Chapter 226 Found And Lost, Again

Chapter 226 Found And Lost, Again
Ivy's POV:

Time didn’t move right anymore.

It stretched, snapped, folded back on itself.

I knew hours had passed because my body felt wrong,
heavy in places it shouldn’t, light in others. My jaw throbbed with a steady pulse. My ribs screamed when every breath scraped. One eye wouldn’t open fully.

They hadn’t knocked me out.

That was deliberate.

Elio liked me conscious. He liked knowing I’d remember.

I was half-dragged, half-walked down a corridor that smelled like oil and rust. My feet caught once and I nearly went down. A hand tightened in my hair and yanked me upright before I could fall.

“Careful,” Elio said mildly. “She still needs her legs.”

I didn’t answer.

My wrists were bound behind me again. Tighter this time. My shoulders burned from the position. Every step sent a sharp reminder through my face where the punches had landed earlier. Blood had dried at the corner of my mouth. It cracked when I breathed too hard.

The van doors opened.

Cold air rushed in.

They shoved me inside. Metal bench. No padding. Someone kicked my ankle to make me sit properly.

The doors slammed shut and the engine started.

I leaned my forehead against the cold wall and let my eyes close.

Elio sat across from me. He always wanted to watch.

“You’re fading,” he said conversationally.

“I’m fine,” I muttered.

He smiled. “You always say that right before you aren’t.”

The van lurched forward.

I focused on counting turns. One. Two. Hard left. Rough patch. Slower. Then faster again.

He was moving me because Matteo was close. That knowledge cut through the fog sharper than pain.

“You’re running,” I said.

Elio laughed quietly. “No. I’m adjusting.”

“For someone who planned all this, you seem jumpy,” I said.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. His voice dropped.

“For someone who was raised in that house, you’re still very bad at reading the stakes.”

I forced my eye open and looked at him.

“This isn’t about revenge,” he continued. “Revenge is boring. This is about correction.”

I swallowed. It hurt.

“You always hated that I left,” I said.

“I hated that you made it look easy,” he replied.

The van slowed. My pulse jumped.

“Boss,” one of his men said from the front. “Movement behind us. Fast.”

Elio’s smile sharpened.

“Oh,” he said. “Good.”

The van swerved suddenly. Tires screamed. I slammed sideways, pain blooming fresh across my ribs. I bit down hard to keep from making a sound.

Gunfire cracked outside. Close. My heart slammed against my chest.

Elio stood smoothly, bracing himself like this was familiar.

“Looks like he found us,” he said pleasantly.

The van jerked again, harder this time. Someone shouted. Another shot rang out, closer now.

Then... Impact. Metal shrieked. The van slammed to a stop.

The back doors burst open. Light flooded in. Chaos followed.

A body fell into view, hitting the ground wrong. Another man fired blindly into the dark.

Elio didn’t flinch.

He stepped out of the van, reached back, and grabbed me by the arm, hauling me with him.

“Stay with me, Irene,” he said calmly. “You don’t want to miss this.”

I stumbled, barely staying upright.

Then I heard it. That sound.

The one I’d known would come the second Matteo got close.

Gunfire. Precise. Controlled.

A scream cut off abruptly. Another man went down hard, blood spraying across concrete.

I turned my head just in time to see Matteo.

He moved like something unleashed.

No hesitation. No wasted motion. A shot to the chest. A knife up under a jaw. A body dropped. Another man tried to run, Matteo put him down without even turning fully toward him.

He didn’t shout my name. He didn’t need to. He saw me.

Something in his face changed.

Fury.

Pure, violent fury.

“Ivy,” he said.

My knees buckled. I would’ve fallen if Elio hadn’t tightened his grip.

Matteo saw the blood on my face. The way I was bound. The way I was barely standing. That was when he stopped being human.

He came at them.

Five men tried to intercept him. Five men didn’t succeed.

A knife flashed. A gun discharged. Someone hit the ground screaming and then wasn’t screaming anymore.

I lost track of time again. Just flashes, bodies falling, blood splattering, the sound of bone breaking too close.

Elio watched it all like theater.

“Magnificent,” he murmured. “He really does love you.”

Matteo reached us. Elio moved faster than I expected.

In one smooth motion, he wrenched me back against his chest and brought a gun up, pressing it to my temple.

Everything stopped. Instantly.

Matteo froze.

His chest heaved. Blood coated his hands, none of it his own.

His eyes locked on the gun. Then on my face.

“Ivy,” he said, voice hoarse. “Don’t move.”

I didn’t.

Elio leaned close to my ear.

“See?” he whispered. “Choice.”

He raised his voice.

“Drop it,” Elio said calmly. “Now.”

Matteo’s jaw clenched.

“Let her go,” he said.

Elio chuckled. “You see how you still think you’re negotiating?”

The gun pressed harder into my temple.

“I don’t lose sleep over killing a traitorous sister,” Elio said lightly. “So don’t test me.”

Matteo’s hand shook. I had never seen that before.

Never.

“Matteo,” I said softly. “It’s okay.”

His eyes flicked to mine. Panic flashed there, raw and unguarded.

“No,” he said. “It’s not.”

Elio smiled wider.

“Drop the gun,” he repeated.

Silence stretched. Then, Matteo lowered his weapon. It hit the ground with a dull clatter.

Something in my chest broke at the sound.

Elio sighed in satisfaction.

“Good,” he said. “See how easy that was?”

Matteo stood there, empty-handed, blood-spattered, breathing hard.

“I’ll kill you,” he said quietly.

Elio laughed.

“Yes,” he agreed. “Eventually. But not today.”

He jerked his head to his remaining men.

“Move,” he ordered.

They backed away fast, weapons trained on Matteo.

Elio dragged me backward with them, gun never leaving my head.

As we retreated, he leaned in close again.

“You did beautifully,” he murmured. “Both of you.”

The last thing I saw before the doors slammed shut again was Matteo, standing still, weaponless, eyes locked on me like he was carving my face into his memory.

The engine roared and we pulled away.

I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream.

I just stared at the floor and thought one clear, terrifying thought:

This wasn’t the rescue.

This was the beginning.