Chapter 39 Rocco
I walked in the middle of Fiorella's estate, phone pressed tightly against my ear, the ringing echoing more loudly than the footfalls of her men searching the house around me.
Nothing.
Again.
I gritted my teeth and dialled again, pacing across the marble floor, eyes flicking toward the stairs, the shattered glass from the fight earlier still scattering the floor. The call rang. Once. Twice. Four times.
Voicemail.
Again.
"Darn it, Fiorella," I swore under my breath, shoving my phone back into my pocket.
I turned to Leo, her father's right-hand man, as he bellowed orders at the men scouring each room, each possible hiding spot.
"Anything?" I demanded, already aware of the answer.
Leo's grave expression spoke volumes. "She's not here. The security cameras record her leaving alone."
Alone.
I clenched my teeth, trying to keep the frustration ripping at me in check. I knew she needed space after what had happened, but to disappear without a word? After everything?
"Any idea where she'd go?"
Leo hesitated, then released a sharp exhalation. "There are places she and her dad used to go. But if she'd wanted to be found, she'd have left a trail.".
I thrust a hand through my hair, forcing myself to think. I wanted to wish that she was hiding from the world, that she needed time. But there was a part of me, the part that never ignored a gut instinct, that told me something else.
What if the Marchesi got to her?
What if I was already too late?
No.
I pushed that aside. If the Marchesi had her, we'd know. They'd have gloated, taunted, made sure she knew who was doing it. That's how they worked.
But silence? Silence wasn't like her.
I turned to Leo. "Put more men on this. I want eyes on every single place she might be."
He nodded and got to it, but it wasn't enough.
I pulled out my phone again, checking for messages. None. No missed calls. No sign she'd even seen mine.
Damn it, Fiorella.
I glanced down the empty hallway in front of us, at the bloodstains that hadn't been fully cleaned yet, at the remnants of the battle she'd waged here. I didn't doubt she could take care of herself, she'd more than proved herself well enough times. But losing her father? That was something else.
And right now, she was alone.
I know she needs time and space to grief but I just needed to know that she’s okay.
I exhaled sharply, making up my mind. "I'm going to go find her."
Leo didn't argue. He merely nodded in understanding.
I walked out the door, resolve burning in my chest.
Wherever she was, I was going to find her. Because if the Marchesi so much as considered putting a hand on her, I'd make sure they didn't live long enough to regret it.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I answered immediately.
“She might be at one of the places she used to go with her father," Leo said, his voice quiet but sure. "There's an old cabin, deep into the woods past the vineyards. She trained there when she was younger."
A hidden place. A sanctuary.
I was already moving. "Send me the location.".
The GPS lit up, marking a destination far from the city, in the middle of woodland country. I had not known about it before, but now it was perfect.
Fiorella did not run away, she retreated where she could think.
The drive felt longer than it was, the winding roads stretching out endlessly under the blackness of the night. My grip on the wheel increased, the weight of it all pressing down on me. She hadn't called me back. That could be a lot of things. Most of them not good.
By the time I got to the cabin, the sky was still dark, but there were the faintest suggestions of dawn creeping over the tops of the trees. Her car was outside.
She was here.
I shut off the engine and sat in the driver's seat, looking at the small wooden structure. It was aged, weathered by time, but sturdy. One window shone with soft interior light.
She was awake.
I could have gone in. Insisted she talk to me, let me in. Said she wasn't alone in this. But Fiorella had lost the most important person in her world. She was grieving the only way she could, alone.
So I let her.
I reclined in the headrest, my gaze on the cabin, my mind replaying the last few hours. How she had disappeared. The blood on her hands. Her eyes.
She'd been hanging on too long.
The night dragged on, the world outside silent but for the occasional rustle of leaves. Time went by , but I didn't move.
She didn't need words right now. She needed time.
The hours passed. The sky turned from black to dark blue, to grey. A bird shrieked in the distance, the wind carrying the scent of damp earth.
I continued to wait.
When she was ready, she'd emerge from that cabin.
And when she did, I'd be here.
The door creaked open sometime during the afternoon, slow and hesitant, as though even walking took effort.
Fiorella emerged, her figure silhouetted by the darkness within the cabin. The moment I caught sight of her, a weight settled low in my chest.
She was exhausted.
Her usual tight, guarded expression was absent, and in its stead was something vacant, something raw. Dark circles beneath her puffy, red-rimmed eyes spoke of tears that had likely come in waves. Her shoulders were slumped, her usual confident stance nowhere to be found.
For a second, she simply stood there, blinking in the sun, adjusting to the world beyond the four walls that had held her grief. And then, she saw me.
Her eyes locked onto mine, a flicker of surprise sparking in their depths before they cooled to something unreadable.
I didn't move.
Didn't speak.
I simply let her take me in, standing there leaning against my car, arms crossed, waiting.
She didn't turn away, but I saw it, the slight quiver of her lower lip, the way her hands fisted at her sides.
She swallowed hard , like she was forcing herself to keep it together. Like she wasn't seconds from falling apart all over again.