I notice how cool I feel before I even open my eyes.
At first, my sleep-clouded mind doesn’t process it. My hand reaches instinctively, expecting to find the warm curve of Maria’s body, the soft hush of her breathing pressed against me. But all I touch is the cold sheets.
My eyes snap open.
“Maria,” I call out her name in the thick of the darkness. I look at my phone on the bedside table and see it is almost three in the morning. “Maria?”
She’s not here.
A sharp pang of unease coils in my chest as I sit up, scanning the dimly lit room. Her nightgown lays on the floor where I stripped it off of her. The closet door is slightly ajar. The lamp on her nightstand is still on, casting a golden glow across the bed.
My gut twists. I try not to let my mind wander too far. Maybe she’s just downstairs in her studio, sketching out the storm in her chest—waiting for me to come and talk to her.
Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I stand quickly, my heart slamming against my ribs. I scan the room again, looking for anything, any sign, of where she might have gone.
Then I see it.
A folded piece of paper, placed neatly by the lamp. I snatch it up, my fingers tightening around the edges as I unfold it.
Some things can’t be undone, Matteo. And I don’t know how to be whole in your world anymore. I need to remember who I was before you. Please… let me go. Before I forget how to breathe without you. Before I forget what you took from me. —M
The breath I take is sharp, my pulse roaring in my ears.
“No, no, no!” The desperation in my tone is evident. I grab my phone from the nightstand and immediately call her.
“Hi, you’ve reached Maria Davacalli. Please leave a message after the—”
Straight to voicemail.
My jaw clenches so tightly it aches. I try again. The same thing—voicemail. A cold rush of panic floods my veins. I pull at my hair, feeling like the world is closing in on me.
I dial a different number, one I haven’t called since the wedding.
“Fuck.” I sit on the edge of the bed and wait.
“Davacalli. Bit late for a call in your time zone.” Maria’s father’s voice is sharp, clipped—no room for pleasantries. “You have three seconds to explain what you’ve done.”
“Where is she?”
There’s a pause. A measured silence that grates against my already fraying nerves.
“My daughter,” he says slowly, as if the word itself is a correction. “She’s coming home. And now I get to ask—what did you do? I told you not to hurt her. Are you incapable of even that small task?”
A muscle ticks in my jaw. “Italy? She’s flying back to Italy?”
His voice is clipped, a warning beneath his tone. “My wife received a message from her earlier. I sent another, but she hasn’t responded yet.”
I inhale through my nose, forcing my rage back. “And when was that?”
“About three hours ago.”
The pit in my stomach deepens. Three hours?
“Did she say anything else?” My grip tightens around the phone. “What flight is she going to take? Did she tell you when she was boarding?”
There’s another pause, and that does nothing to ease the panic that riddles my bones.
“She never confirmed whether she boarded a flight,” he finally says. “Or what flight she was taking. I was going to tell her to wait a few hours for our jet so she could travel more comfortably, but she never responded. I just assumed she was already in the air.”
My breath comes out slow, controlled. But inside, a storm is raging. Something is very, very wrong here. I can feel it right down to the marrow of my bones. It’s an unsettling feeling, one I felt when I first found Beatrice lying on the floor, unconscious.
I pull the phone away from my ear and switch screens. I tap into the tracker I had placed on Maria’s car, watching as the signal pinpoints her last known location.
JFK. The car’s at the airport—but if she’s not answering her father, maybe she never boarded a flight at all.
The thought twists in my gut. Why wouldn’t she? I don’t even want to think about it. All I know is I need to find her.
I put the phone back to my ear. “She never got on a flight.”
A sharp exhale from the other end. “What?”
“Her car is at the fucking airport,” I say, my voice deadly calm. “If she got on a flight—any flight—she would’ve told someone. You or your wife.”
I take a breath, my mind already racing.
“Wait. I need to make a call.”
Before he can respond, I hang up the phone and dial Ginny’s number. I hold it to my ear, praying that she answers the phone.
“Hello?” Ginny’s sleep-laden voice croaks through the phone.
“Have you spoken to Maria?”
“Wait—what’s going on?”
“Goddamn it, Ginny, focus.” My voice is a growl of barely restrained panic. “Have you spoken to my wife in the last three hours?”
I hear some rustling and then a clearing of a throat. “No, I last spoke to her last night when she—what’s wrong? Did something happen to her?”
“Maria is missing, and I don’t know where the hell she is.” I try to keep the panic out of my voice, but it slips through. “Her car’s at the airport, and her number isn’t going through. With Giacomo running loose, I… I need to find her.”
I pause, swallowing the rising dread. “If you haven’t heard from her, and neither have her parents, then something’s wrong. Seriously wrong.”
“Oh my God,” she gasps. I hear her shift away from the phone, her voice low as she speaks to someone beside her. “Hold on—I’m handing you over to Dario.”
