Page 54 of The Almost One

Stefano is a fucking genius. I excused myself from Gabriella, clutching little Bruce in my arms because I couldn’t bear to put him down, his soft fur soothing me, and I bumped straight into the old Italian man. It’s like he knew I needed him—as always, like the freaking ninja he is. Persuading him to give me information on where Marco has gone wasn’t as difficult as I’d expected, but—in his words—he hadn’t been instructednotto tell me, so he didn’t see anything wrong with it.

So now I’m driving Marco’s Aston Martin down the Grand Central Parkway toward Long Island. I hate driving, but there’s no way I was waiting on public transport to go and give my husband an earbashing. Bruce is in the passenger seat, my little mascot for the journey that’s going to take me over an hour.

Ugh.

Over an hour of my own thoughts, of wondering what my family was really like. If Mom and Dad left to live the way they did for their own safety somehow. Why we barely saw my grandparents. What the fuck was that party we went to the night they died? When did my grandparents die? How the Hell are the Mancinis’ connected to my family? Is Fox my real surname, or is it Volpe? I didn’t even know Volpe was a surname, just some random Italian word I’ve seen tattooed on Marco’s ribs. I have a thousand questions and I want my answers from the man with a thousand secrets.

My destination finally comes into view, and if the phrase “creepy vibes” had a picture for definition, this area would be it. The warehouse building looms above me as I pull up outside. I’m not even sure this is the right place, it looks deserted. Hmm. My usual security team, Aly and Justin, aren’t with me today, I told them I was going straight to Marco and promised not to make any stops on the way so I wouldn’t need them. But now that I’m here, I’m realizing that was probably a bad idea.

Fuck it, there’s no one around. I’ll just check it out and if he’s not here, I’ll call him to see exactly where he is. I wanted the element of surprise when confronting him about this, no more time for bullshit excuses, but if I’ve been led on a wild goose chase by Stefano then I’ll go to the man himself.

“You stay here for a minute, Brucey. I’ll come back for you when I know he’s in there.” Ruffling his fur, I kiss his little head before getting out of the car, heading for the warehouse door.

Knocking is for wimps, so I go straight for the handle, pulling the door open wide. Marco is right there as soon as I do and my eyes widen in surprise at his close proximity. He’s lucky I didn’t throat punch him—thank you, Lina, for showing me how effective that move is.

“We need to—” Before I can finish my sentence, Marco grabs my upper arm, pulling me inside and almost dragging me along. “What the fuck, Marco? Let me go!” He doesn’t answer, and it’s just fueling my anger toward him. This isn’t happening, he isn’t controlling this situation. I pull against him, yanking my arm from his grip and planting my feet to the ground. “Will you just stop—” He cuts me off again, bending over and pushing his shoulder into my stomach, lifting me into a fireman’s hold. The move winds me a little, and I struggle to get down as he carries me to fuck knows where.

Finally putting me down inside some windowless room, he grabs me by the back of the head, looking me in the eye, and I’m so confused. He looks… scared? Not an expression I’ve ever seen on him before. My heart stops when I hear shots being fired in the other room, and the reason for Marco’s caveman actions suddenly become clear. There’s danger here.

“I love you, Tesoro, and I need you to stay safe. Promise me.”

My eyes widen at his words. He better not think this is some kind of goodbye.

“I promise. Don’t go, Marco. Don’t, please stay—” I’m begging him because I need him, suddenly the secrets all seem inconsequential. I’d rather keep Marco for a lifetime than have all the answers I’m seeking. Fuck them. They’re no longer important. Marco is.

He kisses me, hard, pouring every ounce of his love into it, his warm breath hovering over my lips as he slowly pulls away.

“I’ll be right back.”

I’m still in complete shock as he slams the door closed and everything goes quiet, then I try the handle, finding it locked.

“Don’t you fucking walk away from me, Marco! Let me the fuck out! Now!” Banging on the solid metal door is doing fuck all apart from making me feel better. It’s unmoving. “Marco!”

Nothing.

Pure silence.

Panic is beginning to consume me and I’m getting sick and fucking tired of constantly feeling this way. There are people out there with guns and Marco’s behavior scared the shit out of me. Tears prick at my eyes as I scream at the top of my lungs, letting out every ounce of emotion running through my veins. Again and again, I scream, I yell, I smash my fists against the door, determination to get out of here at the top of my mind.

Marco can handle himself, I’ve seen it, and there’s no way Enzo would let him get hurt. I’m not worried for them.

I’m not.

I’m not worried they’ll get hurt.

No.

My throat is sore, my face damp from tears, and my whole body shakes with adrenaline. I don’t know how long I’ve been in this dark room, it could be five minutes, it could be fifteen, but when the door finally opens, I lunge for the exit, desperate to see Marco.

It’s not him. Instead, a blonde woman is standing there, the same one that was here when I arrived, and she’s covered in blood. I push past her into the main space and nearly throw up at the sight before me. There must be at least twenty bodies lying around, some with missing limbs, others with half their face missing, blood, guts and probably brain matter are scattered all over the floor.

“River…”

The woman’s voice is soft and she has a British accent, which takes me by surprise, but I have no time to give that my attention right now. I need to find Marco.

“Where is he?” Asking her name or why she’s here are secondary questions, unimportant in this moment as I frantically search the room of bodies for him.

“River… they took them.”

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