Chapter 116 The Rat {Kieran}

Chapter 116 The Rat {Kieran}
Once again, my ability to think amidst chaos and pure rage has saved me from ruining another good thing in my life. 

Valentina.

I tucked her to sleep after a few minutes of rambling about not feeling sleepy. I could tell she was anxious. The tension from the night had yet to leave her body. She wanted to continue the conversation. She had a lot to say, and I intended to listen to her, but she needed rest the more.

“I’m afraid if I fall asleep, you'll disappear, Kieran.” She murmured, her voice induced with sleep as she struggled to keep her eyes awake while I followed the zigzag lines of the French waves on her low-cut hair to help her relax.

“I promise not to disappear, my love," I whispered back.

I couldn’t say it to her face, but this was not my Elizabeth. Her face was gaunt; there were faint red lines around her wrist, marks that I recognized as wire marks from being forcefully tied. Her body would tremble every now and then; the soles of her feet had cut marks that had not healed, and from the way they looked, they weren't fresh cuts.

While I allowed my anger to control my reasoning, she was being tortured by Berlo. I took too long. 

It was two days ago, before the senator's birthday, post-explosion, that Granny sought my help. I was reluctant at first. I had plans to get drunk and wasted, but some part of me that I once believed to be delusional decided to hear her out.

The calm and collected granny I saw the other day was hysterical; she claimed her son was taken by Berlo’s men. I thought it was all another ploy until she calmly took her time to explain all that had happened.

A newly formed rage burst out of me when I learned the true origin of Elizabeth’s fake identity. Starting from the gender discrimination from her own parents, followed by Berlo’s torture and abuse, which eventually forced her to fake her own death and seize the opportunity to escape and live in Boston under a fake identity.

Maybe it was part of me that had always believed I wasn't someone to be tricked, or the pride that refused to accept that I had become too vulnerable with someone that made me easily believe all Granny said to me.

No, rewatching the clip from airport CCTV was all I needed as proof. Besides, women in the mafia were majorly abused, discarded, and poorly treated; it was not surprising that Elizabeth was just another victim of the cold, bloody world of ours. 

I, furthermore, did extensive research on Rosie Eleganzo. I dived deeper past the flashy and glamorous lifestyle, the parties, and the galas and into what the speculation and criticism about her were. For an heiress, she didn’t further her education. She never attended college. I needed no explanation for that. 

When I really looked at the pictures of her smiling, I realized it wasn’t really. It looked almost like it was painted on her. Her eyes were not vibrant; the makeup only gave the illusion of a spark, but I knew the difference. She was like a doll. Gorgeous with no soul. Rosie Eleganzo was definitely a different woman from the Elizabeth Grant I met.

“If you have any love for Elizabeth,” Granny begged with tears in her eyes. “Please save her, or she will die for you and John, and John will die for her. In the end, I lose both my children.”

I respect her for considering Elizabeth her daughter and for her courage. She volunteered to provide me with the information she had about Berlo. Not everyone had the guts to go against a mafia as strong as the Li Nuperi, especially given their reputation for violence and retribution against those who oppose them. 

After our meeting, I placed Granny under my protection; I wouldn't want anything to happen to her. Elizabeth's heart would be broken. Immediately after her visit, I had a change of plan. My intention for crashing the senator's party shifted. I was going to kidnap her. I was going to kidnap her, make angry love to her, and force her to tell me every detail of the real story, not just the summary Granny gave me. Regardless of how ugly and disgusting it was, I was determined to capture her.

What I didn't anticipate was Berlo’s plan to bomb the place. The Veil helped me cut casualties, but now we have one of my least favorite issues. The presence of a traitor looms large. 

I am well aware of my absence from the mafia for a couple of weeks now, as well as the silent murmurs of protest and signs of insubordination. However, since my father’s reign, our men have been nothing but loyal unless something instigates distrust and doubt. 

Someone such as my elder brother, Marcello, could be the culprit. There was no way he had been quiet this whole time. I’d hate to murder my own flesh and blood, but Donatello didn’t have the guts to pull such an act off.  

While Elizabet slept on my chest, I texted Zayn. He was the first person I called after Elizabeth's house exploded. The new female bodyguard could not survive the blast, and her death was starting to weigh heavy on my mind. If Elizabeth and Brad stayed any longer, they would have died too.

I didn’t want to think of it. 

I need him to begin the investigation. Zayn was the only one I could trust with this. A rat had been let loose, and I needed to kill it before it did more damage. 

A confusing text came from Zayn. I had a difficult time digesting the text he sent to me.

“There is a deleted clip from the CCTV I retrieved two days ago. Brad was seen leaving with a briefcase in the middle of the night. Do you want me to send it now?”