Page 198 of Stalking Ginevra

I force myself up, my legs unsteady but driven by pure adrenaline and rage. It drives me forward, even as every nervethrums with terror. Heart pounding its way out of my chest, I stumble through the heat of the blaze searing my skin.

Squinting through the smoke, I ignore my burning eyes to search the wreckage as if I might spot some sign, some miracle that she’s not in there. The fire roars, a mocking beast devouring everything in its path.

Ginevra’s face flashes in my mind—every smile, every touch, every night I promised to protect her—and now, she’s paying for my failure.

Bellavista’s game is clear: I’m not just losing money. I’m losing my wife.

My phone buzzes again, yanking me back to this hell, and I’m filled with a new, desperate resolve. I will raze this city to the ground to save my wife.

I yank my phone from my pocket, my pulse a relentless hammer against my ribs, and find a message from an unknown number with a video thumbnail. Fear claws up my spine, making the finger hovering over it tremble before I click it.

The screen blazes to life, revealing a figure hiding his features behind a leather mask. “Benito Montesano, this is your final chance,” a metallic voice taunts, slicing through my composure. “Have the ransom ready, or I’ll do more than strip her naked.”

The video cuts to a dank basement, where Ginevra and Carla lie motionless on a concrete floor. My heart seizes, my vision narrows, and all I see is red.

A second later, the masked figure hoists Ginevra upright and tears at her clothes until she’s naked. My blood freezes. I can’t breathe. Can’t think. Every nightmare I’ve ever had about losing Ginevra plays in hideous technicolor, but this isn’t a dream.

Fury and helplessness crash in my chest, releasing a tidal wave of emotions threatening to burst. The leather-clad bastard runs his filthy hands over her bare skin, threatening to slice off body parts.

Terror grips my throat, hot and suffocating, urging me to act.

Reaper’s hand lands on my shoulder. “Benito.”

“Pull back the men,” I say, my voice breaking. “Find a way to reach this bastard. I’m ready to hear his demands.”

NINETY

GINEVRA

Hours after that video shoot, I’m still in that fucking basement, yanking against the cuffs, and trying to keep the chains from clanking. The metal grinds against my raw skin, making me wince. Pain shoots up my arms to my shoulders, but it’s nothing compared to the agony of being held captive.

My wrists swell, raw from the steel biting into my flesh. Gritting my teeth, I push through the ache radiating through my bones and twist my hands, testing the cuffs for weaknesses. But there’s none.

Shit. The metal is unforgiving, as solid as the frustration of being tethered to this basement like a dog on a leash.

A soft groan floats through my concentration. I glance down to find Carla stirring, her eyelids fluttering open.

“Hey,” I say through the gag. “Are you okay?”

She touches the blood caked on her temple and winces, then her gaze skims the moldy walls before finally landing on me. Breath catching, she pushes herself to sit up.

Her movements are slow and pained, making me grimace at the memory of Valentino kicking her while she was half-conscious. And for what? If she hadn’t brought me here, he’d still be festering in front of a TV set, stewing in his failure.

I swallow hard, my throat tightening. Is Carla playing me or trapped in a cycle of abuse? My heart drums in my chest, heavy with sorrow. She brought me here. She had to know something. This situation is so messed up, I don’t know what to think.

Victor didn’t bother to restrain Carla like me, but could she be shackled by invisible bonds? Some men feed into a woman’s deepest need and turn it into his weapon of control. Or maybe I’m projecting and giving her too much of the benefit of the doubt.

Carla’s eyes meet mine, so full of fear and confusion that it stings. I can’t believe this is the woman who fought that creepy oaf who dragged me into his room.

“Can you untie me?” I mumble around my gag.

Her gaze flicks down my naked body before realization hits. Eyes widening, she scoots closer, her cheeks coloring. “Oh, God.” She stumbles to her feet, fumbling with the buckle behind my head with trembling fingers. “I didn’t—I shouldn’t have?—”

Her voice cracks, and the gag drops to the floor with a soft thud. I draw in a deep breath, finally able to fill my lungs with air.

“Thanks,” I rasp.

Carla’s face flushes a deep shade of red, her eyes darting everywhere but at me. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles, her words tumbling over each other in a rush. “I didn’t know he’d do this. I thought?—”

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