Page 91 of Malevolent Secrets

He shrugs. “You don’t have a choice, Duretti. If you want her back alive, you’ll listen.”

Every muscle in my body is taut with tension. “Fine. Let’s hear it.”

He gestures for us to follow him inside. My men and I move cautiously, eyes scanning for any signs of danger. The warehouse is dimly lit and the air is thick with the smell of oil and rust.

We reach a large open space where Massimo is waiting, flanked by his men. Daniella is there too, her hands tied behind her back, a bruise forming on her cheek.

My heart aches at the sight of her, but I force myself to stay calm.

“Let her go,” I say, my voice steady.

“Not so fast,” Massimo replies, a malicious glint in his eyes. “We have some business to discuss first.”

“What do you want?” I ask, trying to keep my rage in check.

“Your territory. Your businesses. Everything you own.”

“Fuck you,” I spit. “You think I’ll just hand everything over to you?”

Massimo laughs. “You will if you want her to live.”

I take a step forward, my eyes locked on his. “You harm a single hair on her head and I will tear you apart piece by piece.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Big words, Duretti. But words won’t save her. Besides, you all owe me. I was supposed to marry Renee. I was supposed to be part of your family. But you all went back on your word. Now you will pay.”

Before I can respond, there’s a gunshot. The sound echoes through the warehouse.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Daniella

The ride with Victor feels like an eternity.

My heart races as the car speeds down unfamiliar roads, the scenery blurring past. I try to make sense of what’s happening, but my mind is a jumbled mess of fear and confusion.

Victor remains silent, his expression unreadable. I know something is terribly wrong, and the knot of dread in my stomach tightens with every passing second.

We finally arrive at a dilapidated warehouse on the outskirts of town. Victor pulls the car to a stop and I feel a shiver run down my spine.

He gets out and opens my door, his grip on my arm firm as he drags me inside. The interior is dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of oil and rust. Men mill about, their eyes following me with unsettling interest.

“Move,” Victor snaps, pushing me forward.

I stumble, but manage to keep my balance. As we enter a large open space, I see Massimo standing there, a cruel smile spreading across his face.

“Well, well, little mouse,” he says, his voice dripping with mockery. “I guess you played my game and you played it well.”

I frown, trying to keep my voice steady. “What are you talking about?”

He laughs, the sound echoing off the walls. “You were just a pawn in my game. I sent you to Lorenzo on purpose. I knew he was a sucker for sob stories.”

I’m taken aback. “What?”

Massimo’s eyes gleam with malice. “He’s always been a sucker for sob stories. That’s one thing that’s never changed about him.”

My mind races with questions. What is the connection between Massimo and Lorenzo? Why does Massimo hate him so much?

“You’ll be fine as long as you do everything we tell you to do,” Massimo says, his tone turning menacing.

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