Chapter 48: rescued

**Luciano**

The streets of Chicago are littered with bodies of gang members, Bratva, Some Irish.

Some civilians.

Two weeks. Two weeks. I need her. Need her now. The fact that anything over the age of sixteen is breathing and I can't find my wife is grating.

It tears my nerves to shreds. Nic, also looking for Savannah combs through the city, gunning down any member of organized crime.

He takes his vergence out on anyone, because everyone did this.

Ferris offered help, telling me that if he knows anything, I will be the first to know.

I believe him. I haven't slept. Barely eat. I drink water, but that's about it. I don't understand how they dropped off the face of the Earth!

I want her!

My mind is frazzled, and I'm submerged in this blind rage. Every second with her, without knowing if she's breathing, if she's okay—

Except for the sounds of gun shots, the streets are silent, the only people out there dead.

The police are pooling their resources. I call Marco, he tells me he will help.

As the second week draws to a close, I warn them. I've deduced who took her.

A few hours later, the phone rings.

"Russia, 27 Greenlight Rd. Abandoned warehouse. Can't miss it."

I'm up and headed back to Russia.

I GPS the address, have a cab take me there

I GPS the address, have a cab take me there. I'm armed to the nines, and Nic is following in a SUV with plenty more ammo.

We hop out, automatics in hand, Nic kicks down the door, and I rush in, checking my surroundings.

There's only two rooms. I head to the smallest first. It's an office empty except some keys.

I take them, and go the next room, the door is unlocked, so I open it, aiming my gun and flashlight.

The smell of blood and bile fill the air.

"Is there a light switch?"

Nic finds it, and cuts it on.

There she is. Guant, striped and naked, her hair matted, hands and legs chained. Fumbling with the keys, I free her, taking her into my arms.

"Oh my poor baby."

I check her pulse, it's there but it's weak. "Ambulance, Nic. Hurry!"

I hoist her up, letting her legs wrap around me on instinct. One hand on her head the other holding me gun I take her out of there, sirens wailing.

As soon as they see her they swarm her, bearing her away from me.

"Wait!"

A few people look at me.

"I have to ride with you."

They get her in, and I follow, telling Nic to meet us at the closet hospital.

We pull up, and first responders rush her into the ER, wheeling her into ICU. I follow ignoring anyone who suggest otherwise.

I sit near her, as they give her an IV. Then they take her to another room to give her an MRI and a X-rays.

I follow, not letting her out of my sight.

Then they wheel her back to the room, tell me they'll update me.

Now that I've found her, a tether has been attached to her, connected with her nerve, every cell in my body.

When she leaves my sight, pain rips at my chest, burns in my blood.

Can't sleep without her beside me. I thought I was bad before.

I thought I was in pain before, I was worried before.

It's nothing—nothing—compared to the all encompassing fear at the mere thought of losing her again.

It's nothing—nothing—compared to the all encompassing fear at the mere thought of losing her again

Doctors keep her there. The baby is fine they say. Say the chemicals hadn't affected the baby too much, that she took the brunt of any pain.

Baby?

Imagine staring at a fire as it rushes toward you, on lines of gasoline. You can't move, can't talk. There's no escape. Imagine watching that flame consume you, feel your skin bistering, withering, smell the scent of roasting flesh, your own.

Now imagine you couldn't die. Imagine feeling that pain, experiencing that horror. Imagine how much you would dread the time when the flames started.

Every time, at the same time, you burn, and each time, you try desperately to find a way out. Every time you try and you fail.

You fight, but there is nothing that's stopping you from being consumed, nothing preventing the flames from turning you into a human torch.

Now imagine, that your family was there. You couldn't see them, you didn't know where they were. But you hear their tormented screams, haunting you.

Do you feel it? The pain, the agony, the sheer terror, the expectation of annihilation, hopelessness?

Do you feel helpless, angry, powerless?

That only scratches the surface of the feeling I get when my Savannah leaves my sight.

She comes home after almost a whole month

She comes home after almost a whole month. Her back hasn't quite healed, but she can rest with some comfort. She sleeps most of the day, and most of day, I watch her sleep, counting every breath, panicking if she skips one.

Eventually, I'll pull her in my arms, my bare skin on hers, so comforting. She'll wrap her arms around me, she press as closely as she can into me.

She's almost back to normal, as far as her weight and hair go. Her back is scarred, but other than that no permanent damage.

That I know of.

She rarely speaks, but she clings to me, her nails sinking into my flesh to ensure I don't leave.

I love the sting, love her depending on me. I thought, she might just close up, close herself off to me.

It seems just the opposite.

It seems we both have separation anxiety. We cling to one another as the days pass is by, and neither of us plans on letting go.