head of the table, leans close to my ear, and whispers, "We just got a text from Luca's burner."
The blood in my veins turns to ice. I look at him, my voice a deadly murmur. "What is the text about?"
Instead of answering verbally, he holds out a secure phone. My eyes scan the glowing screen, reading the words that instantly stop my heart:
“Meet me here by 2 pm if you want to see Sienna alive again.”
There’s an address link below.
A rare, violent wave of panic surges straight up my throat. I look at Valerio, the mask of the Don cracking completely. "I thought Sienna was at the house with Camilla. I told her to bring Camilla home."
"I thought so too," Valerio says, his own voice tight with mounting dread. "But I called the estate the second I got the text. The house staff said she hasn’t returned. I also tried to call the three guards who went with her, but none of them were answering their radios or phones. They’re entirely off the grid."
The room feels like it's spinning. I run a hand through my hair, gripping the strands hard as the terrifying reality sets in. "Fuck."
