Chapter 10 10.
For days the fortress remained quiet. Salvatore was almost completely healed.
Elena stood in the center of the dark study with her chest heaving as she stared at the wall of monitors. The blue light from the screens washed over her, making her pale skin look ghostly.
She found the remote and clicked it and almost immediately the speakers hissed to life.
“...sources have confirmed that investigative reporter Elena Moretti has been tracked to a secluded estate just outside the city limits.”
No other person but Lucia. Her eyes were shiny with tears and her voice cracked repeatedly as she spoke but with tke type of tremor that Elena had seen her rehearse a thousand times in front of the office bathroom mirrors.
“Lucia, what are you doing?” Elena whispered, her fingers gripping the edge of the mahogany desk.
“Wait, wasn't I the one who badly wanted to get out of this on place?” she said why rolling her eyes.
“I do not wish to announce the location of the bug implanted in her, but I do assure you that we have a reliable lead on her whereabouts.”
“Bug?” Elena asked touching her body. “How's that even possible?”
“We are told that a rescue operation is currently underway,” Lucia continued, looking directly into the camera. “The authorities believe Elena is being held by a splinter cell of the Romano family. Every second counts. Elena, if you can hear this, help is coming. We are almost there.”
“Moretti?”
“Does she think my dad owns this place?” “Well that's actually if they're following the right lead”
However, there was something about her look and body movement that kept creping Elena out. She knew that look. Because as a journalist, she had seen it on the faces of the most ruthless politicians she had ever interviewed.
“She’s lying,” Elena muttered, the realization hitting her like a physical blow. “But why should she?”
A memory flashed through her mind from three years ago, in an office room. She had been sitting across from Senator Marcello had offered her a million euros to bury a story about a chemical leak.
“You think you’re a hero, Elena?” he had sneered. “In this city, you’re either the one holding the pen or the one being written about. So you'd better Choose carefully.”
Then she had looked him in the eye, clicked her pen, and said, “I’d rather be the headline that ruins you.”
“You think I'm afraid of you? Or of death?...think again.”
“Ohhh, how much confidence I possessed then.” she'd said with a chuckle.
Because she had been so strong then and so sure. But now, she was the story… the one being hunted.
“Elena?”
The voice was weak, raspy. She spun around. Salvatore was standing in the doorway. He looked like a wreck. His shirt was unbuttoned, the white bandages around his ribs stained with fresh, blooming red. He was leaning heavily against the frame, his face slick with sweat, but his eyes were sharp.
“What are you doing out of bed?” she asked, her voice cracking.
“I heard the broadcast,” he said, nodding toward the screen. He took a staggering step into the room, his breath hitching in pain. “She’s good. Your friend. She almost made me believe her.”
“She knows where we are, Salvatore. She said help is coming.”
“Isn't that what you've ever wanted? Deep down I know you're excited” he said pointing at her.
“Don't say that—” she stopped herself mid sentence.
But…speaking of help he nodded, letting out a short, bitter laugh that turned into a wince. “Help? Elena, look at the bottom of the screen, the logo on the satellite feed.”
Elena squinted. It wasn't the local news logo. It was a private Russian uplink—Volkov’s.
“She sold you,” Salvatore said, his voice dropping to a jagged whisper. “ maybe she did track you but she has giving the coordinates to the people who want me dead.
“No,” Elena shook her head, her eyes filling with hot, angry tears. “Lucia wouldn't. We grew up together. We shared everything. She’s the only good thing I had left!”
“She’s a journalist, Elena. Just like you,” Salvatore said, reaching out and grabbing her arm to steady himself. His hand was burning hot with fever. “She saw an opportunity to be the hero of the decade. She’s not saving you. She’s selling the exclusive rights to your kidnapping.”
“I have to go,” Elena said, trying to pull away. “If I can get to the road, they wouldn't come for you—”
“You won't make it to the gate,” Salvatore growled, pulling her closer. “Listen to me. The moment you step outside that door, you aren't a person anymore. You’re a trophy. Is that what you want? To be Dmitry’s trophy? To be the woman who was ‘saved’ by the Russians?”
