STOLEN || 18+ (Monsters #3)

.24. We won't

No one has ever broken my heart.
'But you are so sad.'
Oh, that doesn't mean it's not broken.
Broken dreams break your heart as much as people. If not more.

. . .

Giovanni

"He is bleeding all over my fucking knife."

"What else did you think would happen when you stabbed him?"

"Shut the fuck up, Dante." I took the knife out of the man's hand, the only thing which was keeping him upright, and he slumped on the ground, clutching her bleeding hand and his scream muffled by the gag in his mouth.

Dante sipped his drink. "You are ruining my living room."

"Cry about it." I grabbed the man, throwing him on the wall, smirking as he screamed when his head hit it. "He doesn't know who did it. But he still is a traitor, are you not, Rafael?"

Rafael looked up at me, surprise flashing through his swollen eyes. I knew the names of almost everyone in the famiglia even though I hadn't met all of them.

"What did he do?" Dante asked. I had just bought the man to Dante's penthouse to beat him up, knowing better than to bring him to the mansion.

"Stopped airport check for a day," I said. I had men everywhere, especially at airports. Rafael had been in charge of Lionardo da Vinci airport for the past five years. He had pulled back our guys for a day, letting Testa go in and out of Rome unchecked.

I grabbed his other hand and pinned it to the wall with my knife.

I loosened my tie and walked to the bar. I made myself a drink, watching as he pathetically tried to get the knife out of his hand. "Now we don't fucking know where Testa is."

I sipped my drink and walked back to the man. I took the gag out of his mouth. "How did Testa contact you?"

"He didn't," he cried out. "I told you. Fifty thousand euros with a note were in my home office. No security on 26th November. I didn't know it was Testa." He didn't. He just looked at the money and lost his shit. Now, I didn't know if Testa was in my territory or not. Fucking hell.

One more thing which did not make sense was that Testa had managed to kill Miss Summers, even though he should not have known where we were staying. Was he following her? The answer wasn't clear. Miss Summers used to be a spy, she'd know if she was being followed.

That meant he somehow knew where she was going to be. Where we were. We had five women as maids who worked around the mansion - four of them had tongues ripped out because of some old famiglia tradition to prevent them from talking and they were illiterate. The only one who had her tongue was the woman who cooked. But she never left the mansion. The Underbosses were unaware of our location before Miss Summers' funeral. Creeds would never tell anyone. Guards valued their lives.

How the fuck did the location get out?

. . .

I sighed as I walked inside the mansion. The thrill of the torture finally dimmed, making my previously adrenaline-filled body feel tired. I only needed my baby on my lap now.

Fabiano was brooding in the living room.

"What happened? Did you accidentally smile?"

He rolled his eyes and threw a little chip on the table. I frowned, picking it up.

It was a-

"Tracker," he said. "In Leyla's phone which she had hidden in her book."

The staff and the guards were lucky - I had planned on interrogating them.

I kept it down, trying to get a hold of my anger. That stupid little girl. "She has a phone."

"Had. I broke it. I barely kept myself from throwing in a cell."

"I will do that."

I walked away, climbed the staircase to the first floor and walked into Fabiano's bedroom.

I stopped short when my eyes fell on her. Her cheeks were covered in tears, her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open. She was crying in her sleep.

Fabiano walked inside the room and stopped beside me.

"You are not putting her in a cell."

"I'm not." I could not when she was like this.

He walked to her, sitting again the headboard, and picked her up, putting her down on his lap.

I watched as her cries quietened.

I walked closer and wiped the tears off her face, her skin felt so soft against the roughness of her fingers. I cupped her face and she snuggled into it gently.

"We are not going to tell her about the tracker," Fabiano said. "She'll blame herself."

Yes. The tracker was the reason why Testa knew our location. Why he was able to get his hands on Miss Summers. Leyla could find a way to blame herself. She was just that kind of person.

I nodded in agreement. "We won't."

. . .