Page 77 of Shot For Mercy

“Send it to Emiliano Colombo.”

I clench my fist, but Dmitri finds a pressure point easily, making me open my hand. He slides the ring off with a finality that I feel in my very bones. It’s over. Emiliano and I are done.

I’m going to die here.

I’ve looked everywhere, fucking everywhere. I searched the entire hotel. All the restrooms. My old penthouse, our new one. I searched the club. Giovanni’s. He’s nowhere to be found. The only explanation is that he was taken by the Russians, and I know where most of their warehouses are, but not all of them. I wonder if he’s even in New York anymore. Something tells me they’re not being sloppy with this, and it makes me even more nervous. What if he’s dead by the time I get to him? What if I lose him? Fuck, just the thought of it makes me sick. Weak in the knees. And isn’t that what I already am?

I fall to my knees and pull at my hair, refusing to cry any more than I already have. I have to be strong right now. I need to think clearly so I can get Cole back. But it’s hard to see past the pain. It’s impossible to not feel my heart breaking, splintering, shattering the longer he’s not by my side.

My brothers sit on the sectional couch that Cole picked, and I inhale sharply to keep my tears at bay. Everything reminds me of him. He decorated this entire fucking place. What will I do if I lose him forever? Fuck, I don’t know if I can live without him anymore. I don’t know if I want to.

There’s a ding at the elevator, and when I look toward it, there’s no one in it. Just a box. So I go and retrieve it before the door closes. It almost does, but I push it open once more, feeling like this is significant somehow. Like this small box matters. For whatever reason, I can’t fucking explain. I just know it in my bones. Maybe there’s a clue inside of it. Maybe?—

When I open the box, the first thing I see is a note and Cole’s engagement ring. My stomach drops at the implication, and a sob almost breaks free. Alessandro comes to stand next to me, offering his support by laying a hand on my shoulder, and my eyes sting. I don’t know how I can be strong like this.

Alessandro takes the box from me, shuffling stuff around, and his face pales. He grabs the note and begins to read it, but I can barely hear it over the thundering of my heart in my ears. I only catch bits and pieces of it. Every other sentence.

There’s nothing you can do.

He’s going to die.

Don’t even try to look for him.

You’ll never find him.

Look at the pictures.

I’d say I feel sorry for you, but I don’t.

Alessandro gasps, and I see what he’s holding. Pictures. His face pales further, and he tries to put them back in the box, but I just yank them away from him. I wish I hadn’t—because there’s the evidence that my son didn’t respect my relationship. That he took what he wanted, and that Cole gave it to him.

“I’m going to talk to him,” he tells me again. “Whether you want me to or not. We both know he wants to, and I need to hear it from him, Dad. I need closure.”

“What kind of closure?” I narrow my eyes at him. “Don’t you dare?—”

“What?” He rolls his eyes. “Don’t you dare kiss him? Fuck him?” I bristle, and he smiles. “Don’t worry, Dad. He’s a loyal guy. I’m sure he wouldn’t do that.”

I nod. “He is.”

“But it won’t stop me,” Matteo tells me, and I swear my stomach bottoms out. It’s about to fall out of my ass. “I need this, Dad. It’s the only way I can move on.”

I’ve never hated my son before, but I do now. I have this visceral fucking need to end him. It feels like we’re enemies now, and maybe we are. There’s no way we can come back from this. At least not on my end. He fucked me over. He?—

But isn’t that what I did to him in the first place? Maybe I need to get off my fucking high horse. But it’s hard to do it when I’m hurting this bad. I still want to hate him, and maybe I really do. Should I hate Cole too? He betrayed me more than my son did. I always suspected he was in love with Matteo as well, but this just proved it. He looks pained. Like his world is ending with a simple kiss. I don’t know how to feel about it, but it triggers my possessiveness. It makes me want to chain him to me and never let him leave my side. He’s mine, damn it. My love. My world. My fuckinghusband.

Mine.

“I think we should call Matteo,” Alessandro says softly, as if trying not to spook me. Like I’m a wild animal, and maybe I am. Right now, I feel like one. I’m feral. “He’s clearly the last one who saw him.”

“No fucking way,” I growl. “He’s dead to me.”

“You don’t mean that,” Alex soothes, but I shake my head. Because right now, I really do mean it. “He’s your son.”

“He fucked me over.”

“You fucked him over, too,” he reminds me, and I look at him with narrowed eyes. “Don’t forget that.”

“Show me the pictures,” Giovanni says, and I shake my head. “Why the fuck not?”

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