“Matteo? What happened?”
“Maria’s gone. I tracked her car to the airport, but her phone isn’t going through. No one’s seen or heard from her in hours.”
I move to the closet, pulling on clothes as I speak, my voice tight with fury.
“That bastard took my wife. I know he did.”
“I thought you had men watching that place. Clearly, your security is a joke.”
“Not the time, Dario,” I hear his wife hiss in the background.
“Matteo, go to the airport. We’ll start mobilizing things on our end. We’ll find her.”
I agree with her, stepping out of the closet and heading for the door. I hang up on Dario and immediately call my second.
He answers on the first ring. “Boss?”
“There’s a situation,” I grit out, slipping on my jacket as I stalk toward the door. “Meet me at the airport.”
No questions. Just a sharp, “On it.”
I hang up, shove my phone into my pocket, and step into the hallway. My mind is already racing through every possibility.
If Maria had left me, I could’ve taken it, giving her space, if that’s what she needed.
Even if it tore me apart to watch her walk away.
But this?
This feels like something else. Something worse.
Her being taken—that’s what truly unsettles me.
I get to JFK in record time. The moment I pull into the parking lot, I spot it—Maria’s sleek Range Rover parked near the entrance. Everything looks normal on the outside, no signs of a struggle.
I step out of my car, my movements sharp, every nerve in my body screaming at me. The closer I get, the colder my blood runs. I keep my gaze locked on the perimeter.
As I near the car, that’s when I notice something on the windshield.
A note.
I yank it free, my fingers tightening around the edges as my eyes scan the words. A single sentence.
Looks like it’s my turn to take your wife, Matteo. —From your old friend G.
The world narrows. Every sound fades. Every thought burns away, leaving only one thing—cold, murderous intent.
I turn sharply, heading back to my car, one thought blazing through me like fire: Kill him.
But before I can get in, tires screech against the pavement. A black SUV pulls up fast, and Valerio steps out before the engine even fully dies. His eyes land on the note in my hand, then flick to Maria’s empty car.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “Tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”
“I need to go.”
Valerio’s face darkens, his jaw tightening as he stalks toward me. “Boss.” His voice is sharp with a clear warning. “Think before you fucking act.”
I shove the note into his chest. “There’s nothing to think about.”
His gaze scans the words, then snaps back to mine. “This is a fucking trap.”
“And you think I give a shit? He’s got my wife, Valerio. My wife.” The words taste like blood in my mouth because saying them makes it real. “He won’t hesitate to kill her. You know exactly what kind of monster he is.”
Valerio curses under his breath, dragging a hand through his hair. “I know you don’t give a damn when it comes to her,” he says. “But if you charge in without a plan, Maria dies. You could die. Then what the hell will it all have been for?”
He locks eyes with me. “I need you to calm down—we need to come up with a plan that’ll actually work.”
The words slam into me, white-hot and suffocating. My hands shake, my breaths coming in sharp, uneven bursts. I know he’s right. I fucking know. But every instinct in my body is screaming to move. To hunt. To kill.
Valerio steps closer, his voice low but firm. “Listen to me. We will get her back. But we have to be smart about this. Giacomo won’t just kill her like that. This whole game he is playing is about making you suffer in the worst way possible. He won’t kill her yet.”
Logically, I know he’s right. But logic doesn’t register right now. All I can think about is that my wife is with him.
My pulse pounds, my mind at war with itself. The need to act is crushing, suffocating—but the truth in his words is undeniable.
I force out a breath. A slow, lethal inhale.
“We head back to the penthouse and track Maria’s phone to see where it last pinged,” I tell my second. “Then we meet with Dario and his men and come up with a solid plan of attack. I’d say we’ve got roughly two hours to get our shit together.”
The timeline alone rips the hope straight out of my chest.
Two hours. That’s two hours too long.
Giacomo could do so much to her in that time.
And the worst part? There’s nothing I can do to stop it—not yet.
“Okay, I’ll drive. Leave your car here,” Valerio says, already moving toward his.
I follow close behind.
Valerio slides into the driver’s seat, his hands tight on the wheel. I settle into the back, gripping my phone so hard I’m surprised it hasn’t shattered.
The screen lights up—a photo of Maria on our wedding day, looking as beautiful as ever.
I exhale sharply through my nose, forcing my rage into focus. I can’t afford to let it consume me. Not yet.
Then, the blasting of my phone pulls me from my innermost thoughts.
An unknown number stares at me, my lips peel away from my teeth in a sneer. I already fucking know who it is.
I answer without hesitation. “Where is she?”
A chuckle. Slow. Cruel. Mocking.
“Matteo, Matteo,” Giacomo drawls, as if we’re old friends sharing a drink. “You sound a little tense. It’s so early in the morning, too. Shall we book you for a Swedish massage? It did wonders for my back.”
My entire body goes rigid, my fingers curling into a fist. “Where is my wife, you sick, twisted bastard?”
