The night is a shroud, an inky blackness that clings to every corner of the city. It’s heavy and suffocating, the thick air and shadows seeming to close in around us as we drive through the streets. I can feel it, a presence that lingers just beyond the reach of my senses. It’s a sense of foreboding like everything is about to change.
We’re steadily following the car in front of us, and I glance out the back window, Nicoli’s headlights shining directly on us. My hands tremble on my lap, fingers twitching to reach out and touch him one last time before it’s too late. God, please just keep him safe. I can’t bear the thought of something happening to him. I would rather die than lose him.
Streetlights flicker like beacons in the distance, smearing luminous patches of yellow light over cracked pavement and graffiti-covered walls. It’s like an invisible menace that lurks all around me, invisible yet tangible. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up as we turn down a dark alleyway, a knot forming in the pit of my stomach.
“Almost there,” the driver says, his voice barely penetrating the oppressive silence that fills the car. I nod. My throat is too tight to speak.
My eyes dart nervously around the alleyway, searching for any sign of danger. I can barely make out the silhouette of buildings in the distance and a flicker of movement just beyond them.
I glance at the clock on the car’s dashboard. We’ve been driving for almost twenty minutes, taking so many turns I don’t even know where we are anymore. It’s supposed to make it harder for anyone to follow us, but the three cars driving closely together know the route. Nicoli and Maximo have been working on finding the safest way—and the longest—all morning and afternoon, planning every turn with a secret location in mind.
The light shining through the back window disappears, and I whip around in my seat. There’s no one behind us. Nicoli is supposed to be behind us, but he’s not.
“Where is Nicoli?” I ask the driver, and he speaks into his earpiece. But my heart is pounding too fast, the erratic beat the only thing I hear.
The car screeches to a sudden, unexpected halt, thrusting me forward with a jolt that sparks a wildfire of fear in my chest. My heart pounds frantically against my ribs as a bolt of adrenaline shoots through my veins like icy fire, shaking me with its intensity.
“Shit,” I gasp, gripping the door handle as if it’s the only thing keeping me grounded. “What’s happening?”
“Fuck!” the driver grits out. He lets go of the wheel, reaches for the holster at his side, and pulls out a gun. The next sound is a deafening boom that pierces through the silence as the door flies open, leaving a trail of spattered blood across the windscreen.
A scream rips from my throat as my driver’s lifeless body sags into the seat, my ears ringing from the gunshot. I’m frozen in terror, my mind racing as I try to understand what’s happening.
I twist around in my seat, trying to look out the back window again, sucking in a breath when I see a figure standing in the dark—like a shadow with a blackness that rivals the night.
It’s him. I know it is.
I scramble to the far end of the car, my heart pounding so hard it feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest.
It takes me a moment to realize that someone has opened the door on my side and is now yanking at my arm. Without thinking, I grab the other door handle, kicking at whoever is trying to pull me out of the car.
“Let go of me!” I scream, giving another wild kick, hitting them square in the face. There’s a crunch as their nose breaks, and I hear him cursing and yelling, his hands no longer clawing at my legs.
I try to open the other passenger side door, but it won’t budge, leaving me with only one option. I launch back toward the door when the man clutches his nose, blood spilling through the creases of his fingers. Grabbing the door handle, I try to pull it closed when he hunches down, trying to stop me from closing it. But I grab the handle with both hands, grimacing as I use every ounce of strength to yank it, slamming the guy’s head between the car and the door. I do it again, harder this time, blood gushing from his ears and nose. I swing one leg to the side, kicking him back, and I can barely see through the blur in my eyes as I manage to slam the door shut before reaching over the driver’s dead body, yanking the driver’s-side door closed, too, and locking the car.
My breaths are coming out in ragged gasps as I prop myself up between the two front seats, frantically looking out the front and back window.
I glance at the ignition, but the keys are gone. Shit. The man whose skull I fractured must have taken them when he shot the driver.
“Fuck!” I’m trying to figure out what to do when the sound of footsteps trudging through gravel has me frozen. I tense up, struggling to swallow, and it feels like every footstep pounds in time with my heartbeat.
Suddenly, there’s a knock on the back window, and I jump with a yelp, my pulse throbbing in the side of my neck.
“Open up, birdie.”
Oh, God. I suck in a breath, planting my palm over my mouth to keep myself from screaming.
A loud bang shakes the car, the back window shattering, but it doesn’t break. I yelp with fright, my heart leaping up my throat, making it hard to breathe as I stare at the shattered window.
