Sinful Flames

Chapter 55

Two months.

It had been two months since Chiara was taken from me, and in that time, every single day felt like a lifetime. I should’ve been focused on healing, on letting my body recover from the gunshot wound, but how could I? How could I just sit here while the woman I loved was out there, taken from me, and I had no idea where?

I would wake up every day, the pain in my heart worse than the physical pain. My wound had healed well enough, but the emptiness inside my chest only grew with each passing day. I’d sworn to protect Chiara, to keep her safe. I had made that promise long before we even met, long before I knew what she would mean to me. But I broke that promise. I had failed her, and now she was gone.

Every lead had turned into a dead end. Every connection I had in every part of the world seemed useless. The more I searched for her, the more hopeless it seemed. Matteo had been working day and night, using every bit of tech knowledge and hacker skills he had to trace her. But it was as if she had vanished into thin air, and it drove me mad.

Antonio had healed from his own injuries, but he was in no better shape than I was emotionally. Fiona had been staying with Nonna, helping take care of Antonio’s kids. She tried to talk to me a few times, tried to offer comfort, but I couldn’t accept it. I didn’t deserve it. Not when I’d let the one person who mattered most slip away.

I spent every waking moment chasing shadows, calling in favors from informants across Europe, tracking any rumors of Marco or Gio. The Vittore family was elusive, staying hidden while they plotted whatever the hell they had in store. And Chiara… she was caught in the middle of it all.

Late at night, when the house was quiet, I would sit in the dark and replay the last moments I saw her. The terror in her eyes as Marco pulled her away. The way she clutched at me, desperate for me to save her, and I couldn’t. That was the last time I heard her voice. Her voice, calling my name, pleading for me to hold on. But I failed.

And the guilt ate me alive.

I couldn’t stop imagining what they were doing to her, what kind of hell they had put her through. The worst part was the not knowing. Not knowing if she was safe, if she was alive. Not knowing if she still thought of me, or if she hated me for failing her. If I could’ve just had something—anything—then maybe the void in my chest wouldn’t feel so unbearable.

The team had done everything they could to help me in my search, but I knew they were just as lost as I was. Matteo had set up an entire base of operations at the warehouse, tracking every lead, every signal that might bring us closer to her. Antonio, even though he had recovered physically, was still not the same. We were all broken in our own way, all searching for the same missing piece.

I spent hours on the phone every day, chasing down old contacts, calling in favors, trying to find someone who could give me a clue. I reached out to people I hadn’t spoken to in years, informants across Italy, Spain, Greece, anywhere that might hold some sliver of hope. I offered more money than I could count, offered power, anything, if it meant finding Chiara. But every time, the answer was the same—nothing. No trace, no word.

It was maddening. I wasn’t just losing her, I was losing myself in the process.

One night, as I sat alone in my office, drowning in the silence, my phone buzzed on the desk. I ignored it at first, thinking it was just another dead-end lead. But when the buzzing didn’t stop, I grabbed it, hoping for something—anything—that would give me a direction to go in.

It was one of my contacts in Italy. The kind of guy who rarely called unless it was important. My heart thudded in my chest as I picked up, not daring to hope for good news.

“Gabriel,” his gruff voice came through the line. “I’ve got something for you. You’d better sit down.”

I leaned forward, my heart racing. “What is it? Have you found something?”

“There’s been a sighting,” he said. “In Florence. A woman matching Chiara’s description was seen with a group of people a few days ago. I’m not sure how reliable it is, but it’s the best lead we’ve had in weeks.”

For a moment, I couldn’t speak. Florence. The word hit me like a bolt of lightning. It wasn’t much, just a whisper, but it was more than I’d had in months. My heart hammered in my chest, the first flicker of hope I’d felt since the day she was taken.

“Where?” I asked, my voice barely steady. “Where in Florence?”

“She was spotted near the old Vittore estate, in the hills just outside the city. It’s possible that Marco’s keeping her there, but it’s heavily guarded.”

I didn’t need to hear more. I slammed the phone down and stood, my hands trembling. Florence. It was a chance, and I wasn’t about to waste it.

I grabbed my jacket, my mind racing as I burst into the hallway. Matteo was in his office, buried in his computers, but he looked up the second I stepped in.

“I’ve got something,” I said, my voice urgent. “Florence. Pack your gear—we’re going now.”

Matteo’s eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t ask questions. He jumped to his feet, grabbing his laptop and keys, already preparing for what was to come. Antonio, too, was ready. He’d been waiting for this moment as much as I had, and I could see the fire in his eyes as he geared up.

Within minutes, we were packed and ready. The flight to Florence was already arranged—courtesy of Matteo’s endless resources—and I knew there was no turning back. If Chiara was there, I’d bring her back, no matter what it took.

The pain in my chest had never truly gone away, but now, as we prepared to leave, it flared even more. The thought of seeing her again—of finding her—made my heart ache. But I couldn’t think about the what-ifs. I had to focus on the mission. On bringing her home.

“We’ll find her, Gabriel,” Matteo said quietly as we boarded the plane. “We’ll get her back.”

I nodded, my jaw clenched. “I know. And when we do… no one is going to stand in our way.”

The flight to Florence passed in a blur of tense silence. Every second felt like an eternity, my mind spinning with the possibilities. What condition would she be in when we found her? Had she been hurt, or worse? Would she even want to see me after everything that had happened?

I couldn’t let those thoughts poison me. Not now. I had to believe we’d find her, that we’d bring her home.

The moment the plane touched down in Florence, we were on the move. I could feel the tension thrumming through my veins as we drove through the city, heading for the hills, heading for her.

And this time, nothing would stop me from getting to her. Not Marco. Not Gio. No one.