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That’s when I realized I was truly on my own.
I thought I would feel relieved for avenging my mother’s death and sending him where he belonged, but those emotions were short-lived after I realized how dangerous of a man he actually is.
The fact that he chose this place twenty-five years later is a reminder that he always had a hold on me, even from behind bars.
I can’t be weak, though. Not now when he has my daughter.
Straightening my spine, I enter through the half-built door. The stench of piss, alcohol, and something rotten hits me in the face. An indication that this place was used by all the lowlifes that roam the city.
I take the stairs as fast as I can, hoping, no, praying for the first time in my life that Kingsley will be able to find us.
With Nicolo’s help, he might.
As per my father’s instructions, I had to leave my bag, phone, and everything else behind. I parked the car a few blocks away as he told me, but I hope it’s close enough for Kingsley to guess where we are.
Naturally, I couldn’t call the police or let my bodyguards follow me.
This is family business.
Also, I couldn’t risk having Gwen hurt in the process.
By the time I arrive at the top level, I’m panting like a dog. My jacket and hair stick to my neck with sweat and my feet scream in pain.
However, all discomfort disappears when I catch a glimpse of Gwen strapped to a rolling chair that’s a few inches away from the edge. As in, the edge of a dilapidated balcony with no railings, from which she can be pushed to her unavoidable demise.
Duct tape is strapped around her mouth, nearly reaching her ears. The afternoon light casts a haunting halo on her silhouette in a shock of yellow and orange. Her hair is disheveled, and her eyes almost bulge out as she observes the dark corners of the piece and the construction debris lying on the ground.
When she sees me, moisture gathers along her lids, and relief like I’ve never witnessed on her face rushes in.
“Gwen…don’t worry. I’m here.” I jog toward her.
My feet come to an abrupt halt when a shadow strolls from around the corner and stops beside Gwen’s chair.
It’s been twenty-five years since I last saw him and those years didn’t treat him well.
Bruno Locatelli has mean looks, narrowed brown eyes, and a pointy nose. A slash that’s the result of an assassination attempt runs down his left cheek to his thin lips.
His hair that was once black is now almost completely white. He’s always been a big man, but now he’s plumped up in an extravagance of muscles and fat.
The only thing he passed down to me is his height and a strong bone structure. Otherwise, I always looked like a non-docile version of my mom.
“Hello, my red dahlia.”
There’s no sneer in his slightly accented words, no mocking, and almost no infliction whatsoever.
I suspected my father was abnormal after I saw him kill the neighbor’s dog for making too much noise and then threatening to kill said neighbor’s son when he came asking about his dog. Later on, I realized he was definitely on the antisocial spectrum and used the mob life to quench his thirst for control, blood, and manipulation. So the fact that I put a damper on his plans sits wrong with him.
Very wrong.
“What do you want?” I ask in a neutral voice that doesn’t betray my shaking insides or how my heart nearly spills out onto the ground.
I always thought I’d clash with my father. That sooner or later he’d find me. And I’ve been ready for it all my life—and that includes the times when I was trying to rise above it.
The only difference is that before now, I didn’t have Gwen or Kingsley. I didn’t have a life that I wanted to protect with everything I have.
“Is that any way to greet me after all these years? Shouldn’t you at least come hug me?”
“You never hugged me before. Why should I do so now?”
