Page 52 of Dirty Delivery

Before I can react, icy liquid slams against me, drenching me to the skin in an instant. I gasp, sputtering as the metallic taste coats my tongue. The stench hits me next—stale, bitter, and laced with the unmistakable tang of iron. Filthy water. It seeps into every inch of me. The cold bites at my skin like a thousand tiny needles. My entire body trembles uncontrollably, the thin fabric of my underwear offering no protection against the relentless chill.

The man with the gold chain chuckles darkly. “It gets real cold in here at night.” His tone is almost mocking. “Talk, or I promise you’ll be begging for mercy before sunrise.”

I bite back the urge to lash out. Giving him the reaction he wants will only make things worse. “I don’t know anything,” Irepeat, forcing my voice to remain steady. “Please, I don’t know where your son is.”

His face hardens, and he steps closer to loom over me. The smell of cheap cologne mixed with sweat is suffocating. “Liar,” he spits. “You think I’m stupid? You think you can play games with me?”

I hold his gaze, my heart pounding so hard I’m sure he can hear it. “I swear I don’t know anything.” My voice breaks as I insist. “You have to believe me.”

He doesn’t respond, just motions to his goon again. The man reaches into his pocket and pulls out a switchblade. The blade snaps open with a metallic click and glints menacingly in the dim light. My breath catches, and a fresh wave of terror crashes over me. They’re serious. This isn’t just intimidation. They’re willing to hurt me.

“You’ll talk,” Vinny’s dad says, his voice calm and cold. “Everyone talks eventually.”

I swallow hard and try to think. I can’t let them break me. I can’t give them what they want, even if I had answers. Rylan will come for me. He has to. But will he get here in time?

The blade inches closer, and I clench my fists, steeling myself. I can’t give in. Not now. Not ever.

Chapter Forty-One

Rylan

It’s been three days. Three days since I awoke wrapped around Savannah’s beautiful body, her warmth pressed against me as if it was the only thing tethering me to reality. Three days since we had brunch together, the mundane act transformed into something extraordinary because of her laugh, her smile, the way she looked at me like I was the gravity holding her together. Three days since the reality of our relationship shifted, and I realized she owns every piece of my heart and soul.

Three days since she was stolen from me. The memory of her is both a balm and a curse, the thought of her laughter a cruel echo against the silence I’ve been left with. My mind replaysevery moment, every missed sign, searching for what I could have done differently. But regret has no place here—not now. Regret won’t bring her back. Only action will.

Now, I’m consumed with a singular purpose: I will kill anyone who touches her. Everyone involved in taking her away from me will die a painful death.

I would give anything to rewind time, to freeze that morning and never leave the house without her by my side. But there’s no undoing the choices I made that have led to the circumstances we find ourselves in now. Regret is a useless companion, and I’ve traded it in favor of rage—a cold, calculated fury that drives me forward.

We’ve been working nonstop since the moment I alerted Declan about Savannah’s kidnapping. The second I hung up, I tried to contact the pilot of my family’s jet, desperate to get back home as soon as possible. He didn’t answer. My calls to the company he worked for led nowhere; they hadn’t heard from him since he reported completing the flight that brought Savannah and me to the coastal airport over a week ago. That’s when the first puzzle piece fell into place—a piece I wish had remained hidden.

Declan immediately reached out to his source—a man I’ve since learned is one of our own, embedded deep within the Castillo Famiglia. This source has been feeding Declan information about Castillos’ operations for months, a silent guardian in the shadows. But when Declan tried to reach him after the kidnapping, the line went cold. It wasn’t until yesterday that we finally received a response.

The news he brought was both a relief and a fresh wound. Savannah is alive. They have her. But our source isn’t trusted enough within their ranks to know where she’s being held. He could only confirm what I had already begun to suspect: the pilot betrayed us. He sold out Savannah’s and my location to theCastillo Famiglia. Greed sealed his fate—after he attempted to bargain for more money than was promised, they killed him. A loose end tied off with blood.

Now, red is the constant haze that colors my vision. The clock is ticking, and every second without her is another moment of agony—a sharp, unrelenting ache that threatens to consume me. I’ve barely slept, barely eaten, running on pure adrenaline and the burning need to bring her back. Declan, his men, and I are tearing apart every lead, every name, and every connection to track her down. We’ve raided safe houses, interrogated informants, and scoured every inch of our network. Each dead-end only sharpens my determination.

Declan and I barely exchange words anymore. The man is a force of nature, just as driven as I am, if not more. His loyalty to me and Savannah is unwavering, and I know he’s haunted by his own ghosts. I’ve caught glimpses of his guilt, his fury, the way his hands clench into fists whenever we hit another roadblock. He’s carrying this burden alongside me, and for that, I’ll owe him a debt I can never repay.

Late last night, we stormed an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city, acting on a tip from a low-level associate. The air was thick with dust and the stench of decay, every creak of the floorboards setting my nerves on edge. We found nothing but empty crates and the faint traces of blood smeared across the concrete floor.

Just as frustration threatened to take over, a detail caught my eye—one of Savannah’s boots, scuffed and lying on its side near the far wall, abandoned like an afterthought. The sight hit me like a punch to the gut, a stark reminder that she’s still out there, still within reach. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Enough to know they’re moving her, staying one step ahead of us. For now.

Somewhere along the way, Savannah became the woman I love; she’s my reason for breathing, my anchor in a worldthat’s spiraling into chaos. I can’t fail her. I won’t. The Castillo Famiglia thinks they can take her from me, that they can use her to hurt me, to weaken me. They’re wrong. All they’ve done is ignite a fire that will burn them to ashes.

I’ll find her. I’ll bring her back where she belongs—in my arms, safe, cherished, and away from the monsters who dared to lay a hand on her. And when I do, I’ll make sure they regret every moment of their pitiful existence. They’ll pay. Every last one of them.

This isn’t just about revenge anymore. It’s about justice. For Savannah, for me, for everything they’ve tried to destroy. They’ve underestimated what love can drive a man to do, and that will be their downfall. My hands may be stained with blood by the time this is over, but it will be worth it. For her, it will always be worth it.

Chapter Forty-Two

Savannah

It’s been days. At least, I think it has. Time is meaningless in this hell. The bright fluorescent lights overhead never dim, burning into my retinas until I’m forced to shut my eyes against the searing pain. When they aren’t assaulting me with light, it’s the sound. Deafening Italian music blares from speakers mounted high on the walls, the relentless noise battering my mind and body until I want to scream—but I can’t. My voice is hoarse from crying out, from begging for silence, for mercy.

The only sustenance they’ve given me is a tin of dog food, its stench so repulsive I’d rather starve than eat it. The cup of liquid they shove at me smells and tastes like piss, but I’ve forcedmyself to drink it a few times, just enough to stave off complete dehydration. It’s a cruel game. They know exactly what they’re doing though. The freezing buckets of water they pour over me feel like needles piercing my skin. Lately, they’ve added chunks of ice to the water, making it even more unbearable. My body shakes uncontrollably, my teeth chattering so violently I think they might crack.

Sometimes, they stand in the doorway and watch, their faces twist in amusement. They laugh at my trembling form, taunting me in Italian, their words sharp and cutting even though I don’t understand most of what they’re saying. They take pleasure in my suffering and I hate them for it. I loathe them for the power they hold over me, for reducing me to this.

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