“She’s being held,” I said aloud, to no one. Then louder–to the silence that filled my penthouse like smoke. “She wouldn’t send that unless she was forced to.”
I stood. Poured a drink. Neat. No ice. Let the burn settle in my chest.
And then I saw her again–Scarlett at university.
Lolliop in her hand, books under one arm, hair a mess and eyes like fire. She always sat three rows from the front.
I watched her for months before I spoke.
She never smiled unless it was cruel.
And fuck, how I loved her.
Loved the way she made silence feel like a threat.
The way she let no one in–but let me circle closer and closer like a storm she hadn’t decided to strike with yet. That woman was mine.
Still was.
I pulled out my phone. Dialed directly to my inner circle.
“Find my wife,” I said. Voice low. Flat. Absolute. “You have one hour. If she’s not found by then…” I looked out the window, city lights blinking like prey. “The sun won’t rise for any of you again. I’ll burn this fucking skyline down to cinders.”
I hung up. The knock came minutes later.
Not a real knock.
The soft knock of someone pretending to be delicate. Someone playing at innocence.
Alina.
She slipped in like perfume. Dressed in some silk that clung like desperation. Eyes rimmed with tears she practiced in the mirror.
“Zacharias…” she breathed, shutting the door behind her like she belonged here. “I–I just wanted to see if you were okay. I know this must be hard for you. She doesn’t deserve you, you know.”
She came closer. Pressed a hand to my chest. “Let me make it better. I can be what you need. What you always needed.”
She tilted her face up–lips parted, eyes wide. Waiting. Begging.
I let her kiss me.
70 48
78%
Once.
Twice.
Felt the frantic pull of her lips, the way her hands slid down to my belt. And then I grabbed her.
One hand around her throat. Firm. Controlled. Not cruel–yet.
She gasped, legs trembling. “Zacharias—”
“You always tasted like lies,” I said quietly. “Even when I was stupid enough to believe you were sweet.”
Her eyes filled with panic. She clawed at my wrist, not enough to stop me, not enough to push me.
“Me amore,” she whispered, tears spilling. “It’s me. Alina. The one you really love. You can feel it, can’t you? You always could. I’m here now. I came back for you. We can still be happy. Let her go. Let me in.”
I leaned in, voice a razor.
“You don’t get to say her name.”
Then I dropped her.
She stumbled back, hand to her neck, mouth trembling.
“You want to be useful?” I asked, smoothing my cuffs. “Tell Winston Salerno that if he touched a single hair on my wife’s head…” I looked her dead in the eyes. “I’ll carve my initials into his spine before I burn him alive.”
Alina’s breath hitched.
“Leave before I forgot you’re my wife’s half sister.”
I walked past her, to the window again.
Phone still in hand.
My voice, when I spoke into it, was ice.
“She’s alive. Keep looking.”
The sky outside didn’t know it yet.
But tonight, I would redraw the horizon in blood.
★★★
The call came just past midnight.
Rico’s voice was tight with adrenaline. “We got her.”
My heart stopped–then came back swinging.
Chapter 22
12:29 Mon, 19 May GM •
“Where?” I asked, already on my feet, already moving.
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“Coastal estate. West of Viacenza. Registered to a dead man, but the paper trail loops back to a shell owned by Winston Salerno.”
Of course.
That bastard. That slippery, bloodsucking, cowardly little parasite.
I knew it. I knew the moment I saw that divorce letter. She didn’t send that to
leave me–she sent it because she wasn’t allowed to scream.
I turned toward my weapons cabinet. Input the code, let the locks release with a hiss like a serpent uncoiling.
My hands didn’t shake as I reached for the blade.
Eight inches. Carbon steel. Hilt wrapped in black leather. My favorite. Her name was engraved under the hilt in silver- Scarlett, not in cursive but in the sharp lettering she carved into the world.
I stared at it a moment.
“I’m bringing my wife home,” I whispered to the knife. “Burn the rest.”
Then I grabbed the gun. Loaded. Cocked. Secured.
I stepped out into the corridor where my men were already waiting. All in black. Silent. Waiting for my word.
“We move quiet. No mercy. No hesitation,” I said, voice a slow snarl. “We’re not knocking. We’re not announcing. We’re ghosts.”
They nodded. They knew.
“This isn’t just a job,” I added. “This is personal. Winston took what’s mine. That makes him dead already–he just doesn’t know it yet.”
I slid on my jacket, every button a promise.
“Anyone who gets in the way dies on sight. The girl is the only thing that leaves that place breathing.”
I headed for the car–my custom matte black beast. No plates. No tags. Engine that purred like a predator.
As I slid into the driver’s seat, the world outside went still.
I didn’t feel tired. I didn’t feel scared.
All I felt was fire.
Scarlett’s face, bruised and furious in my mind. Her voice, the one she only used with me–half venom, half vow.
Chapter 22
3/4 80.6%
12:30 Mon, 19 May G M
No one gets to hurt her.
No one gets to cage her.
And no one lives after they try.
I
As I drove through the sleeping city, I could almost smell the blood waiting.
And I would spill it gladly.
Because tonight?
The wolf was off the leash.
And I was coming for what was mine.
