Page 164 of The Savage

Ciso doesn’t answer. His glare shifts instead – to Bibiana across the paddock. Something dark and complicated flickers there.

Then, abruptly, he turns back to me. ‘Any word from Jacinta?’

My chest tightens but I think about the reunion anyway.

About how Jacinta looked when she stepped through the café doors in Midtown, eyes filling before she even reached me.

We clung to each other, uncaring who saw, both of us crying too hard to speak at first. She laughed through tears, touching my face like she needed to convince herself I was real. She said she’d missed me every day. I believed her. I still do.

But there was something else there too. A tension she couldn’t quite hide. Jacinta looked healthy, vibrant even, but her smiles came a beat too late. Her answers about her work were vague.

‘A bit of consulting. Advising. Things that matter,’ she’d said, then changed the subject.

When I pressed, she kissed my cheek and told me not to worry. That she was safe. That she had things under control. We parted with promises to call, to visit, to never let the distance grow again.

Then the silence came back.

Abrupt and total.

I shake my head. ‘We saw her last month. Then nothing.’

The silence gnaws at all of us. I asked Renzo to reach out to Nightowl last week. He did. The reply came in the middle of the night.

Four words. No context. No explanation.

Nightowl

The bird flies backward.

I don’t know what it means. Neither does Renzo. That somehow makes it worse. Renzo presses a kiss to my temple. ‘We’ll find her.’

I nod. I believe him. I believe in him.

He rests his forehead against mine for a beat longer, then steps back, eyes dark, full of promises.

‘Wait for me,’ he says.

Always.

I watch him walk away towards the car, towards the noise and danger and speed, my hand drifting unconsciously to the ring.

This is my life now. I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.

And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

* * *

Renzo

The podium is loud. Bright. Familiar.

I’ve already clinched the championship. Everything from here on out is extra. Victory laps. Noise. Money.

Vittore’s gone quiet. Ivanov too. Palinski kept his word. The Salvatores are thriving.

It feels like the calm before a storm, sure – but I’m not stupid enough to turn down peace when it shows up dressed like this.

I scan the paddock and find her instantly.