Chapter 162 Fiorella
Darkness pressed over me in thick, suffocating layers.
No light.
No sound.
No sense of time.
Only pain blooming behind my eyes and a dull ringing in my ears.
My first breath tasted like dust and damp concrete. My second burned. My third came with the realization that my hands were tied behind me, coarse rope biting into my wrists, not tight enough to injure, but tight enough to keep me submissive.
I forced my vision to focus. Shadows. Cold floor. Metallic smell. A faint dripping somewhere in the distance. A warehouse? A bunker? A basement? Hard to tell. The air was thick with mold and rust, the kind of scent that clung to the lungs like a warning.
I blinked, adjusting.
Something soft rustled beside me.
A shape moved.
“Fi… Fiorella?”
My blood froze.
That voice.
That voice belonged to a ghost.
I turned slowly, too afraid to hope, too terrified to breathe.
My heart stuttered.
There, in the dim outline of a corner, sat a woman with tangled hair cascading over her shoulders, eyes hollow yet burning with a fire I knew too well. Her face, older, thinner, bruised, but unmistakable.
“Mamma…” The word left me in a cracked whisper. “Mamma?”
Her breath hitched. Her eyes filled. Her hands trembled as she reached for me despite her restraints.
“Amore…” Her voice broke, shattering something inside me. “My daughter… my beautiful girl…”
My knees almost gave out as I crawled toward her, my wrists screaming against the rope, my vision blurring with tears I didn’t know were coming. I leaned into her as much as the binds allowed. The smell of her hair, aged, faint, familiar, hit me like a blade to the chest.
I hadn’t smelled that in years.
I hadn’t heard her heartbeat.
I hadn’t felt her warmth.
Because she was supposed to be dead.
They told me she died.
A closed coffin.
Empty condolences.
A funeral without a body.
And I believed it.
All these years… all the rage, all the pain, all the loneliness, I had buried her in my heart. And now she was here, flesh and blood, broken but alive.
My mother.
“Tell me I’m awake,” I choked out.
“You’re awake, my love. Too awake. I’m so sorry.”
I pressed my forehead to hers, swallowing the storm tearing through me. “You’re alive. You’re alive. God, Mamma, how—”
“They took me.” Her voice lowered, raw. “Long before you ever knew. They staged everything. They needed leverage. Your father… your family… you.”
“You’ve been here all these years?” My throat tightened. “Alone?”
“Not always here, but always trapped since your father died.” Her fingers squeezed my cheeks gently, lovingly. “And every day, the only thing that kept me breathing was the thought of you. My fierce girl. My smart girl. My Fiorella.”
Guilt dug into my ribs. The realization of what I’d done, selling Rocco’s intel for an antidote that wasn’t real, trusting Nek’s word like a fool, struck me hard enough to take the air from my lungs.
“Mamma,” I whispered, voice shaking. “I should’ve found you sooner. I should’ve—”
“No.” Her tone snapped sharp, firm, the mother I remembered. “You survived. That is enough.”
I swallowed painfully, leaning into her palm. “I thought I was saving you. I thought—”
“I know,” she cut in softly. “I know, amore.”
Her thumb traced the corner of my lip, and she smiled a broken, proud smile. “You fought. You tried. My daughter always tries.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from breaking down again. Tears burned anyway.
Then the strategist inside me shoved everything aside.
No more crying.
No more shock.
Not now.
“Leo.” The name left me in a breath. “If Leo tracked my route, if he saw I didn’t come back, he’ll let the others know. He’ll mobilize.”
“He always was loyal,” my mother murmured. “Your father trusted him.”
I nodded. “If he followed through, my men should already be moving. They should be searching. They should be close.”
But even as I said it, doubt crept in like poison.
Leo didn’t know the exact location. The trail could’ve been covered. They could have transported me somewhere else. The lead could’ve been fake from the beginning. And I had walked straight into it, confident, impatient, desperate.
“How did I fall for this?” I muttered, fury rising like heat. “How did I let them play me?”
