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Losing my best friend means every shred of sunshine has been stolen. I’m only left with darkness. The growing despair fuels my desperation to find her, getting stronger with every beat of my heart. The things they’ve had the time to do to her… she’s been gone too long. I don’t even think she’ll be the same sweet little girl when she comes home to us. If she ever comes home. She’s strong though. She can come out of this alive, I know it. I won’t survive considering any other outcome.
When the head of the Segreto family demanded I come to his office, for a single moment, I allowed myself to hope that they found her. I wasn’t listening for the sounds of anger, but the heart lifting giggles of her joy.
I’m frozen in place as hope is ripped from my clutches. Another disappointing, soul crushing realization that I’ve failed to bring her home. Interrogation is an art, and I can’t help but blame myself for my victims not knowing jack shit.
A thud hits the wall next to me, closely followed by more glass shattering. I can’t wait any longer, dread of finding out what has him so upset is making things worse. Procrastinating on finding out won’t help me find her faster.
My gaze catches on the fresh blood coating my hand as I reach for the doorknob. Usually, I wouldn’t even fathom the idea of walking into his office without knocking, but it only took two days for him to demand I drop the time wasting pretense.
The door swings open to reveal the Don with his head hung low, hands pulling at his hair. I step through the opening and glance to the wall beside me, finding whisky dripping down it. The glass crunches underfoot as I walk in and close the door behind me. He doesn’t raise his head, knowing nobody else would dare enter the room right now.
An open box catches my attention, as if a spotlight is shining on it. It’s sitting on his desk, half of which is cleared off, explaining the first crash I heard. My steps are hesitant as I approach, troubled at what could be inside that has him so distraught. Please don’t be her head.
My mouth is suddenly dry, and yet I still try to swallow past the lump in my throat. The inside of the box is almost in view when my foot lands on a lump. Glancing down, I find a crumpled paper, and bend over to pick it up. I don’t unfold it though, too distracted by the overwhelming need to find out what’s in the box.
Blood coats the inside, which doesn’t come as much of a surprise. My stomach clenches as I peer inside, hoping I don’t find the worst, praying to a god I don’t believe in. But when I see the organ laying at the bottom, I’m at a loss as to what it could be. Not a liver, kidney, or heart. I’ve studied images of them when learning where to plunge a knife to kill a man. But this… this alludes me.
“What is that?” I choke out, my voice cracking with so much emotion trapped in my throat.
His head finally lifts with the sound of my question. Red rimmed eyes stare at me unseeing, as if he’s lost within himself. I’m not even certain he processed the words. My hand twitches, and I’m reminded of the paper I’m still holding. It crinkles as I smooth it out.
We’ve plucked your precious flower. We severed her pollen and crushed her petals. Soon enough the rest of you will be wiped out. Permanently.
What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
As the thought runs through my mind, her father answers as if he heard it. “They sterilized her. Sent me her fucking uterus to taunt me.” He practically vibrates with his anger. This time he throws a lamp at the window showing the dance floor. Glass rains to the ground below, drawing a few eyes before the men leave quickly.
My stomach revolts, and before I know it I’m leaning over and spilling the meager contents it holds. What kind of monster would do this to a child? And if they are capable of doing this… what else have they done to her?
At least she’s still alive.
I repeat the words over and over in my mind as I wipe my mouth. Because one thing I know for sure, they wouldn’t send her uterus if they could have sent her head.
A calm hardness washes over me, and I know the same thing happened to the Don, because his eyes finally meet mine. A silent agreement passes between us.
The war may have started in Italy, but they brought it here to us. And we’ll burn the world down to get her back.
Twenty years changes a man. The Don isn’t the same person he used to be, and I can’t blame him. Losing Raven destroyed us both. We’ve had to find ways to cope with knowing we didn’t find her in time to save her from so much pain. And then we weren’t there to try and put her back together again.
On top of it all, he was the one to meticulously watch the videos they started to send us of her torture sessions. He memorized every detail to try and help us find her. Watching his daughter go through that, it warps a man’s mind.
Fuck. I can’t blame her for being so enraged with us.
If only he didn’t find out I’ve been getting too close to her. He’d still trust me enough to ask my advice on how to handle this whole screwed up situation. At least she seems to accept Enzo. The kid has a good heart, but he’s been fucked up by mafia life and has a psychotic side too.
I’ve always thought they would get along, and so far, it seems I was right. His arm is firmly draped over her shoulders, and she hasn’t tried to shake him off. I know she’s distracted with Grayson being dragged in here, but that wouldn’t make her forget her brother’s touch. She’s probably been craving the comfort family brings since she was taken, and has only recently begun to get from us. Now she feels betrayed. We ripped that comfort out from under her, making her crave it so much more.
“Come on, let’s go,” Enzo encourages her.
My girl gives him a scathing glare before focusing on her father once more. “What the fuck did you do to Grayson?” she demands. I wish I could check on him for her, but Mr. Segreto wouldn’t look kindly on the action. Instead, I stand here frozen in place, my muscles locked in a rigid position as I hold myself back.
“My guys knocked him out. He’ll be fine. We’ll escort him and your other friends from the city,” he replies smoothly.
If looks could kill, he’d be dead instantly with the seething glare that lights up Remi’s eyes. She may go by Raven for everyone else, but I have a feeling the men closest to her will still call her by the names we’ve grown used to.
“Excuse me,” she says, her clipped tone having lowered into a calm deadliness.
“You’re the principessa, Figlia. I can’t have you fraternizing with anyone you please.”
