CHAPTER 32: Mirabella's POV I woke up to the scent of lavender and something warm, faintly sweet, waffles? My eyes fluttered open to find a pair of large hazel eyes staring down at me.I might’ve screamed if not for the tangle of red curls and the familiar face they framed.“Eliana?” I whispered, still half caught in the haze of sleep and disbelief.Her eyes widened, and before I could sit up, she vanished from my line of sight. A second later, the bed dipped under the weight of her tackle.“You bitch,” she choked, hugging me so tightly it hurt. “You had me worried sick.”I winced, not from the force of her hug, but from how raw my body still felt. The bruises, the fatigue, it hadn’t all left me yet.I froze, then slowly hugged her back. My shoulder grew damp. She was crying.“Eliana—”“Why the hell would you leave me that text and then disappear?” she snapped, voice shaking. “Do you know what that felt like? I thought you were dead. I thought Giovanni had taken you.”
CHAPTER 31: Giovanni's POV Mirabella didn’t flinch.She didn’t retreat, didn’t break eye contact. She just stood there, shoulders squared, lips parted, eyes locked on mine. That silence between us wasn’t passive. It was a dare. And it echoed louder than any scream.I’d expected fury. Sarcasm. Maybe a slap. She was all edge and defiance, a woman built to bite back.But she didn’t move.Didn’t run.Didn’t say a word.That stillness said everything.She heard me. And some part of her wasn’t trying to escape.I stepped forward, deliberate and slow, letting each pace pull the tension tighter between us. My palm settled on her waist. It was not rough, not soft, just firm. The warmth of her body thrummed against mine, pulsing with tension.“You don’t need to agree,” I said, my voice low. Measured. “I’m not asking for permission. I’m stating what's already been decided.”Her jaw tightened, her anger finally surfacing. “You think you can just claim me like some antique off an auction floor?”
CHAPTER 30: Mirabella's POV My eyes felt heavy. I gently pried my eyes open, the light was soft and warm like morning sunlight spilling across linen sheets, not like the harsh flickering bulb from that godforsaken room.I blinked slowly. My throat was dry, and every part of me ached. My limbs felt like bricks, my stomach hollow and cramping. But I was in a real bed. Clean. Soft. Covered in a thick comforter that smelled like sandalwood and soap.I wasn’t there anymore. I was safe.Then I felt it, his eyes on me.I turned my head, slowly, and there he was.Giovanni Moretti. My saviour. He had saved me twice now. From papa and now from Max.Sitting in a leather armchair beside the bed, forearms braced on his knees, head lowered like he hadn’t moved in hours. His suit jacket was off, sleeves rolled up. A faint bruise darkened his jaw. His knuckles were scraped.Must be from when he knocked that door down.And his eyes, when they met mine, they looked haunted.I opened my mou
CHAPTER 29: Giovanni's POV The night air was still, calm even, nothing like the storm brewing inside me. Two days stolen. Two days of not knowing if she was still alive, if she was hurt, if she was scared. Two days of replaying every decision that led to this moment.We crouched behind the overgrown hedges flanking the west side of the abandoned building. Cracked windows, rusted metal, a collapsed fence. It looked like nothing but my Mirabella was in there. I needed to get her back, to have her in my arms.Every inch of me was wound tight. The kind of tight that came before the storm broke. Before men bled and begged and cities burned. The kind of tight I hadn’t felt since the day I buried my sister.Lorenzo whispered beside me, “Three guards at the front. Two in the back. Cameras were cut an hour ago. Diane handled it.”I gave a single nod. My pulse didn’t race. It never did. Not when it mattered. This wasn’t rage anymore.This was resolve.I’d burned men alive for less,
CHAPTER 28: Mirabella's POV The car ride was quiet. Too quiet.Max's knuckles were tight around the steering wheel, jaw rigid, eyes locked on the dark, empty streets ahead. Streetlights flashed across his face like a warning sign, but he didn't speak.I didn’t either. Not right away.What was there to say when the man who supposedly wanted to protect you just shoved a needle in your arm and kidnapped you?Real protector-of-the-year behavior.My head still buzzed faintly, the aftereffects of whatever the hell he drugged me with making the world tilt ever so slightly. But my mind? Sharp as glass.“You realize this is illegal, right?” I finally broke the silence, my voice low but steady, eyes narrowing on his profile. “I mean, I know cops have superiority complexes, but kidnapping? Bit much.”Max's jaw flexed, but he didn’t look at me. “You wouldn’t listen. You never listen.”“Because your idea of 'listening' is me rolling over and playing scared little damsel? Sorry, not happening.”Th
CHAPTER 27: Eliana's POV I paced the length of my bedroom in my parent's house, phone clutched in my hand, the screen taunting me with silence. Two days. Two damn days since Chloe disappeared. Her last message was still there, a glowing reminder of how quickly everything fell apart."I’m at Vero’s Café. Be home soon.”But she never came home.I ran my fingers through my hair, heart pounding against my ribs. My parents thought I was being dramatic, that maybe Chloe just needed space, but no. I knew her. She wouldn't vanish like this.Unless someone made her. The thought made my skin crawl.I stormed into the kitchen where my parents were finishing dinner, their voices low, casual. The normalcy of it all grated on me."Dad," I said, sharper than intended.He looked up, eyebrows raised. "What is it, honey?""I need a number," I said, crossing my arms. "From one of your business contacts."My father exchanged a glance with my mother. "Eliana, this isn’t the time to-""It is," I snapped.