“Open up the car, birdie,” Nunzio commands, his voice deep and gravelly, sending chills down my spine.
“Fuck you!” I scream at him, and his malicious laughter echoes like a demon whisper in the darkness.
“I’m afraid we don’t have a lot of time, so I’m going to have to skip playing games,” he says with amusement. “For now, that is.”
I frantically search for a way out, my eyes darting around the car until they land on the driver’s gun, lying by his feet just next to the brakes. I twist myself around, stretching over the dead driver as far as I can, tears welling in my eyes as I desperately try to maneuver myself over the body. Half his face is covered in blood, his chest, too, and it’s starting to stick to me like hot tar. The metallic stench of death fills my nostrils, seeping into my lungs with every breath. I force myself over him, squeezing through the seats, the edges pressing painfully into my sides as I try to reach the gun.
There’s another loud crack, a gunshot, and the passenger side window cracks and flexes as the bulletproof glass absorbs the bullet’s force.
“You can’t stay in there forever, birdie.”
“Watch me,” I grit out softly, inching forward just a little more, my fingertips barely touching the gun.
“You want me to blow up this car with you in it?”
“You won’t.” My fingertips brush over the gun.
“I won’t?”
There’s a rhythmic tap on the front window, a sheet of ice slicing through my spine. I freeze and slowly glance up, and it’s like a bolt of fear zaps straight through me when I see him leaning from the side, tapping his gun against the window. I always knew seeing him again would take me back to that room—naked and unable to stop him from hurting me. I knew looking into his eyes would open the floodgates to memories I’ve worked so hard to lock away. But I never expected the fear and debilitating tremors to claw into me, gripping me so tight, making it impossible for me to move.
“Get out,” he says, tilting his head to the side. “Or I’ll blow up this goddamn car.”
“You won’t kill me.” The words just blurt out of my mouth before I can stop them, and a vindictive smile creeps onto his lips.
“I won’t?”
I straighten between the two front seats. “If you kill me, you kill your baby.”
His expression falters with a second—a goddamn second before his face hardens. “We don’t know if it’s my baby yet.”
“Does it matter? Isn’t that why you’re here? To take me and find out for yourself?”
He narrows his eyes, his gaze flickering over my face before sliding down to my stomach.
“You want to know if I’m carrying the future Ferrero heir.” I try to infuse as much confidence in my voice as I can muster, thinking I might buy some time for Nicoli or Maximo to get here if I stall. “And if I am, what then?”
He moves away from the front window, leaning down to look at me through the driver’s side. “Then that child belongs to me. And so do you, birdie.” The smirk that curls at the edges of his mouth is enough to make me sick to my stomach. He considers me for a moment, our eyes locked. I refuse to look away, to cower. His presence might invoke fear in me, but my will to remain strong is far greater.
Hard lines of anger start to take over his expression, his dark brows creasing inward. “Get out of the fucking car!” he screams. He screams so loud I can feel every syllable rip through my eardrums, and my stomach drops so violently my bladder contracts as if it wants to empty itself. But I will not be intimidated. Not by him. Not again. And even though every instinct in me is shouting that I look away, I don’t. I won’t.
Screeching tires startle us both, and Nunzio jerks his head to the side, my gaze following out the back window, sharp headlights heading straight toward us.
Nicoli.
Relief swooshes through me, but it’s short-lived as I realize that hell is about to break loose, and Nicoli is going to get himself caught in the middle of it.
Nunzio barks out orders, running in the other direction. But it’s so fucking dark, I can’t see farther than a few feet away from the car.
The SUV comes to a stop, smoke bleeding from the tires and in the path of the headlights. Gunshots start going off like thunder, and I clap my palms over my ears, trying to push out the noise. My heart can’t take it. I’m paralyzed by the fear that Nicoli might get hurt. How could he not? It’s raining bullets, and it’s happening so fast, in such a blur, I have no idea what the hell is going on.
My breath compresses in my throat as my chest rises and falls rapidly, panic clawing so deep into my lungs that I’m sure I’ll suffocate.
More gunshots and more screams.
My eyes dart around frantically as I hold my palms tight over my ears. Where is he? Where is Nicoli?
“Nicoli!” My voice is shrill and fills the air, but no one can hear me. “Nicoli!”
Abruptly, the shooting stops, and Nicoli’s voice shatters the eerie silence as he screams my name. “Mira!”