“Because you care,” my mother whispered, eyes soft despite her bruises. “And caring is both your strength and your weakness.”
“Like your father.”
Before I could respond, the heavy iron door shrieked open.
A slice of blinding light cut into the darkness.
Footsteps. Slow. Deliberate. Echoing.
I stiffened, instinct sharpening. My mother straightened as much as she could, her posture tense, protective, despite her injuries.
And then he appeared.
Nek.
He stepped out from the shadows with a grin that dripped venom, his hands tucked casually into his coat pockets as if he were strolling into a dinner party instead of a dungeon.
“Well, well…” he drawled. “Isn’t this touching?”
My muscles locked with hatred.
My mother stiffened beside me.
Nek approached with deliberate slowness, studying the scene like an art critic inspecting a masterpiece.
“A family reunion,” he said with exaggerated delight. “After so many years. All tears and whispers and heartbreak. Truly, touching.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You can mock all you want, but you’ve already lost, Nek.”
He smirked, leaning against a rusted table. “Have I?”
“You kidnapped me. Leo will have my men out. Rocco will come. And when he gets here—”
“Oh, I know he’s coming,” Nek cut in, grin widening.
My heartbeat stuttered.
He knew?
How?
My mother stiffened beside me. “Leave him out of this.”
“Oh, bella,” Nek chuckled, “I’m afraid your daughter already put him right in the center.”
I clenched my teeth. “What are you talking about?”
Nek tilted his head, eyes glittering. “Please, Fiorella. Did you really think your little fake betrayal fooled us?”
My blood ran cold.
He stepped closer.
“We knew from the start you weren’t really turning on Rocco. You’re too emotional. Too noticeable. Too easy to read when it comes to him.”
His smirk sharpened.
“And the funniest part? Even knowing you lied, even knowing you walked straight into my trap… he’s still coming for you.”
My stomach twisted.
“He shouldn’t,” my mother whispered, voice trembling. “He should run.”
“Ah, but he won’t.” Nek turned to her with a mocking bow. “Because your daughter has him wrapped around her finger. He loves her. Pathetic, really.”
I growled. “Say another word—”
He laughed. “Relax, tigress. I’m just stating facts.”
He dropped to one knee so he could look us both in the eyes.
“You see… Camillo has a special show prepared for you.”
My breath hitched.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I demanded.
Nek leaned in, voice dropping into a whisper that scraped along my spine like a blade.
“You’re going to watch your precious Rocco die.”
The room tilted.
My pulse roared.
My vision sharpened to a razor’s edge.
My mother inhaled sharply, her face covered with terror.
Nek stood again, brushing imaginary dust from his pants.
“Oh, don’t worry,” he continued. “Camillo insisted on doing it himself. Something about honor. Vengeance. Finishing the job he started years ago. You know… sentimental things.”
Heat flooded my face,rage, fear, disbelief all tangled so tightly they felt like a single force.
“He won’t die,” I snarled. “Rocco will tear through this place. Camillo won’t survive a minute.”
Nek’s smile only widened.
“Then you’d better hope he gets here in time.”
He stepped back toward the door, tapping it twice.
“Oh, and Fiorella?” He paused, glancing over his shoulder. “If he hesitates… even for a second… your entire bloodline dies with him. Your men. Your fiancé. And your mother—again.”
The door slammed.
Darkness swallowed us once more.
I exhaled shakily, muscles tight, mind spinning at impossible speeds.
“He’s coming for you,” my mother whispered, voice trembling. “And they’re going to kill him.”
“No,” I said through clenched teeth, lifting my head. “I won’t let them.”
My mother looked at me with the same fierce fire I carried.
“Then think, Fiorella. Think fast.”
I pressed my back to the wall, breathing deeply, letting the panic sharpen instead of scatter.
Rocco was coming.
Nek and Camillo wanted to make me watch him die.
But I wasn’t the helpless girl they wanted me to be.
I was my father’s daughter.
A mafia heiress.
A leader.
A fighter.
And I would burn this entire building to the ground before I let them touch him.