Page 197 of Stalking Ginevra

Inside, it’s worse. Cracked plaster, sagging beams, and the ceiling looks like it could come down any second. Leo’s breaths rasp in my ear, amplified through the comms, each exhale stuttering with fear. His helmet cam swivels, displaying a dusty, dim hallway, with a light peeking through the gaps of a door on the far left.

“You see the basement stairs?” I ask.

“Yes,” Leo whispers.

“That’s where we think she’s being held,” Reaper says. “Get down there and scope it out.”

Gulping, he heads towards the door, twists the handle with a creak, and pushes it open, revealing a steep staircase illuminated by four bulbs.

Leo’s breath quickens through the comms as he descends the stairs, each creak echoing through the feed. My heart slamsagainst its cage, every beat tightening the band of tension around my chest.

The first face Ginevra should see is mine, not Leo’s. I should be the one to pull her out of this hell, yet I’m standing here, watching a coward stumble to her rescue.

“Keep your gun up,” I snap.

The camera jerks as he adjusts his grip, but the gun returns to view. My fingers twitch with the urge to yank the damn thing out of his grasp and finish this myself, but I force my focus back on the screen.

At the bottom of the stairs is an expanse of stained concrete, leading to a door.

“Open it,” I order.

He reaches out gloved fingers, grabs the handle, and twists. The door groans open, and I lean into the screen.

Inside is a square room with bare walls, another heavy door, and a metal chair bolted to the ground. Attached to it are leather restraints with thick metal buckles. But there’s no sign of Ginevra.

My stomach still plummets. At some point during the evening, my Ginevra was in this shit hole.

“What the hell?” Reaper mutters.

“There’s no one here,” Leo whispers, his voice tight. “It’s empty.”

“If I have to come down and point out that door, it will be with a bullet through your head,” I growl.

With a whimper, he continues to the next door, his breath quickening. “I don’t like the sound of this place.”

“Explain,” Reaper says.

“I-I don’t know,” he replies. “Something just feels off. Like a bad vibe.”

“Get a grip and move,” I snap.

Leo reaches out to open the door, and the screen fills with a flash, followed by the deafening roar of an explosion.

A shockwave rips through the air, a violent roar that shatters everything. We’re thrown backward, crashing into the side of the truck with bone-cracking force. Pain explodes through my shoulder as I land beside Reaper, my ears ringing with a high-pitched whine that drowns out the world. The ground tilts, and gravel bites into my palms, sharp and unforgiving.

I suck in a breath, choking on the acrid stench of smoke and burning metal, every inhale a knife to my lungs. My head spins, disoriented, my heart hammering in a frantic stutter as I scramble to my knees, searching for something, anything to ground me through the chaos.

My world is unraveling, and all I can think about is Ginevra—trapped, alone, maybe dying while I lie helpless in the dirt.

“Benito,” Reaper’s voice cuts through the fog, but it sounds muffled, as if I’m underwater. “You okay?”

I force my head to nod, the movement stiff. “Fine. Helmet absorbed the blow.”

The lie sits heavy in my throat. I’m anything but fine. I blink, fighting to clear the mist clouding my vision, forcing my focus onto the raging inferno. Flames devour the walls, consuming the house that might have been Ginevra’s prison.

Each flicker of fire feels like a personal taunt, daring me to act, to feel. I should be doing something, but all I can do is stare, my insides burning. I’ve never felt so powerless, so damned by my own inability to act.

Reaper barks orders I can’t make out, and my vision tunnels on the wreckage, every ounce of my rage funneling into a single line of thought: Victor Bellavista lured me into a trap. The bastard just played me for a fool.

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