Chapter 508: She Knows Nothing
"Massimo!" Enzo cried. "She knows nothing!" Enzo stepped forward, hands raised, eyes fixed on Massimo. "Massi! Look at me, please. Don’t do this."
"How do I trust what you say?" Massimo asked coldly. "You had no idea what was going on inside your own family. Your daughter funded a war beneath your roof. You cannot assure me she knows nothing."
Enzo swallowed hard. "Massimo..."
Graziella suddenly laughed through her tears. "Kill me!" she cried. "Kill me!"
"Graziella, stop," Enzo snapped, but she was no longer listening to him.
"I will gladly join my daughter," she spat, her eyes blazing with hatred. "And if David truly has her, then I hope he gives her the most terrible death possible."
Massimo rose slowly from his chair. "I will gladly do the honours." He lifted his gun and aimed it at her.
Enzo stepped in front of Graziella, placing his body between Massimo’s weapon and his wife. His face had gone pale. Behind him, Graziella was still sobbing, still shaking with rage, but Enzo stood firm. "Massimo!" He shook his head, holding his old friend’s gaze. "Please..." Enzo said. "I will do what needs to be done to find your daughter-in-law, but please, let there be no more mourning in my home. I beg of you."
Massimo lowered his gun. Enzo did not move from where he stood in front of his wife. "If I find out, Enzo...that you are in league with your son... it will pain me, but I will bury you."
Enzo swallowed. "I have nothing to do with any of this...Believe me."
Massimo held his gaze for a long second. He wanted to believe him. Hated that he almost did. Friendship, no matter how battered, did not vanish cleanly. It lingered in the bones. In old memories. "Fine," Massimo said at last. "Fine." He looked around the living room one more time. Then he stepped forward and clapped Enzo on the shoulder.
"My condolences," Massimo said and walked out.
Marco and the men followed him, boots moving across marble, guns still in hand, leaving behind a room full of people who had just finished saying their last prayers.
Graziella’s screaming started before they reached the front door. Her voice chased them through the house, breaking apart into fury as she shouted at her husband, called him weak, accused him of betraying their daughter, their blood, their vengeance. Massimo did not look back.
*****
Veronica had lost track of time. Everything had become a whirlwind of broken moments and missing hours. She remembered the plane beginning its descent, remembered David’s hand closing around her arm, remembered the sharp bite of a needle. Then the world had blurred.
After that, there was only darkness. Now she was awake or mostly awake. Her head felt heavy, her mouth dry, her limbs sluggish. She was trapped inside what looked like a warehouse office, sitting on an inflatable bed that sagged beneath her weight. The room smelled of dust as if it hadn’t been used in a while.
No windows.
No clear way out.
No clue where he had taken her.
She had no idea what city or even country they were in. She knew, with clarity that it was entirely up to her to get out of this before David managed to lure Luca there.
The true danger was on Luca. The certainty that he would follow whatever trail David left, even if it led him straight to death.
Veronica could not let that happen. She looked down at her wrist. David had cuffed one hand to a chain fixed to a hook in the wall. It gave her just enough room to move around the inflatable bed, reach the small table. Her skin was already raw beneath the cuff.
On the table sat a bottle of water. She stared at it suspiciously. Her throat was dry enough to hurt, her tongue heavy in her mouth from whatever drug he had injected into her before the plane landed, but she did not touch it. Who knew what the hell he had put inside? She would not give him another easy way to weaken her.
Minutes crawled by or maybe longer. Time had stopped behaving normally.
Then the warehouse door groaned open. Footsteps echoed across the wide, empty space beyond the office before David appeared in the doorway. In one hand, he carried a meal bag. In the other, a shopping bag.
"Hey, love," he said and walked toward her, leaned down, and pressed a kiss to her cheek.
Veronica recoiled violently, the chain snapping tight with a metallic jerk. Her skin crawled where his mouth had touched her.
David only smiled. "I brought you something to eat and change into."
Her eyes flicked to the bags, then back to him. "How am I supposed to change when I cannot use my hand?"
David’s smile deepened. "I can help you with that."
A cold shiver moved through her. She reached for the only weapon she had left.
Pleading.
"David, please...Just let me go."
Begging was the only thing she could do now. She had nothing to negotiate with.
"Why would I do that?" he asked.
The calmness of his voice terrified her as he moved around the room.
Veronica swallowed, forcing herself to keep her voice steady. "What purpose does my death or Luca’s death serve?"
David paused, then looked back at her with a slight lift of his brow. "Why would you think I want to kill you?" He sounded genuinely offended, as if she was being unfair by assuming that a man who had abducted her, beaten her, drugged her, and chained her like an animal might also be capable of killing her.
"You cannot keep me like this forever," she said.
"Can I not?" His smile returned slowly.
David stepped closer, tilting his head. "Didn’t Luca win you the same way?"
Veronica’s face hardened. "Not by torturing me and imprisoning me!"
"He did it with better living conditions. Better clothes." His gaze dropped over her.
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