One… two… three…
My breaths slow by fractions. The panic loosens its fist—but it doesn’t leave. It never does.
“Beatrice.” His voice is clipped, tight, too controlled. “Are you okay?”
I lift my head. Tears blur my vision. The world wavers around me, and fear slides into my bones like ice water.
“Daniele,” I choke out. “Where—where is he?” I push off Valerio’s chest, stumbling to my feet. “Giacomo—he was—he wants—oh my God, I need to get to my son!”
“Beatrice, hey—look at me.” Valerio grabs my arms, steadying me, grounding me.
“He’s safe. I have four guards with him already. He’s in the car waiting for you. He’s fine, Bea. I promise.”
The words hit like oxygen. My lungs expand. A fraction of the terror eases.
My son is safe.
Valerio’s eyes darken. “You need to tell me what the hell happened. How did he get you all the way out here?”
“He… he…”My throat closes around every word. “I was getting ice cream and then—he was there. He had a knife. I couldn’t—fuck—I should’ve fought him. I should’ve run. I just—froze.”
“It’s okay,” he says, though his jaw flexes hard enough to crack. “Did he hurt you? What did he say?”
I swallow. Hard. My voice fractures when I force the truth out.
“No, he… I’m okay.”
The words scrape out of me, thin and brittle.
Valerio’s jaw tightens. “Bea…”
The softness in his voice—so rare, so unguarded—cracks something open in my chest. My lips start to tremble, then my hands. I try to hold myself together, but I can’t.
I fold,and he’s there instantly, arms locking around me, solid and sure. A broken sound slips out of me—half breath, half cry—and I cling to him because I need something steady when I’m not.
“What did he say?”he asks again, quieter, like he already fears the answer.
I fist his jacket and press my forehead into him. My voice is barely a breath.
“He knows.”
Valerio goes still. Every muscle. Every breath.
“About Daniele,” I whisper. “He knows he’s not Matteo’s.”
“Jesus Christ.” His head snaps toward the park, scanning the tree line, the exits, the shadows—like Giacomo might step out again.
I grab his wrist, hard enough to make him look at me.
“Please. Don’t tell Matteo.”
His expression freezes. “Beatrice?—”
“If you tell him,he’ll go after Giacomo. He’ll chase him head-on. And that’s exactly what Giacomo wants. He wants to drag him into a war, Valerio. He wants him exposed. Matteo will walk straight into it, and I’ll lose him. Daniele will lose him. And if there’s a war… I could lose Daniele too.”
His eyes lock onto mine. Conflicted. Torn. Bleeding loyalty on both sides.
He’s Matteo’s second. His shield. His sword. But he’s also my friend. And he knows Giacomo doesn’t fight clean. He knows this is a trap wrapped in blood.
