We shoot past the pillar I was pinned against moments ago. I see the smear of tire on concrete where the other car fishtailed and swallow hard.
Nico’s jaw is set, hands steady on the wheel. “Breathe,” he says, eyes on the ramp as we climb. “I’ve got you.”
“Are you hurt anywhere?”
“Umm, my-my shoulder,” I say. “It’s not bad, though. Just a bit sore.”
“Any pain that’s not your shoulder?”
“My pride,” I say, and the joke feels wrong. “My— I’m fine.” I put a hand over my stomach without thinking. “I’m fine.”
His eyes drop, noticing the gesture, and heat flares in them. Anger at the car? At me for not moving faster?
“How did you— Were you just here?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says and doesn’t elaborate.
We hit daylight at the mouth of the garage and burst onto the street, the city swallowing us whole.
Chapter Twenty Nine
Luca
I wear a path between the windows and the mantel, the tick of the clock too slow for my liking. The house has its own noises—the filter of the pool, the AC running, the fountain whispering as water falls—but every sound makes me more impatient.
“Anything?” I call toward the hall.
Giovanni steps in from the office, phone to his ear. He shakes his head once and keeps listening. He’s already spinning plates—exterior cams at her building, traffic cams on the block, our own eyes on the surrounding streets. I ordered the loops tighter after the ultrasound. I didn’t think we’d need them this soon.
Vito appears in the doorway, restless as a storm front. “Gate detail’s doubled. Perimeter’s clean. I’ve got a spotter at the turnoff.”
It’s not enough. It never feels like enough.
On the sideboard, her ultrasound prints sit where I left them after lunch. I can still hear that fast little rhythm if I let myself.
“Where are they?” I say again, like repetition might get me answers faster.
“Nico said they’re on the way, and we’ve got her phone on the move,” Giovanni says, covering the receiver. “Left her garage ten minutes ago. We picked it up on city cams two blocks later.”
Some of the pressure vents, not enough. “Is she hurt?”
“Nico said she’s fine, but that’s all I know. Three minutes out,” he adds, listening. “Maybe two.”
Two minutes is forever.
I turn, cross to the window. The lawn is alight with the strong afternoon sun. It feels wrong. Beyond the hedges: walls, gates, men I trust with my life.
Vito rubs his thumb hard over his knuckles. “Do we know who it was?” he asks.
“Find out,” I bark out.
He nods once, jaw tight. He wants to already be out there with his hands around someone’s throat. So do I.
I want to call, just to hear her voice. But there’s no use for that right now.
Giovanni ends his call. “Gate in one,” he says.
I walk toward the foyer and make myself slow down before I hit the marble so I don’t scare her with what’s in me right now. Vito flanks my right, Giovanni on my left, the three of us falling into a familiar formation.
