Page 109 of The Freedom in Captivity

She fuckingleftwithout saying goodbye?

At least in high school, she gave me that much.

I pace back into to the bedroom, feeling…livid? A rage like none before. A feeling that has the room blurring with the need to destroy. With a bellow, I attack the nearest thing—my bed. The reminder of holding her last night, of the memories of when I first had her in here too much to handle.

After everything, she left without a damn goodbye. One fucking word. Less than twenty-four hours after she killed her own father, she decided to be finished. Up and left, taking the first chance for freedom, without even a second to consider what this means now. Wanting to leave—fine, but after all that has gone down in the couple weeks of her captivity, she can’t find it in that black heart of hers to have a final conversation?

This is even worse than high school. At least then, Stefano forced her away from me. This time, this is entirely her doing.

Since the moment Rosen dragged her into the basement, my heart started to work again for the first time in eleven years. My breath returned. My life was back. For all my appreciation for the Corsettis and what Lorenzo and Caterina have done for me, there was always a small piece of my heart missing. One they never owned because she’s always held it. With her back, I feel complete.

Feltcomplete.

I stare at the comforter at my feet, trying to calm my breathing, to unclench my tight jaw from the pain. She was asleep beneath it when I left, and now I wonder if she was faking. Waiting until I left so she could make her escape.

This isn’t Rozelyn.

Rozelyn wouldn’t leave without reason. This doesn’t feel like her. She’d want a formal goodbye as much as I would, if all our previous interactions were anything to go on.

But who…

Nico.

Fucking Nico.

I tear out of the room and down the hallways until I’m outside his office. No composure goes into my knock. My crash. My fist slamming into the wood, threatening to push it from its hinges until I hear him grant me entry.

“Where is she?” I demand the moment I’m over the threshold, my eyes only then registering who else is in the room.

I’ve seen this man once, from afar, the night of Nico’s engagement party when I was walking the perimeter of the mansion. Erico Rossi, underboss of the New YorkFamiglia, sits opposite of Nico. He turns with a poised composure, a single brow hiking in slight amusement being his only indication of having emotions.

“Excuse me,” Nico murmurs to Erico.

“No, please, continue. This is amusing.” The New Yorker gestures, as though granting me permission and I continue forward.

My steps are heavy, my breaths heavier as I fight to maintain control in front of Rossi. My hands press into the wood of Nico’s desk when I lean on it. “Where is she?”

He doesn’t bother pretending not to know who I’m speaking of. Leaning back and positioning his elbows on each of his desk chair’s arms, he props his chin on a fist. “Gone. I drove her away earlier.”

“Youdid.”

“Yes, I do know how to drive a vehicle,” he replies dryly, enticing a chuckle from Erico. “She has another purpose, Flynn. She’s searching for her sister. And your place is here.”

It is, but her place is with me too.

“You didn’t give me a chance to say goodbye.”

“Isn’t it better like this?”

Better than having a piece of your heart ripped away with no ability to fix it?

No.

So many words course through my head. Everything I want to shout at him. A few curse words. But I’m left speechless, our audience the only reminder to rein it in until later.

“Where did you take her?” I push out when I feel more in control of the ire moving through my body.

“Downtown bus station. She might be gone by now.”

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