"Yesterday. The De Lucas found footage from the mall. Security cameras. They saw everything." Rafael pauses. "It got ugly.Salvatore threatened to pull all support. The alliance is dead. Matteo sent Isabella away to keep her out of the crossfire."
"Where in Europe?"
"I don't know. He didn't tell anyone. Just her and Alessia and probably one or two guards." Another pause. "Enzo, you need to let this go. At least for now. Matteo is—he's not in a good place. The De Lucas are furious, the O'Rourkes are circling, and he blames you for all of it."
"He should blame me. It is my fault."
"That's not the point. The point is if you come back right now, he's going to kill you. Actually kill you. And I can't protect you from that."
"I don't need protection from Matteo."
"Enzo—"
"I need to see him. I need to talk to him. I need to—" I stop because my voice is breaking and I can't afford to break, not now, not when I need to be functional. "I need to fix this, Rafael."
"You can't fix this. Not yet. Give him time. Give yourself time. Let the situation cool down and then?—"
"No." I stand up and start pulling on my jacket. "I'm coming in. Today. Now. Tell him I want to talk."
"He won't agree to that."
"Then don't tell him. Just let me in the gates. I'll handle the rest."
"This is a fucking bad idea."
"I don't care."
Rafael is quiet for a long moment. "If I do this, if I let you in, I can't protect you. You understand that? Whatever happens when you walk into that house, you're on your own."
"I understand."
"And you're still coming?"
"Fuck, yes."
He sighs, long and resigned. "Gates will be open in two hours. Come to the back entrance. I'll make sure the guards let you through. After that you're on your own."
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me. This is probably the stupidest thing I've ever helped someone do." He pauses. "Good luck, brother. You're going to need it."
He hangs up.
I stand in the middle of the motel room and look at myself in the mirror above the dresser.
I look like hell. Three days of not sleeping properly, not eating, just sitting and thinking and spiraling. My jaw is still bruised from where Matteo hit me. My side aches where the knife wound is still healing. I look like exactly what I am.
A man who lost everything that matters.
I grab my keys and head for the door.
The drive back to the compound takes thirty minutes and I spend all of them trying to figure out what I'm going to say to Matteo, how I'm going to make him understand, how I'm going to convince him to tell me where Isabella is.
I don't find the right words.
By the time I pull up to the back gate I still have nothing except the truth.
Maybe that will be enough.
