Vittoria

34. Precipice

My heart pounds against my ribs like a prisoner demanding escape. The room feels smaller, the air thicker, as I struggle to catch my breath. Panic grips me mercilessly, squeezing my throat with icy fingers. Charlo's name echoes in my mind, the past and present colliding in a way that threatens to overwhelm me.

Consumed with panic, I bolt from the room, my vision blurred by tears, with Theo's urgent footsteps pounding behind me as he calls my name.

"Tori, breathe. You have to breathe," Theodore's voice cuts through the fog of my panic, but it does little to soothe me. He stands a few feet away, his face marred by a frown.

"How could you?" I gasp, my voice breaking. "Charlo has nothing to do with the Americans. He's innocent, Theo!"

Theodore's expression hardens, a steely resolve in his dark eyes. "You don't know that. He's involved with them, Tori. My sources are never wrong. They've kidnapped your family, and now we have him. How can you defend him?"

Because I know him. Not the shadow they're painting, but the boy who held me under the stars and swore we'd defy our fate.

I shake my head vehemently, tears streaming down my cheeks. "Your sources don't know him like I do. He would never be part of something like this."

"He wouldn't betray me," I whisper, more to myself than to Theo. "Not after..."

"Not after your teenage romance?" Theo's voice dripping with condescension and frustration. "Tori, you were kids back then. People change."

Theo steps closer, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "You're letting your emotions cloud your judgment. This is bigger than you, bigger than us. Your family's lives are at stake."

"Charlo is not a criminal!" I scream, the words tearing from my throat. "He's the boy I loved. The boy who disappeared because of my father. As much as he hated my father, he would never hurt me or my family."

Theodore's eyes narrow. All emotion is removed from his face when he speaks, "And yet, here he is, entangled with the very people who kidnapped your family. Open your eyes, Tori. He's not the same boy you remember."

"But love doesn't," I retort, my voice cracking with emotion. "What we had was real."

Theo steps closer, his hand reaching for mine, but I pull away, unable to let go of the turmoil inside me. "Do you really believe that, Tori? After all this time?"

"Yes," I say firmly, meeting his gaze defiantly. "I have to believe it."

The room falls silent, tension thickening between us like an invisible barrier. I want to explain—to make Theo understand the depth of my connection with Charlo—but words fail me.

I stagger back, the weight of Theodore's words crashing down on me. My mind flashes back to that summer, the nights spent in Charlo's arms, the whispered promises and stolen kisses. Could the boy I had loved truly be involved in such darkness?

"What do you want to do?" Theo asks me, uncertainty very clear in his voice.

"What has he told you so far?" I whisper.

Theodore's jaw tenses before he speaks, "Nothing. The fucker refuses to speak. He hasn't given us any information. He just kept asking for you."

A gasp of air sucks into my body as I think about everything that's been happening.

"Let me talk to him." I demand.

"No Vittoria, not after learning about your history," he shakes his head.

"That's exactly why I should be the one to question him. He might tell me whatever he knows. Please I have to do this." I beg.

Theo hesitates, his resolve faltering as he considers my plea. I can see the war waging in his eyes—between his protective instincts and the cold, calculated logic that governs his every move.