Page 34 of Silent Night with Massimo

I’ve had enough of his games. He never intended to tell me where my son was. His plan had been simple: keep stringing me along, hoping the assassin would kill me before I got close to the truth.

"Did you plan to escape? After they killed me?" I snarl darkly, the words a low growl rumbling from deep in my chest.

Elio has the audacity to chuckle, a sick, twisted sound that only serves to enrage me more.

"And what would have happened to your son then?" he sneers, a gleam of malice in his eyes.

The room goes silent, as if the air has been sucked outby his vile taunt. My son. He dares to bring him up—dare to toy with me like this. I move forward, intent on crushing every last breath from his lungs, but Vera grabs my jacket, holding me back with both hands, her voice trembling with urgency.

"Don't—don't kill him," she begs, her fingers curling into the fabric, pulling me back from the brink.

Adrian doesn’t hold back though. With a swift punch, he drives his fist into Elio’s already broken nose. The sound is sickening—flesh and bone crunching under the force. Elio squeals like a pig, his voice high-pitched and filled with agony.

I take a deep breath, trying to control the hurricane of rage swirling inside me.

I want to kill him.

God knows I want to.

But right now, he's the only lead we have.

"Where is my son?" I demand again, my voice colder, deadlier.

Elio, still wincing from the punch, wipes blood from his face and smiles a little, as though he’s proud of the torment he’s caused.

"Your son was set to become the heir of your enemy’s estate. Imagine if one day you were fighting your own blood without even knowing it." His voice is dripping with cruel satisfaction.

I clench my fists so tightly my knuckles crack. "How do you know you haven't walked past your son a hundred times?" he adds with a sneer.

I can’t take this anymore. The thought of my son, hidden, manipulated, growing up without knowing who he is—it’s unbearable. I look towards my brother, the decision made in my mind.

"Kill him," I say through gritted teeth. "He's never going to talk."

Adrian moves immediately, reaching into his jacket to grab his gun. But before he can pull the trigger, Elio’s face pales, and he stammers quickly, his voice shaking with sudden fear. "No. No! Wait!"

He knows his time is up.

I lean forward, my voice cold and unyielding. "Speak. Now. Or I'll kill you and find another way to reach my son."

The weight of my words crashes down on him. Elio trembles, his arrogance crumbling as he realizes how serious I am.

"I'll take you to your son," he finally says, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Where is he?" I snarl.

"Drive towards the docks of the frozen lake. There’s a hideout between the warehouses, well-hidden. That’s where he is," Elio mutters, his eyes darting around, avoiding my gaze. There's fear in them now, real fear.

"The docks?" Vera’s voice breaks, filled with disbelief. "Not in a house, somewhere safe?" She’s struggling to hold back tears, her heart breaking at the thought of our son being kept in some cold, grimy place, far from the safety and love he should have known.

I turn to Elio, my voice tight with barely-contained fury. "Was our son kept in a prison?"

Elio shrugs, a pathetic attempt to downplay his involvement. "I don’t know, man. I just know that’s where they have him now."

We fall into a tense silence, the only sound the hum of the car’s engine as we drive toward the docks. The darkness outside feels suffocating, pressing down on us, mirroring the dread coiling in my gut.

The drive feels like an eternity, every minute filled with unbearable tension. We stop a little way away from the warehouse. My eyes scan the area—guards, too many of them for this to be anything but real. They’re guarding something precious, something important. My son. He’s here. I can feel it.

"What do you want to do?" Adrian asks, his voice low and filled with anticipation.

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