Page 41 of The Price of Mercy

Matteo paused for a fraction of a second, his gaze flicking to the wreckage that had been Enzo’s office, then back to him. His eyes softened, just for a moment, as if weighing the gravity of the situation. "The old warehouse on the outskirts of the city," Matteo replied, his voice lower now, almost hesitant. "The one they killed dad in."

Enzo’s jaw tightened, the muscles in his neck straining as his thoughts raced, his mind pulling together the threads of the situation. Every possibility, every scenario, played out like a twisted version of the future. De Luca had crossed a line. And now, Enzo was going to make sure he paid for it.

“Gather the men,” Enzo growled, his voice low, dangerous. There was no trace of hesitation in him now. His hands gripped the edge of the desk with such force that his knuckles went white. “We’re going in.”

Matteo didn’t move immediately. He stood there; his eyes fixed on Enzo with an intensity that wasn’t just about the mission. Matteo’s gaze softened ever so slightly; his face etched with concern. The silence between them stretched, thick with the unspoken understanding that hung in the air like a heavy fog.

“Enzo…” Matteo began, his voice quiet but steady, the weight of his words settling between them like a challenge. “We’ll get him back. But you need to keep your head. Julian needs you focused.”

The mention of Julian’s name sent a jolt of agony through Enzo’s chest. His heart squeezed painfully, and for a fleeting second, the world seemed to blur. The image of Julian, bloodied, bruised, terrified, flashed behind his eyes, a nightmare he couldn’t escape, no matter how hard he tried.

Enzo closed his eyes tightly, forcing himself to breathe, to push down the panic that was threatening to swallow him whole. Matteo was right. Julian needed him, and the last thing he could afford was to let the rage consume him. If he lost control now, they would all lose.

His voice came out rough, barely controlled. “I’m focused.” He opened his eyes, his gaze hardening with a renewed resolve. “But if he… if he…”

The words hung in the air, unfinished. They didn’t need to be said. The threat was clear in the dark depths of Enzo’s gaze; vengeance would be swift, and it would be unrelenting.

Matteo’s expression darkened, the concern giving way to something deeper, an understanding. He gave a short nod, his face grim but resolute. “We’ll get him back,” he said again, his voice quiet but fierce. “No matter what it takes.”

There was a moment of silence, and then, Enzo turned his back on Matteo, facing the wreckage of his office once more. His fingers gripped the edge of the desk tightly, his knuckles white with the effort. He could feel the cold surface beneath his hand, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. But his mind was focused on one thing: Julian. He could see him in his mind’seye, could hear his voice in the distance, a whisper of hope amidst the terror. He couldn’t lose him, not now. Not ever.

Enzo exhaled sharply, the words escaping from his lips in a low, firm command. “Let’s move. We’re not wasting another second.”

Matteo didn’t argue, didn’t hesitate. Without a word, he turned and strode out of the room, his footsteps echoing down the hall along with his voice shouting for Luca.

Enzo stood there for a moment longer, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. The stillness of the room pressed in on him, the silence louder now than ever. He closed his eyes again, steadying himself, forcing his mind into a singular, unyielding focus.

Julian.

The thought burned through him, sharp and unforgiving. He was going to get him back. No one, not De Luca, not anyone, was going to take Julian from him.

Enzo opened his eyes, his resolve as solid as stone. He would burn the world to the ground to get Julian back.

And he would make sure De Luca felt every ounce of that inferno.

Chapter 27

The Rescue

Julian’s consciousness ebbed and flowed, like a ship caught in a storm. Pain was the anchor that kept him tethered to the present, sharp and unyielding, an ever-present reminder of how fragile he was, how helpless. Each breath felt like a battle, shallow and broken, his ribs protesting with every inhale, sending searing waves of agony through his chest.

His head pounded relentlessly, the remnants of the blow he’d taken still pulsing with each heartbeat, a constant drumbeat of suffering. His wrists and ankles were bound so tightly that the ropes dug deep into his skin, the fibers biting into the tender flesh until he could feel the sting of blood pooling beneath the surface.

But it was the cold that hurt the most; the cold, damp air of the warehouse, creeping in through the cracks in the walls, wrapping around him like a suffocating shroud.

The darkness beckoned, its heavy fingers pulling him under, offering a fleeting escape from the torment. It would have been so easy to give in, to let the world fade away and sink into oblivion, if only for a moment. But each time he driftedtoo far, the pain dragged him back; ruthless, unyielding. And so, he stayed in that limbo, trapped between awareness and unconsciousness, his body aching, his mind a blur of confusion and fear.

When he came to again, it was the sound of voices that pierced through the fog of his mind. He blinked, struggling to focus as his vision swam in and out of clarity. The harsh light filtering through the high windows of the warehouse blurred the figures standing in front of him, but he knew them instantly; his captors. The two men who had beaten him earlier, their presence like a dark cloud hanging over him.

“Look who’s awake,” one of them sneered, his voice thick with contempt, as if Julian were nothing more than a toy they’d grown bored of. “Thought you’d be out cold for a while longer, Doc. Guess you’re tougher than you look.”

Julian’s stomach twisted, nausea rolling through him at the sound of their voices. His heart picked up speed, panic creeping up his spine. He could feel their eyes on him, prowling like predators, savoring the sight of their prey squirming in pain. They circled him, their footsteps echoing in the empty space of the warehouse, each sound amplifying the sense of dread that had settled in his chest.

He tried to speak, tried to demand something, anything, but the tape over his mouth was suffocating. His words were reduced to muffled pleas, trapped behind the barrier of adhesive, as helpless as he felt in his body. His mind raced, but it was all incoherent thoughts, fragmented and useless.

The second man let out a cruel laugh, the sound scraping against Julian’s skin like nails on a chalkboard. “You know, I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to have a someone fancy like you all to myself,” he jeered, his voice low and teasing, but there wassomething in it; a sick gleam that made Julian’s blood run cold. “Bet you’ve got some tricks up your sleeve, huh?”

The man’s eyes gleamed with something darker, something dangerous, as he stepped closer. Julian’s stomach dropped, a sense of dread seizing him from the inside. His body went stiff, but he couldn’t fight the terror that spiked through him as the man closed the gap, his presence overwhelming. The man’s hand shot out and grabbed the front of Julian’s shirt, tearing it open with a sickening sound, the fabric ripping like paper.

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