“Nicoli,” I say, panicked. “I’m here.” I move to the back seat, leaning closer to the rear window to try and see through the dark, to see if he’s okay. That’s when I hear it again…the tap tap tap against the passenger window. Cold dread slithers down my spine, knotting in my stomach as I slowly turn. Tears break free, sliding down my cheeks when I see him…Nicoli, standing by the window…with Nunzio’s gun against his head.
“No.” The word leaves my fucking soul, and I realize I’ve never felt fear before now. All those times I’ve been scared before don’t compare to what I’m feeling right now.
“Don’t hurt him,” I whimper, my voice breaking as dread fills my lungs. “Please don’t hurt him.”
“Then get out of the fucking car,” Nunzio spits out, pressing the barrel of his gun deeper into Nicoli’s temple, two of his men taking position behind him.
There’s no hesitation on my part. There is nothing to think about. Nothing to assess or analyze. I’ll do whatever the hell he says to stop the worst from happening.
“Fine,” I say, sliding closer to the door and wrapping my fingers around the handle. “I’ll get out.” I unlock the door, the sound almost as threatening as a gunshot.
Nicoli shakes his head at me, his top lip curled in a snarl. “Mira, run. Don’t listen to him.” But I don’t have a choice. I’ve never had a choice when it comes to him. I didn’t choose to love him. I just do. I didn’t choose to have this bond with him. It just happened. And just like now, I don’t choose to save him. I have to.
A gust of icy air claws through me as I open the door, sinking deep into my marrow like icicles, but it’s not the cold that sends shivers up my spine. It’s him. The man whose face represents the most bottomless pits of Hell. The man who my hate gravitates to like a magnet. It courses through me like poison, burning hotter than his blade parting my skin.
“Mira, no,” Nicoli bites out, but Nunzio tightens his grip on Nicoli’s arms behind his back, pressing the gun harder against his face.
Nunzio sucks air through his teeth as I straighten out of the car. “Jesus, birdie. You’re even hotter than I remember.”
“You motherfucker!” Nicoli thrashes.
“Nah-ah,” Nunzio warns. “I won’t just kill you, Del Rossa.” He looks at one of his men standing a few feet away, his gun aimed at me. “Picture this scenario,” Nunzio starts. “Let’s say you can overpower me here, fight me and get your hands on my gun, your little wife here will be dead by then. You think you can manage to get control over this situation faster than a bullet can blow your wife’s goddamn brains out?”
“You won’t kill her.” Nicoli’s nostrils flare, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His anger, the rage, it’s palpable. “She’s pregnant, and you won’t hurt her until you know who the father is.”
“If you, by some miracle, happen to put a bullet in my head tonight, it won’t fucking matter whether she’s carrying my child or not. So I dare you, Nicoli. Try me. See if I’m fucking bluffing.”
My eyes lock with Nicoli’s, and a knowing look passes between us. As bitter as it is to swallow, neither of us has a choice. Nicoli won’t let anything happen to me, and I will do anything and everything to make sure he doesn’t get hurt.
Nunzio’s slimy gaze rakes down my body and his tongue darts out like a serpent’s, licking his lips. “Between you and me,” he murmurs close to Nicoli’s ear, “I’m going to love getting reacquainted with your wife’s body.”
“Motherfucker!” Nicoli’s barely breathes as rage consumes him.
A sinister grin spreads across Nunzio’s face, and I can see the physical pain his words cause Nicoli, his face contorted with so much rage, it’s almost too much to witness.
“Go to hell,” I spit at Nunzio, struggling to keep my voice steady. My hands curl into fists at my sides, the nails digging into my palms as I fight the urge to lash out at him.
“Feisty,” he chuckles. “I’ve missed that fire in your eyes.”
Nicoli growls. “Nunzio, I swear to God, I’m going to—”
“What? You’re going to what? Kill me? I think that will be hard to do since I’m the one holding a gun to your head.”
“Let him go, Nunzio. You want me, so let Nicoli go.”
“Mira,” Nicoli warns through clenched teeth. “Don’t do this. Do not get in that fucking car.” The desperation in his voice is heartbreaking, and I hate it.
I pin my gaze on him, and I hope he can see how much I love him, how this isn’t even a decision. For me, there is no other option than to obey Nunzio’s every command if it means saving Nicoli.
“Birdie, how about you let Manuel here escort you to the car.” One of the guards steps out from behind him, his savage glare pinned on me and his gun raised. “As much as I love playing with all of you, I really want to go home. It’s way past my bedtime.”
