Page 49 of The Assassin's Captive
"Well, he's back. And he's been watching my house."
Victor's tone sharpens. "Are you certain?"
"Certain enough." I glance at Serena, who's watching me with growing alarm. "What do you know about his current operations?"
"Last I heard, he was working the southern ports. Small-time smuggling, protection rackets. Nothing that would bring him back to Rome." Victor pauses. "Unless…"
"Unless what?"
"Unless he knows about the girl."
Luciano Maretti was one of Emilio's oldest enemies, a man who'd spent years trying to undermine the Costa syndicate. If he's learned about Serena's true identity—about the daughter Emilio refuses to acknowledge—he'd see her as the perfect weapon.
"How long has he been watching?" Victor asks.
"Three days. Maybe more."
"Then he knows she's there. And if Maretti knows, others will soon follow."
I run a hand through my hair, my mind racing through possibilities and contingencies. Hiding at my home was supposed to buy us time, but time has just run out.
"What's wrong, Lorenzo?" Serena asks, rising with fright in her eyes. My alarm system will always warn me with enough time to protect her. It's just a matter of how much blood would be shed if that happens.
"Say something…"
I wish I had an answer for her. But the truth is, nowhere in Rome is safe anymore. The hunter has become the hunted, and the game has changed completely.
22
SERENA
Iwake to cold sheets and an empty bed. Lorenzo's gone. The space beside me holds only the faint warmth of his body and the memory of his hands on my skin. I run my fingers across the indent his head left in the pillow, already cooling in the morning air.
The house feels different without him in it. Larger, more hollow. The silence presses against my eardrums until I can hear my own heartbeat. I lie here thinking for a few minutes as my eyes fully wake up.
This new reality I'm living in is frightening, so much so that I almost wanted to deny the truth of it. But I'm not one to get wrapped up in denial and hide from things. I'm practical and I face challenges head-on, which is what makes me a great prosecutor. But the softer side of me, the side that harbors fear of death and pain, it's weaker. I find comfort in the idea that Lorenzo and I are together in this because it means I'm not alone. It's just a bonus that he faces life head-on like me.
I dress in yesterday's clothes. The fabric feels foreign against skin that still remembers his touch. Each movement sends phantom sensations through me—the scrape of his beard againstmy throat, the weight of his body covering mine, the way he whispered my name in the darkness.
None of this makes sense.
I shouldn't feel this connection to him. This pull that grows stronger every hour I spend in his presence. He kidnapped me, threatened me, and stripped away every defense I've spent years constructing around myself.
But when the prowler appeared in the alley last night, when Lorenzo's body became a shield between me and the danger lurking outside, I felt safer than I have in weeks. I know he wasn't ready to plunge into a dangerous situation just to guard his property. He was on guard for me, to protect me. And I know when it comes to Costa, Lorenzo will do the same. I know by the way he looks at me when I'm letting him in.
The kitchen is bathed in pale sunlight when I finally make my way downstairs. The coffee machine fills the air with the scent of rich espresso. I lean against the marble counter, letting the warmth of the cup seep into my palms as my mind spirals through everything that's happened.
The leak in my office. The threats against my adoptive parents. The way Lorenzo's voice turned raw when he told me about my real identity. All of it feels surreal, as if I'm watching someone else's life unravel from a distance like a movie played out on a screen.
But the ache between my thighs reminds me this is real. All of it.
I'm reaching for my second cup when I notice the small black device sitting on the kitchen table. A burner phone, its screen dark and lifeless. Lorenzo must have left it here before he disappeared this morning.
A plan forms in my thoughts as I stare at it.
He made a mistake. A horrible, dangerous mistake.
I know I shouldn't touch it. I know this is exactly the kind of breach that will send him into a rage. But the need to know what's happening to my life burns through me with an intensity that drowns out all rational thought.
