Page 60 of Bianchi

Cazzo! I should have done a better job at protecting her. I shouldn’t have let her go. I release him and Angelo crumples back into his chair. There is nobody more at fault for whatever happens to her than me. Punishing Angelo will not bring her back.

I move to the couch, dropping into it and holding my head in my hands, rage and fear swirling around inside me like a tornado about to obliterate everything in its path. “Show me your phone,” Massimo demands.

I lift my head, watching as Angelo unlocks it and hands it over without question. Massimo searches through it. Lifting his eyes to mine, he doesn’t hide the sympathy in his gaze. “There’s nothing there, Rome. Not a single call or message to the number that called the house. Or anyone outside of our men, for that matter. The last message he received was from Aldo asking where he was because he needed him to cover Dante.”

I slump back, my head knocking on the back of the couch as I stare up at the ceiling. My mind runs through every scenario before I speak, “Have Callum go through it.”

A knock on the door cuts off Massimo’s protests. When he calls out, Aldo enters. Angelo seizes the opportunity to leave, placing his phone on Massimo’s desk as he passes. I let him walk away because I can’t trust myself not to kill him right here and watch his blood spill across Massimo’s office floor. Right now, I need to focus on finding Aurora, then I can make sure Angelo gets what he deserves.

Aldo inclines his head before handing over a manila folder to Massimo. “I’ve found something, boss.”

Hope blooms in my chest, my eyes darting between Aldo and the folder in Massimo’s hand. “About Aurora? Do you know who’s behind this?” I hate how desperate I sound.

He doesn’t meet my gaze, his focus firmly on Massimo as my cousin opens the file. “This is about the rat.”

I watch the surprise register on Massimo’s face as he slams the file shut, his eyes widening and his jaw going slack. His fingers bend the edges of the folder where he’s gripping it so tightly, and when I move toward him, he pulls it to his chest. There’s something in that folder that he doesn’t want me to know. And I suspect it’s something to do with Aurora based on the way my stomach has hit the floor.

Massimo clears his throat, shaking himself out of his stupor. “Thank you, Aldo. Can you find Leonardo and Daniele and ask them to come here?”

Without a word, Aldo leaves, the door clicking shut behind him. I close the distance between us, tapping my knuckles on the mahogany desk. “What does the file say, Massimo?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling heavily as he meets my stare. “I’m so sorry, Rome.” Running a hand through his hair, he drops back into his seat, sliding the folder onto the desk in front of him.

“What are you sorry for?” His eyes fill with an emotion I can’t name, urging me on. “Is she dead? Did they kill her?”

Surely they’d have made a demand? If they wanted to get to me, they’d have?—

Massimo’s words cut off my inner rambling. There’s a harshness underpinning his words when he huffs, “No, but you might.”

A groove forms between my brows, and I can’t quite put the pieces together. My frustration at Massimo and his lack of explanation overflows and I growl, “I need you to tell me what the fuck is in that file. Now.”

Reluctantly, Massimo opens it and removes a piece of paper from the top, sliding it toward me. “There’s call data from the housephone and CCTV stills of Aurora making a call the night you took her out to dinner.”

I pick up the sheet, collapsing into the chair as my eyes bounce over the text. Blinking, I lift my focus to him. “Who did she call?”

He doesn’t answer me. Instead, he’s looking at the picture in front of him, keeping me from seeing it. Banging my fist on the desk, I demand, “Who did she fucking call, Massimo?”

Swallowing thickly, he blows out a defeated sigh, finally lifting his eyes to mine. “It looks like a number connected to the Bratva. The call lasted thirty seconds. I’m sorry, Rome.”

He’s sorry because the woman I brought into this house, the one I couldn’t bring myself to kill, is the one that’s fucked us over. On more than one occasion. That realization is more painful than any bullet I’ve ever taken. She’s played me. I’ve fallen for her feigned innocence like a fool.

Everything’s been a lie.

Every single moment we shared was a lie.

But there’s one thing I know for certain: if the Bratva don’t kill her, I fucking will.

Chapter 38

Aurora

The cell door creaks open, and I roll my head in the direction of the sound. A burly man enters, a skull mask covering his face. His presence is menacing and I bolt up, swinging my legs over the edge of the cot to be better prepared for a fight—not that I stand a chance.

He stands on the threshold, one hand resting on a gun holstered on his hip. “Stand. Hands on the wall,” he barks, his tone gruff and commanding.

This isn’t either of the guys that came by earlier. His accent is much thicker and there’s more of an edge to his words. Aside from kidnapping me, there’s something off about him.

On shaky legs, I stand and face the wall, pressing my hands to the coarse brick. His footsteps are like a countdown to impending doom and with each step he takes, my body tenses even more. When he’s standing behind me, I can smell the vodka and feel a sense of foreboding before he yanks a hood over my head. The force has his hands slamming into my shoulders and my knees buckle beneath me before I catch myself, pressing my body into the wall.

---