“What about my husband?”
“I’ll let him go as soon as I see the taillight of Manuel’s car with you in it. Not a second earlier.”
“No.” I pull my lips in a straight line. “I don’t trust you.”
“Good. You shouldn’t.”
“Let Nicoli go.”
“Or what?” he taunts, raising an eyebrow. “You’ll stomp your heels and throw a hissy fit, princess?”
“Fuck you,” I snarl, my blood boiling with rage.
“Such a dirty mouth,” Nunzio muses, his eyes raking over me like he’s deciding which part of me to break first. “Imagine how dirty it will be with my cock down your throat.”
Nicoli thrashes, cursing. “If you touch her I swear to God I will fucking rip your spleen out of your goddamn throat.”
“You have a big fucking mouth for someone who has a gun to his head.”
“You think I give a shit about my life? You think I’m afraid of you pulling that trigger and shooting me?” Nicoli lets out a malicious cackle. “You really are a dumb fuck, aren’t you?”
“Nicoli, stop,” I urge, fear surging with a violent spike in my chest.
“The only reason I’m not shoving this gun up your ass right now, Nunzio, is because of her.”
“Aw, that’s admirable. Really.” Nunzio taps the gun tauntingly on Nicoli’s forehead. “But between you and me, I think that makes you the dumb fuck, and not me.” Nunzio’s expression hardens. “To the car, birdie, or I’m pulling this goddamn trigger.”
“Fine. I’ll go to the car, and he can put that gun against my head, but I am not getting in that car until you let Nicoli go.”
“You are not in a position to bargain with me, birdie. You are going to get your ass in that car, and Manuel will drive you away, and only then will I let hubby go.”
“Surely you can see how that’s not a fair trade.”
“Do I look like someone who trades fairly?”
I place my palm firmly on my stomach. “Do you want to know if this baby is yours? Because if you hurt my husband in any way, I swear to God I will drive a knife inside my belly the second I get the chance.”
Nunzio’s eyes widen, forming grooves on his forehead. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
He studies me for a moment, eyes roving over me, contemplating. Nicoli is staring at me, silently screaming at me to walk away, but there’s no chance of that happening. If we go down today, we’re going down together.
“Fine,” Nunzio snaps. “You’ll walk over to Manuel, and you—” He jerks Nicoli against him. “You will fucking behave because if you don’t, Manuel will shoot her in the fucking face. And I’d really hate to see that happen because your wife has a really, really pretty face.”
Nicoli snarls, the vein in his neck throbbing, his chest rising and falling heavily. “Don’t do this, Mira. Don’t get in that damn car,” he urges, struggling against Nunzio’s hold. “Get the fuck out of here!”
Tears sting my eyes, my soul silently weeping as I witness the desperation in his eyes. I know the thought of me going with Nunzio is worse than facing death for my husband. But losing him, existing in a world where he isn’t, it’s a reality I can’t comprehend. One I refuse to accept. I would rather live a lifetime as Nunzio’s captive than know I exist in a world where Nicoli doesn’t.
“On second thought, Manuel, get your ass over here.”
I pause as I narrow my eyes at Nunzio.
“Keep your gun aimed at the back of his head,” Nunzio orders, Manuel’s gun is now pressing against Nicoli’s skull as Nunzio steps away. The smile he gives me sends shivers of revulsion down my spine. “I’ll be escorting you out of here.”
The second his hand wraps around my arm, a violent surge of nausea explodes in my gut. His touch burns, like acid on my flesh, and I’m trying hard to swallow the bile threatening to push up my throat.
“Walk,” he orders, and for a second I freeze, glaring at him, feeling the hate rise to new heights. The need to see him suffer is pressing hot against my skull. I want to see every drop of blood drain from his body. I want to see the holes in his face after I cut his eyes out, and I want to smell the rancid stench of him pissing himself with fear—fear of me.
Movement in the distance catches my attention, and under an old, flickering light, I glimpse Maximo’s features and he’s pointing to the top of the building behind me before he disappears into the darkness again.
I suck in a breath, trying so damn hard not to look in Maximo’s direction for longer than a second, not wanting to draw any attention his way. Manuel and the other guard have their backs turned toward where Maximo is hiding, and Nunzio has his gaze pinned on me. I have no idea what he’s planning, but no matter what it is, I have to do what needs to be done, right here, right now—and that’s giving myself up so I can save my husband.
