Chapter 43

*Elio POV*

The dim light of the interrogation room barely illuminated the battered figure of Moretti, sitting across from me with his swollen face, bloody and bruised. The man barely resembled the cocky, arrogant criminal I had dealt with so many times before. Matteo had worked him over thoroughly, extracting what little fight was left in him. But even now, knowing he was at death’s door, Moretti seemed to think he could get out of this. Cowardice dripped from every pore as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair, trying not to look me in the eye.

“So?” I said, leaning forward, my voice calm but deadly. “Tell me everything I need to know.”

Moretti looked up through bloodshot eyes, his lips cracked and swollen. His breath was labored, every word seemed to take effort. “What do you want to know?” he rasped, sounding far too complacent for a man in his position.

I stared at him with undisguised disgust. After all this, after everything he had done to Grace, this sniveling coward was ready to give up. I had to give Matteo credit—he knew how to break even the most defiant. But seeing Moretti this pathetic only fueled my anger.

"Was it you who suggested to Caruso that he kill my father?" I asked, the question coming out quick, sharp, and filled with barely controlled rage.

Moretti’s jaw worked for a moment, his tongue darting out to wet his cracked lips. “Yeah… the idiot didn’t agree, so I had to pay him a visit at home. Convince him a little.” He winced as the effort of talking seemed to cause him more pain.

I clenched my fists. “Let me guess. You threatened him with his daughter, didn’t you? You told him that if he didn’t do as you said, Grace would suffer.” My voice was cold, detached, but inside, I was seething.

Moretti chuckled weakly, the sound a hollow mockery of defiance. “You know? I’m sorry, Elio. If I had known that you and her... well, I wouldn’t have done the stupid thing I did.”

*The idiot.* Does he really think I’ll fall for this? That I’ll pity him? I’d seen men like him grovel before. They’d say anything to save their skins, thinking that at the last moment, they could weasel their way out. But not this time.

"And yet you kidnapped Grace and tortured her…” My voice dropped to a dangerous growl, my hands itching to tear him apart. “I hope you’ve come to terms with the fact that you’re not getting out of here alive.”

His face paled, and he swallowed, trying to say something, but the terror in his eyes said it all. I wanted to ask him more, press him for every last piece of information, but at that moment, my phone vibrated in my pocket. Glancing at the screen, I saw Grace’s name, and my heart stopped.

Was she okay? Had something happened?

I stood abruptly, stepping away from the table and motioning for Matteo to keep an eye on Moretti. I couldn’t afford distractions, but if Grace was calling, it meant something important.

“Did something happen?” I asked, my voice tense as I moved to the corner of the room, where Moretti couldn’t hear me.

Grace’s voice came through the line, slightly strained, and I could hear her wince in pain. “Your father, Sonny… he passed by,” she said, her breath hitching.

*My father?* A chill ran down my spine. I had expected him to come, but not so soon, and not to meet Grace before I could prepare her. What had he said to her? What had he done?

“Are you okay?” I asked quickly, panic bubbling under my calm exterior. The thought of Grace, still recovering from her injuries, facing my father’s brutal interrogation alone filled me with dread. If he sensed any weakness in her…

“I’ve had better moments,” she admitted, her voice light but tired. “Your father was just… curious about us.”

Damn it.

My mind raced. Domenico was many things—brilliant, ruthless, but he wasn’t patient. If he smelled any hint of betrayal, he would strike before I had the chance to explain. He wouldn’t hesitate, not even for me.

"I’m coming back home," I said, my voice leaving no room for argument. "Tell me everything when I get there."

I ended the call and turned back to the room, where Moretti sat, his head lolling to the side, barely conscious. The sight of him was like a bucket of cold water, dragging me back to the immediate threat in front of me. My father would have to wait, but Moretti’s time was running out. I needed answers, and fast.

I walked back to him, eyes dark with fury. “You were saying, Moretti,” I drawled, leaning down to look him directly in the eyes. "You thought using Grace would be the perfect way to test my patience, didn’t you? You thought threatening her would make me weak."

He blinked up at me, his expression a mix of pain and something that might’ve been regret. But it wasn’t enough.

"She was never supposed to be involved like that," Moretti croaked, spitting blood onto the floor. “It wasn’t supposed to go this far.”

“Oh, but it did,” I snapped. “And now you’ll pay for it. But not before you tell me everything. *Every* last detail.”

Moretti’s chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, his body visibly trembling. “I never… I never thought she’d hold out like she did,” he muttered, his eyes unfocused. “Your girl… she’s strong. My men… we pushed her, tortured her, but she never gave in. She didn’t say a word about you.”

The mention of Grace’s strength, her resilience in the face of such brutality, hit me harder than I expected. My hands clenched into fists at my sides. The thought of her enduring that hell because of me… it made my stomach churn with guilt.

"And yet, you still dared to touch her," I said, my voice thick with barely contained rage.

Moretti chuckled weakly, his eyes glinting with some twisted amusement. “The whole time she was locked up, she kept telling me you’d come for her. That you wouldn’t let her die there. I bet on it.”

I motioned for Matteo, who stepped forward and sent a vicious punch to Moretti’s gut, silencing whatever words were about to leave his mouth. I couldn’t bear to hear anymore.

The fact that Grace trusted me enough to believe I would come for her, even after I’d pushed her away, even after I had hurt her with my behavior, made my heart ache in ways I hadn’t anticipated. And now, all I could think of was how to make Moretti pay for every second she suffered.

"Matteo," I said, my voice low and dangerous. "Get the rest of it out of him. I want every detail. Then we finish this."

Moretti wasn’t walking out of here alive. That much was certain.

But first, I had to return to Grace. There was no time to waste.