“And what am I here?” she screamed, her frustration finally boiling over. She beat her fists against his chest, careful to avoid the wound but needing him to feel her rage. “Your prisoner? Your ‘doll’? You signed a contract for me, Salvatore! You’re no better than my father!”
Salvatore didn't move. He let her hit him, his eyes never leaving hers. When she finally slumped against him, sobbing, he wrapped his arms around her.
“It's okay to resent me.” he said pulling her close.
“But, I’m the only one who isn't lying to you,” he whispered into her hair. “Your father sold you and our friend, pointing at the screen, betrayed you. Remember, the police are on my payroll. The only truth left in this world is in this room. Right here.”
“Why?” she sobbed into his neck. “Why do you care? You should have just let them kill me at the club or at the warehouse.”
Salvatore pulled back just enough to look at her. He reached out, his thumb catching a tear on her cheek. “Because I promised a woman a long time ago that I'd take care of her daughter.”
“My mother,” Elena said, her breath hitching. “You talked about her in your sleep. You said she’s alive.”
Salvatore’s expression flickered. A shadow of something old and painful crossed his face. “She was the only one who ever saw me as more than a Romano. And your father... he didn't just break her heart, Elena. He broke her spirit. He told everyone she ran away, that she was a cheat. It was a lie. He traded her, just like he tried to trade you.”
Elena felt the world shifting again. Everything she thought she knew about her childhood was a lie. Her mother hadn't abandoned her. She had been a victim of the same game.
“Where is she?” Elena asked, her voice steadying.
“I don't know,” Salvatore admitted, his voice raw with honesty. “But I spent ten years looking. I found you instead. I thought if I could save the daughter, maybe I could find the mother.”
“How did you know it was me?”
“The ‘Moretti’ remember? Our families used to be in good talking terms when I was younger and you looked strikingly familiar that day at the warehouse.”
Suddenly, a loud, metallic ‘clack’echoed through the house. The perimeter alarm.
Salvatore’s body went rigid. He reached behind him and pulled a handgun from the small of his back, his face turning into a mask of stone.
“They’re here,” he said.
“But if she's actually got a bug on me as she claims…why say it's my father?”
“Elena, we don't know and this is certainly not the best time for a chat.”
“Salvatore, you can't fight them,” she said, looking at his bloody side. “You can barely stand.”
“Then you’d better start choosing, Elena,” he said, handing her a second magazine from his pocket. “Because Lucia is outside with a camera. If you want your life back, you’re going to have to help me kill every single person who thinks they own you.”
She felt a cold, sharp spark ignite in her chest. It was the same feeling she got when she was about to take down a corrupt official. It was the feeling of the hunt.
“I’m not a trophy,” Elena said, her voice dropping to a cold, dangerous register.
“Good,” Salvatore said, a grim smile touching his lips. “Because I’m not a hero.”
He handed her a smaller pistol from the desk drawer. “Do you know how to use this?”
“I’ve interviewed three generals and a dozen hitmen,” she said, checking the safety with a click. “I know where the heart is.”
“Now, that's my girl.” Salvatore nodded, leaning on the desk as he checked his own weapon. “Stay behind me. If I fall, you don't stop. You run for the tunnels in the basement and don't look back for me, I'm sure Luciano is bringing reinforcements.”
“I’m not leaving you,” she said.
Salvatore paused, his eyes searching hers. “Why? Is it the ‘mouth-to-mouth’ again?”
“Shut up,” she snapped, but her hand lingered on his arm. “stop making yourself feel too important.”
The sound of boots hit the gravel outside. A flashbang exploded in the hallway, filling the house with a blinding white light.
“Choice is over,” Salvatore growled, shoving her behind a heavy oak bookcase as the door blew inward.
Elena gripped the gun, her knuckles white. She looked at the door, her heart hammering a rhythm of pure, unadulterated survival.
“Let's show these bitches how we bite.”