The door opens with a groan of rusted hinges, and my entire body tenses despite the way it makes the pain flare.
Salvatore Romano walks in like he owns the place. Which he probably does.
He’s still dressed impeccably. A different suit than before, charcoal gray with a burgundy tie. He moves with the confidence of a man who’s never faced real consequences for anything he’s done.
“Giuliana,” he says my name with false warmth. “How are we feeling today?”
I don’t answer without my voice coming out weak and trembling, and I won’t give him that satisfaction.
He moves closer, pulling over a metal folding chair that scrapes against the concrete floor with a sound that makes me shiver. He settles into it with the ease of someone visiting a friend, not someone who shot me and is keeping me prisoner.
“The doctor says you’re healing well,” he continues, like we’re discussing the weather as he crosses one leg over the other. “The wound is clean. No infection yet. With proper care, you should survive this.” He pauses, his cold blue eyes studying my face. “For now.”
The“for now”hangs in the air between us.
“Why?” I ask, my voice hoarse from all the screaming. “Why are you doing this?”
Romano’s smile widens. “Because, my dear, you’re the perfect bait. The one thing that will make Luca Marchetti walk willingly into a trap.” He leans forward, uncrosses his legs and places his elbows on his knees. “Do you know what it’s like, watching someone build an empire that threatens yours? Knowing that if you don’t act, they’ll eventually consume everything you’ve worked for?”
I close my eyes, trying to block him out, but his voice continues.
“Marco was supposed to be easy to handle. The brains of the operation, yes, but also the conscience. The one who believed in honor and loyalty and all those quaint notions that get people killed in our world.” He laughs, and the sound makes my skin crawl. “But Luca—Luca was the real threat. The weapon. The one who’d burn down entire city blocks for revenge.”
My eyes open again, fixing on his face. “So you tried to kill him,” I say flatly.
“I tried to eliminate a problem before it became unmanageable.” Romano shrugs, like ordering someone’s murder is just good business sense. “Your father was supposed to provide intelligence about when Luca would be at that shipment meeting. But Antonio fucked it up.” His expression hardens. “Gave me the schedule when Lucawasn’tthere. When only Marco showed up.”
“My father was forced,” I say through gritted teeth, even though defending him feels hollow now. “You threatened him. Beat him. Used his weakness against him.”
“Of course I did.” Romano sounds almost amused. “That’s what weak people arefor, Giuliana. They’re tools. Leverage. Your father’s gambling addiction made him perfect. Desperate enough to believe my lies about just needing information to ‘catch a criminal,’ stupid enough not to ask too many questions.”
Rage burns through the pain, hot and sharp. “You destroyed his life,” I snarl. “You used him and then?—”
“I gave him exactly what he deserved,” Romano interrupts coldly. “He made his choices, just like you made yours. Keeping my identity secret for three years?Verysmart. Self-preservationat its finest.” His smile returns. “But also very stupid, because now you’re here, and that secret doesn’t help you anymore.”
The zip ties cut into my wrists as I unconsciously try to pull against them. The movement sends fresh agony through my chest, and I have to bite back a scream.
Romano notices. Of course he notices.
“Does it hurt?” he asks with false sympathy. “The gunshot wound? I imagine it’s quite painful, even with the medication.” He leans forward more and claps a hand on my shoulder, causing pain to radiate through me. I clamp my lips together, but a strangled cry comes out of them. “But don’t worry—the doctor will be back to check on you soon. I need you alive and relatively healthy for when your husband arrives.”
“Luca won’t come,” I lie, gasping through the pain, even though we both know it’s not true. “He hates me now. He knows I lied to him about you. He’ll?—”
“He’ll tear Chicago apart looking for you.” Romano stands, moving to the window to look out at whatever view this warehouse offers. “In fact, he’s already started. My men are reporting quite the rampage. Buildings burned, soldiers tortured, operations destroyed.” He turns back to me, genuine satisfaction in his expression. “He’s doing exactly what I expected. Exhausting himself, making enemies, following the trail I’ve been leaving.”
My heart sinks. “You’ve been leading him here.”
“Of course.” Romano’s smile is positively gloating. “It’s all carefully orchestrated to guide him toward this warehouse. The same place his beloved Marco died. Full circle, don’t you think?”
The casual cruelty of it steals my breath. This entire thing has been a game to him. My kidnapping, Luca’s desperate search, the trail of bodies and destruction—all of it done to lead to this moment.
“When he gets here,” Romano continues, moving back toward the door, “I’m going to make him watch while you die. Just like he watched the city burn while searching for you.” His hand rests on the doorknob. “And then, when he’s completely broken and there’s nothing left of the man he was, then I’ll kill him too.”
“You’re a monster,” I whisper, horrified. How could I ever have called Luca a monster when a true one stands in front of me?
Romano rolls his eyes. “I’m a businessman,” he corrects. “Eliminating competition is just good sense. The fact that I get to destroy Luca Marchetti in the process?” He shrugs. “That’s just a bonus.”
The door closes behind him, the sound of a lock engaging echoing through the empty space.
