Did Enzo find me? Did I —

“Cara.”

My brows furrow at that and I slowly lift my head. An old man stands in front of me, his brows drawn together. He’s wearing an expensive suit. A few scary-looking men wearing black stand behind him.

I don’t focus on them, though.

Slowly, too slowly, I stand up as the familiarity hits me at the center of my chest. The same dark eyes, the same face, even though it looks slightly older.

“Papa?” I whisper as if I’m back to being a kid.

“Yes, Cara.” He smiles, the motion making him appear older. “I’m glad I found you first. I have friends in Palermo. If you went to Rome, it would’ve been a different story.”

“Papa,” I repeat, unable to believe my eyes. Emotions swirl inside me and I’m unable to control the flow of them.

“Come here, Cara.” He opens his arms and I dive into them, hugging him so close I’m scared I’ll hurt him.

“I missed you so much, Papa.”

“I missed you, too, Cara. From today onward, no one will take you away from me.”

 

 

17

 

 

Jasper

 

 

People who don’t know torture think it’s some sort of physical pain.

Like some beatings, some punches.

It’s more than that.

It’s the decimation of the human mind. Actual torture starts physically but always ends up being mental one way or another.

It’s like waking up, hoping the torment is over, but you find yourself in the same fucking hell.

I stay like that for days — or maybe it’s been weeks or months. I lost all sense of time and space after the first few days.

All I know is that I’m hanging by my arms, my limbs dragging on the filthy concrete floor as Stephan and Marco torture the fucking daylights out of me.

It’s not only whipping or punching, but there’s also all sorts of waterboarding. Whenever I lose consciousness, they douse me with water forcing me to wake the fuck up.

While Lucio is doing this for information, these two fuckers are only doing it for their spite against me. They never liked how I was the closest to their master, how he preferred me over their miserable existences, and they make it known.

At some point, I lost hope that Angelo and the men will return for me. Maybe they were ambushed and killed, maybe Angelo rode with Rebecca into the fucking sunset.

All I know is that my only hope of escape is by taking this whole mess in my hands.

And I need to fucking escape. My little Petal has been on her own in Sicily, and if Enzo thinks I’m dead or in danger, he won’t hesitate to either finish her life or use it as a bargaining chip.

He’s an unfeeling motherfucker, just like I once was.

I never thought there would be a day where I would be tortured to within an inch of my life, and all I would be thinking about is someone else’s life. Hers.

In the blackout moments or when I try to zone out from torture, her face is all I see, with that warm genuine smile. I imagine her features etched in worry when I finally go back to her; I imagine how she’d kiss me and ride me and make all this fucking chaos disappear in the background.

That’s why I need the fuck out of here.

Lucio is getting impatient and he’s starting to think I have no information to give him about Paolo. Once he makes sure of that fact, he’ll finish my life without a second thought.

I wait for my chance patiently, ever so patiently, until one day, I get Stephan alone.

He’s the dumbest of the two. Marco often makes decisions for both of them.

“You know about my history, Steph?”

“Fuck you.” He punches me in the face and I reel against the rattling chains, gritting my teeth.

“Lucio made me his dog after killing my family.”

“And why the fuck should I care?”

“Because he did the same to you, you dumb fuck.”

“I’m an orphan,” he snarls.

“He made me believe I was an orphan, too.” I cough, spitting away the blood in my mouth.

Stephan comes closer to shut me up, but I continue, “Remember Luca, the previous hitman? He made him believe he was an orphan, too, as if he saved him when he actually murdered his entire family.”

“Shut the fuck up, Jasper.”

“Whatever, fucker, kill for your family’s murderer.” He punches me then and Marco returns so they continue their torture fest.

I repeat the same speech whenever I get Stephan alone. I can sense his resolve waning and after days, or weeks — I’m not sure — he finally releases me when Marco isn’t there.

“Angelo is here,” Stephan drags me behind him as I stumble and choke on my own blood. “I’m not saving you.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“I’m taking my revenge.”

“Your revenge?” I did look into Stephan’s past, but I didn’t find much of a trace. I came up with the whole thing that Lucio killed his parents so he’d help me; I didn’t know it was actually true.

He places a gun in my hand as he slams the storage door open. “Shoot me.”

I can barely stand on my feet as he releases me and I brace myself near the wall. Sure enough, Angelo appears in a black-tinted car.

Stephan’s eyes dart sideways, probably expecting Marco or someone else to appear.

I don’t hesitate as I aim at his shoulder and pull the trigger. He grits his teeth cursing me.

“What?” I show him my bloodied teeth. “You said to shoot you.”

“A warning would’ve been fucking nice.” He clutches his arm, clenching his jaw.

“Consider it payback for the torture.” I hold on to Angelo when he comes to my side, clutching me by the shoulder.

“I’m sorry, boss. Many of our men were killed when they came to the States.”

I curse under my breath. Fucking Lucio.

As he guides me to the car, I stumble in the back seat. Enzo is in the passenger seat, his face solemn. When I see him, my injuries almost go unnoticed. “What the fuck are you doing here? Where’s Georgina?”

He says nothing and it’s worse than if he stabbed me with a knife.

If I was in a better physical state, I would’ve grabbed him by the throat and punched him in the fucking face.

“Where the fuck is she?” I snarl then cough up my own blood.

Angelo offers me a bottle of water and I throw it away, still glaring at Enzo even though blood is dripping from my lip.

Enzo’s jaw tightens. “She’s gone.”

I pause, breathing heavily at the thought that something happened to her.

She’s gone.

Dead.

No longer alive.

“What do you mean by she’s fucking gone?”

Enzo releases a long breath. “She ran back to Paolo Costa.”

 

 

Sure enough, my little Petal ran away.

A part of me is proud of the stunt she pulled on Enzo, how she got herself to the embassy in mainland Italy even though her Italian isn’t that good. Though maybe she went to Palermo and found her way from there.

She even took the fucking cats. That takes a woman of steel, especially in a foreign land where she knows no one.