“Tsk.” He clicks his tongue. “So demanding. And here I was, hoping we could chat. After all, I am the one who called you. Not her.”
I grit my teeth, my heart pounding. “Where is my wife, Giacomo? If you hurt her, then I will—”
He chuckles again—darker this time. “You’ll kill me?”
A pause, heavy and deliberate.
“We both know that’s how this ends. So, why not have a little fun before the curtain falls? Come on… where’s your spirit?”
My jaw locks. “Giacomo—”
“My God, I don’t remember you being so whiny,” he sighs dramatically like I’m straining him. “Maria is still in one piece—for now. I can’t just take her and kill her. Do you give me no credit for my craft?”
A sharp breath escapes my teeth. “What do you want?”
Giacomo laughs. “Isn’t it obvious by now? I want you to suffer. I had Daniele… and now I’ve taken Maria. And the cherry on top?” His voice drips with venom. “She knows it was your cold-blooded hands that killed her brother.”
He pauses, savoring the moment.
“Tell me—how did she look at you when she found out the truth? When she realized the kind of monster you really are? God, I wish I’d been there. I’ve been sitting on that little piece of information for a long time.”
He was the one who told her.
A fire ignites in my chest, blinding. “If you touch her—”
“If?” He tsks again. “Matteo, Matteo. Let’s be honest with each other. We both know you’re running out of time. But seeing as it took you so long to figure out the warehouse, I’m going to throw you a bone. Call it my one act of kindness this year.”
My knuckles turn white, gripping my phone for dear life.
Valerio grunts under his breath, his own hands tightening around the wheel. I feel the car push forward as he makes his foot heavier, increasing the speed.
Giacomo’s voice drops into something colder. Darker.
“You have until noon,” he murmurs. “Or I start delivering Maria to you—piece by piece.”
My stomach twists. A growl rips from my throat. “You mother fu—”
“Ah, ah, ah. Careful now, you wouldn’t want to upset me. I get a little handsy when I’m angry.” Giacomo’s amusement only grows. “As for that bone I said I was going to throw you. Listen very carefully, my old friend. You will need to catch this one quickly if you wish to save the damsel.”
I clench my teeth, my breath coming fast and hard. “Out with it.”
“Return to the ghost of the past, of the one you cherished last. Some memories you shared once you cared. Out with the old and in with the new. She looks oddly familiar to her, too.”
The line goes dead, and he hangs up. I hold the phone to my ear, the words playing off in my head over and over again.
What could it all possibly mean? I wrack my brain, playing the words over and over again. For a split second, my mind goes blank. But then—
He’s talking about Beatrice. I know that much, but what could it be that she cherished last? She loved so many things: her family, a good glass of wine, the mountains in Aspen, and…
“I know where she is,” I say under my breath.
I built her a cabin about five years ago. She loved to go there every fall to sit among the pine trees and breathe in the freshness of nature. The last time we went was only a few months before she passed.
My pulse slams against my ribs, and I’m already dialing Dario back.
He picks up instantly. “Talk.”
“He has her at my family cabin. It’s about an hour out of the city.” My voice is razor-sharp. “I will send you the address, and you can meet us there.”
“We need to move now if it’s an hour out—we don’t have long until daybreak,” Dario says, his tone sharp. “I’ve got a team ready and assembled. We keep the squads small—he’ll be expecting firepower. We outmaneuver them. Be smart, be fast. We get her out first. Then, we take the shot and put this fucker down.”
And that honor will be all mine.
I hear some shuffling in the background before she comes back on the line. Her voice is thick with emotion—like she’s been crying.
“Matteo,” Ginny says, breathless. “There’s something you need to know.”
My grip tightens around the phone. “Know what?”
Something in her voice—sharp, trembling—makes the air shift.
“Maria might be pregnant.”
The world tilts.
For one long, brutal second, I forget how to breathe.
Everything fades—the car, the road, the sky bleeding into dusk.
Maria. Pregnant.
A baby.
My blood. Our future.
I clutch the phone so hard it creaks in my hand. “What did you just say?”
Ginny exhales shakily. “She wasn’t feeling well, Matteo. I told her to take a test, and she said she’d let me know once she found out… but she never got back to m—”
I can’t hear the rest. My heart is pounding too loudly. My vision blurs. I don’t even realize my hand is shaking until Valerio looks back and grabs my wrist. Steadying me.
“Boss,” he says, voice tense, urgent. “You okay?”
I inhale sharply, locking my focus back into place.
“Yeah,” I swallow hard. “I’m fine. Head to the cabin. I will call in the reinforcements and make sure they meet us three miles out. We are shooting to kill, but leave Giacomo for me. It will be my bullet that ends him.”
Valerio presses on the gas and floors it down the road straight into battle.
You wanted war, Giacomo? Prepare to die in it.
