Page 77 of Ruined By Blood
Enzo's arms tighten around me slightly, a silent encouragement to continue.
"It was so hard to get away," I whisper. "My father's men watched me constantly. At school, they'd wait in cars across the street. They followed me everywhere, pretending to be drivers or bodyguards."
I close my eyes, letting the memory come back fully now that I'm safe enough to face it.
"My mother had been planning it for weeks. She saved up her pain medication, the ones they gave her after my father..." I don't finish that sentence. I don't need to. "She crushed them into the guards' coffee that night. Not enough to kill them, just enough to make them sleep deeply."
Enzo's hand resumes its gentle movement on my back, grounding me to the present while my mind drifts to the past.
"She woke me at three in the morning. Had a bag packed with cash she'd been hiding, some clothes. We made it all the way to the garage." My voice gets smaller. "We were so close, Enzo. So close to getting away."
"What happened?" he asks softly.
"My father was supposed to be in Chicago for a meeting. But he came home. Caught us just as we were getting into the car." The familiar ache spreads through my chest. "He was so calm about it. That was the worst part. He didn't yell or scream. Just smiled and asked where we thought we were going."
I feel Enzo's body tense beneath me, his breathing changing slightly.
"He had my mother taken away that night. Said she needed 'specialized care' for her mental health. I didn't see her for six months after that. When they finally let me visit, she was... different. Drugged. Barely recognized me." My fingers clutch involuntarily at Enzo's skin. "And my father made sure I understood what would happen to her if I ever tried to leave again."
Enzo's hand moves to stroke my hair. "Is she still alive?"
"I think so. I haven't been allowed to see her after that one time. My father says she's too unstable for visitors." I swallow hard.
"We'll find her," Enzo says, his voice solid with certainty. "Once we deal with your father, we'll find out where she is."
I lift my head to look at his face in the darkness. His eyes are serious, his jaw set with determination that shouldn't comfort me but somehow does.
I take a deep breath, feeling vulnerable in a way I'm not used to. But here in Enzo's arms, the memories I've kept locked away seem determined to surface.
"She used to take me to this little bakery," I whisper, my voice sounding small even to my own ears. "Before my father changed everything. Every Sunday morning. There was this old woman who ran it who would save us almond cookies."
Enzo's fingers continue their gentle path through my hair, encouraging me.
"We'd take walks in the park after. Just us. She'd point out different birds and flowers." I smile against his chest, remembering. "She taught me photography. My first camera was hers—a Nikon she'd had since college."
"That's where your love for it came from?" Enzo asks softly.
I nod. "We had this game. We'd close our eyes, spin around, and take a photo of whatever we were facing when we stopped. She called them 'universe choices.'"
The memories flood back now—her laugh, her perfume, the way she'd braid my hair at night while telling me stories.
"After she was gone, I was just so lonely." My voice cracks on the last word.
"There were days I'd sit in my room just waiting. Hoping she'd somehow come back." I swallow hard. "I'd talk to myself sometimes, pretending it was her answering."
Enzo shifts, tilting my face up to his. In the dim light, his expression is fierce determination mixed with something softer.
"Listen to me, Sienna." His voice is low, intensity emanating from every word. "I will bring the entire world down if I have to, but I will find your mother."
The conviction in his voice makes my breath catch.
"The Feretti name means something. We have resources, connections. If she's out there, I'll find her." His thumb brushes away a tear I didn't realize had fallen.
Tears spill over, and my body shudders against his. I press my face into his chest, ashamed of this display I can't seem to control.
"I'm sorry," I gasp between sobs. "I don't…I'm not usually like this. I don't cry."
"Sienna," Enzo's voice is firm but gentle. "Look at me."
