Page 82 of Dark Mafia Vows

Did she finally have enough of the life I’d dragged her into? The possibility claws at me, eating away at my sanity.

I call Lorenzo again, pacing the length of my office, where I’ve been staying all these hours.

“Dario, I’ve been looking everywhere,” he says the moment he picks up. “I’ve got my people on it.”

“Your people?” I snap. “She’s your sister, the only person she probably fully trusts. You’re trying to tell me you don’t know where she is?”

Lorenzo’s silence stretches across the line before he speaks, his tone clipped. “What are you insinuating, Dario?”

“Are you trying to screw me over, Lorenzo?” I say through gritted teeth. “Did you take her somewhere far away? After all, I’ve settled all your debt. You’ve gotten almost everything you wanted from me in the first place?—”

“You think this is some kind of sick game? You think I would risk my sister’s life, risk everything we’ve built just a week before your wedding?” Lorenzo asks, his voice hard and sharp as a knife.

I shake my head. I don’t believe him. I can’t. Not after everything that’s happened. Not with our history.

His scoff is bitter, piercing into my ear through the receiver. “If you think I’d take her just to mess with you, then you need to get your head out of your ass.”

His words slice through my anger, but it doesn’t calm me. Instead, it just stirs the frustration and confusion further. He sounds sincere, and I know Lorenzo would never put Ginny in harm’s way. But still, he could be lying. He could be playing me.

We both end the call without resolving anything.

The third day is a blur of desperation. I drive from place to place, meeting people I know can find anyone for the right price. But each dead end hits harder than the last.

By the time I return home, exhaustion weighs me down, but I can’t stop. I find myself staggering toward her bedroom. I push open the door, the scent of her lingering in the air. Strawberry. Vanilla. It feels like a punch to the gut. I stand in the doorway,staring at her things—her neatly folded clothes, her hairbrush on the vanity. It’s almost like she never left.

I walk over to her bed, the sheets still wrinkled from the last time she slept there. My hand brushes the fabric, and I feel something crack inside me.

I fall onto the bed, burying my face in her pillow and inhaling deeply. The familiar scent of her hair and body fills my lungs. I can’t hold out much longer. I haven’t slept. Haven’t eaten. I feel like I’m drowning, the fear pulling me under. I squeeze my eyes shut, and finally, exhaustion wins.

I’m twelve again, trapped in that dark, damp room. The stench of sweat and blood chokes the air. I stand in the corner, two henchmen gripping my arms, pinning me against the cold stone wall. My heart races as I watch my father kneel on the ground, beaten and bloody. His face is barely recognizable, a grotesque canvas of bruises and despair.

“Where is it?” Antonio Bianchi demands on a low growl as he grips my father by the collar and shakes him violently.

“I don’t know,” my father whispers, tears streaming down his cheeks, mixing with the blood that drips from his cracked lips. “I don’t have it.”

My heart clenches painfully at the sight. I place a hand over my chest and squeeze, struggling to breathe.

Isabella Bianchi stands in the opposite corner, her lips curling into a sneer. “Lies,” she spits. “If you didn’t take it, then your useless son did. He’s a thief. He took it.”

Then, a sob breaks out of her lips as she looks at me. “I knew you were trouble when you started hanging around my Enzo. I knew you were a bad influence,” she cries, clutching Lorenzo against her chest.

Lorenzo told me his father had a special watch that contained a chip linked to all his business dealings. The shady and legit ones. This was just the day before.

That’s what they’re talking about. It’s madly suspicious that it immediately went missing after he told me about it. But I don’t know where it is. I swear I didn’t steal it. I try to speak, but my voice sticks in my throat.

“You.” Antonio finally acknowledges my presence. His eyes are as sharp as knives as they bore into mine. “Where’s the watch, boy?”

I shake my head frantically, my body trembling with fear. “I don’t have it. I didn’t take it, I swear.”

But my words fall on deaf ears. He backhands me, the force of the blow sending me to the ground. Pain explodes across my face, the metallic taste of blood pooling in my mouth.

“You better tell me the truth,” he tsks. “Or your father will pay for your lies.”

I scramble to my knees, my heart pounding in my chest. “I didn’t take it. Please, believe me!”

My father coughs, blood dribbling from his mouth. His bloodshot eyes meet mine, filled with desperation, pleading for me to hold on. “Dario…tell them. Tell them you didn’t take it.”

“I didn’t,” I sob, my voice shaking. I look at Lorenzo, standing silently in the corner with his mother. He’s my best friend. He knows I wouldn’t steal anything. I’m not a thief. “Lorenzo, please. Tell them!”

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