Chapter 160 Fiorella
My phone buzzed on the desk, and I almost jumped-not because I wasn't expecting it, but because I hadn't allowed myself to hope so fully. I picked it up, heart skipping at the sight of his name. Rocco. Rocco.
We should see each other, talk, figure this out.
I blinked at the screen, a slow, fragile smile tugging at my lips. Talk. Figure this out. He wanted me. After all the chaos, the betrayal, the knives, the blood, the fear, he still wanted me. My chest tightened, and for the first time in days, I let myself exhale fully, letting the relief sink in, letting the tension loosen just a fraction.
I stared at the message again, memorising the words like a prayer. My pulse quickened with a mix of joy and apprehension. I typed in return, my fingers shaking with anticipation:
Yes. Let's meet. Soon.
I set the phone down carefully, as if placing it on a pedestal, not wanting to break the fragile thread of hope I'd just grasped. My thoughts shifted, though, almost immediately, back to the reason my heart had been pounding these past weeks-my mother.
Leo had been working non-stop, pulling strings, following whispers, checking every thread of intelligence that might lead us to her. And today, for the first time in what felt like eternity, a real lead had surfaced: a name, a location, a possibility. Not confirmation, but enough to fire that dangerous, stubborn hope that had kept me moving when the world had tried to crush me.
I stood abruptly, the boots clicking against the marble floor as I approached my private war room. Leo followed silently; his calm presence was a counterweight to my excitement. I gestured at the screen while my mind ran a hundred steps ahead of my body.
"Here," I said, pointing at a map with coded markers, red dots that pulsed like a heartbeat under the lights. "This is where the lead is strongest. My men need to follow it. Track everything, every detail, every guard rotation. I don't care what it takes."
Leo nodded. "Already in motion. We have men on the ground. Nothing will move without us knowing."
I paced back and forth, my fists clenched, my mind a storm. I couldn't wait anymore, not for them to do it, or for anyone else either. I had to see it for myself.
“I’m going,” I said finally, and Leo froze, eyes widening in that subtle way that told me he wanted to argue. “No. I’m going myself. Alone. This is my mother. I can’t trust anyone else to do it the way it needs to be done.”
He studied me, weighing the impossibility, the danger, and then nodded. “Understood. Just… be careful. Don’t underestimate whoever is holding her.”
I didn't answer. I didn't need to. My mind was already racing ahead, calculating, planning, imagining every possible scenario. I needed this to work. I needed her safe, my mother, the only woman who had ever taught me what it meant to be unbreakable.
Hours passed like minutes. I armoured myself up with guns, phones, and layers of protection, yet the weight of anticipation was such that each movement felt as though it had to wade through water. My pulse was a drumbeat in my ears, loud enough that it might spill out and give me away. My phone kept being checked, re-reading Rocco's message, imagining what would happen once we sat opposite each other, talked finally, and reunited.
When night fell, I moved. My car glided silently through the streets, sleek, black, almost invisible under the faint light of the moon. Every turn, every shadow, every sound heightened my senses. I could feel them watching-always-and yet I pushed forward, the lead burning in my mind like a flare.
I parked a few blocks away, my men following discreetly behind me, their headlights off, their distance perfect. I walked deliberately with careful, measured steps toward the supposed location of my mother's captors. I trusted no one but myself.
The building came into view, abandoned on the outside, silent, innocuous, but a part of me screamed danger. I slipped through the perimeter, scanning for traps, cameras, motion sensors. Every shadow felt alive, every corner threatening. And yet, hope drove me forward, and I pressed on, stepping lightly, like a ghost myself.
I reached the main door, my hands shaking slightly as I pulled my weapons from under my coat. One push, one foot inside, and my pulse shot through my throat. The hall was empty, the air thick, the silence smothering. My eyes darted from one shadow to the next, tracing patterns, memorising walls, doors, escape routes.
Then, motion.
Figures emerged from the corners, masked, fast, trained. My hands acted instinctively, guns out, a sharp kick to one man's chest, flipping him across the floor. A knife swung at me, but I twisted, catching the blade mid-air, snapping it from his grasp, tossing it to the ground. Another came from the side; I elbowed him in the jaw, spinning, throwing him into a stack of crates.
Adrenaline sharpened my senses. Pain didn't exist; hesitation didn't exist. Every strike, every movement-precise, practiced, lethal. I was Fiorella De Luca, and I wasn't going down without a fight.
But there were too many. They came from every angle, coordinated, relentless. One caught me by the hair and slammed me backward, my head striking the wall. Stars exploded behind my eyes, my vision blurring. I struggled, kicked, elbowed, punched but the restraints of numbers were unyielding.
I landed on the floor, gasping, my hands pinned behind me. My legs lashed out, connecting with knees and shins, buying fractions of a second, but it wasn’t enough. Slowly, inexorably, they dragged me upright, my struggles wild and furious, and bound my arms tightly.
Pain flared with each movement, but I refused to submit. I kicked, struck, spat, cursed, every ounce of rage, skill, and survival instinct flowing through me. I wouldn’t go quietly. I would make them regret this. I would fight until my last breath.
And then, the first real wave of darkness fell over me. A hood pressed down, cloth against my nose and mouth. My vision blurred , but even through the haze, I saw him, a shape, a presence.
Tall. Calm. Deliberate.
Nek.
A chill coursed down my spine, and through the dizzy, battered haze, my heart knew I was staring at a predator in the darkness.
“Ah… Fiorella,” his voice hissed; smooth, deliberate, venomous. “Did you really think you could outplay me?”
I screamed, tried to strike, tried to twist, but my hands were bound, my freedom stripped. My body shook with rage and disbelief, but my mind burned.
I refused to submit, refused to let fear dominate
And yet, in that instant, surrounded, restrained, and with Nek stepping closer from the shadows… I knew this was only the start.
The darkness swallowed me.