Or is Blackwood gone rogue, frustrated that he hasn’t brought La Corona down?
Or maybe there’s someone else I haven't considered.
Either way, I'm back to square one, with my son's life hanging in the balance.
The crack of a gunshot shatters the night.
I'm moving before my mind fully registers the sound, instinct propelling me through the door and into the darkness.
I sprint toward where Gio disappeared moments ago.
"Gio!" I shout, drawing my weapon.
I round his car and stop dead. Gio's body lies sprawled on the pavement, a dark stain spreading beneath him.
His eyes stare sightlessly at the stars, mouth frozen in permanent surprise. One clean shot to the head. Professional, efficient.
"Fuck." I drop to my knees beside him, checking for a pulse I know isn't there.
Suddenly, I wonder if Gio is a part of this and someone just eliminated the ability for him to talk?
No doubt, Dom will assume I executed his man in retaliation for Rocco's kidnapping. The implications cascade through my mind as I dial Dom’s number.
Dom answers on the second ring. "Tell me you found Rocco."
“Gio’s dead.” I cut straight to it. "Someone put a bullet in his head right after I let him walk."
Silence stretches between us. Then, "You expect me to believe that?"
"I don't give a fuck what you believe," I snap. "Someone is fucking around with us and they still have my son."
ELENA
I jolt awake, terror coursing through me even before I remember why.
Then it hits me—Rocco.
My baby is gone.
The digital clock on Luca's nightstand reads4:17 AM. I haven't slept more than twenty minutes at a stretch since the kidnapping.
Adalina and Elio lie curled against each other like puppies, their faces peaceful in sleep.
I check my phone, hoping Luca had called or texted to tell me he’s found Rocco alive and unhurt.
But there’s nothing except a message from Gabriella saying she and Isabella had to return home.
Of course they did.
They have their own babies to attend to.
I slide carefully from bed, making sure not to disturb them.
I head downstairs toward the kitchen, drawn by the need for coffee. I need to be alert when Luca returns. If he returns.
I measure coffee grounds with shaking hands, spilling some onto the marble countertop. The machine hums to life, its soft gurgling the only sound in the large kitchen.
Should I call Luca?
