Page 82 of The Bonventi Secret
I lie back on the bed and memories flood my mind - her laugh, her body curved against mine in sleep, her soft sighs when I'd kiss her neck, the way she'd pretend to be annoyed when I disturbed her reading. Each recollection is a dagger to my heart, a reminder of what I've lost - of what I've allowed to be taken from me.
As I lay there in my thoughts, the realization hits me like a freight train.
I love her.
The truth of it crashes over me like a wave. Love. Such a simple word for such a complicated emotion. I've spent my entire life avoiding it, seeing it as weakness, watching how it destroyed people's lives. Love makes you vulnerable. Love makes you stupid. Love gets you killed in this business.
And yet here I am, brought to my knees by it.
I roll over, burying my face in her pillow, inhaling deeply. My chest feels like it's being crushed under this revelation.
I remember the first time I saw her, the fire in her eyes. The way she'd absently twist her hair while reading in the library. How she'd steal glances at me over dinner when she thought I wasn't looking. The softness in her voice when she'd said my name in the dark.
Is she scared right now?
Is she hurt?
The thoughts make my stomach turn. I've seen what the Rossis do to their enemies. The methods they use to extract information, to cause pain. If they've touched a single hair on her head, I'll…
I sit up abruptly, rage coursing through my veins like liquid fire. This isn't just about business anymore. This isn't about territory or respect or power. This is personal. The Rossis thought they could hurt me by taking her? I'll show them what true pain is. I'll make examples of them that will be talked about for generations.
"I'll burn this whole fucking city down," I growl into the darkness. "I'll paint the streets red with Rossi blood."
She's my person. She's mine. My Livia. My family.
"I'm coming for you, cara mia," I say. "And heaven help anyone who stands in my way."
LIVIA - 31
Something sharp digs into my cheek. Cold. Hard. My head pounds with each heartbeat, and nausea rolls through my stomach in waves. Pain radiates through my skull as consciousness floods back. I groan, my tongue thick and dry in my mouth. The acrid taste of chemicals lingers, making me gag.
Where am I?
I try to move, but my body feels impossibly heavy. Even my eyelids resist opening, as if they've been glued shut. After a few moments, I manage to open them, but the world remains a hazy blur. Shadows dance at the edges of my vision as I try to focus. A dim, yellowish light flickers somewhere above me.
Focus. Think. What's going on?
The sandwich shop. Alex. Gunshots.
The memory hits like a sledgehammer, and panic surges through my veins. My vision finally comes into focus, and I look around.
I'm lying on my side on what feels like concrete, the cold seeping into my bones. The air is thick with the smell of mold and stagnant water.
I try to push myself up, but my hands won't cooperate. They're bound behind my back, zip ties cutting into my wrists. My shoulders scream from the awkward position. I try to move my legs, relief flooding through me when I realize they're not bound.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I say, barely audible even to my own ears.
Stay calm, Livia. Assess.
I take in more of my surroundings. I'm in some kind of basement or cellar. Water stains dot the walls, and rusted pipes snake across the low ceiling. In one corner, a pile of rotting cardboard boxes slouches, their contents a mystery I'm not sure I want to solve.
I wiggle my toes, relieved to find I can still feel them despite the cold. My shoes are gone, I realize, as my bare feet scrape against the gritty floor.
Blood pulses against my temples, and my throat burns from whatever chemical they used to knock me out.
A rat skitters somewhere nearby. The sound makes me flinch, sending fresh waves of pain through my head. My stomach lurches, and I struggle not to vomit.
The floor beneath me vibrates slightly. An industrial building maybe? Or somewhere near train tracks? The low hum of machinery drones in the distance, punctuated by occasional metallic clangs that make me jump.
