Chapter Eighty Two

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Niko

As the boat glides away from the shore, it plunges into an oppressive silence that plays tricks on my mind, amplifying every whisper of the wind and the soft lapping of waves against the hull. A wave of anticipation surges within me at the thought of reuniting with Bianca, but beneath that excitement lies a disquieting suspicion about how our subsequent encounter will unfold.

Aurelio's shadow now looms large in my thoughts, and I can't shake the feeling that he is somehow entwined in this situation. The revelation that Bianca is a weapon—of the humankind—is a chilling truth that sends shivers down my spine. Its weight is almost too much to bear.

If Mitchel's warnings hold any truth, then I find myself drawn into a perilous game whose rules I do not fully comprehend. Yet, oddly enough, the idea of fighting with every ounce of my being to protect Bianca doesn't daunt me; instead, it ignites a flicker of determination within me, igniting a fire I never knew burned so fiercely.

And then we have Rossi Senior and Luca's own grandfather to think about.

It's just all too obvious not to make sense.

"How are you holding up?" Luca asks as he steps beside me, the smoky tendrils of smoke seeping from the crevices of his mouth as they curl outwards and wrap around us like a hazy veil. I can't help but feel a twinge of discomfort, knowing that Emma is at home, blissfully unaware of this moment. My knowledge urged me to hold him responsible for his actions when I knew she hated the thought of smoking around their child. Honestly, though, I was just deflecting my own problems onto him.

"You've got a smoke," I reply, gesturing toward his cigarette. He offers me one of my own, and even as I think about how wrong this is, I take it from him, sparking the lighter to ignite the tip. The first inhale fills my lungs with warmth, the familiar taste swirling in my mouth, soothing yet provocative as it spreads a comforting heat through my chest.

"You gave up," I say, my voice firm as I lock eyes with him, hoping he feels the weight of my words that I'm sure I'm repeating by this point.

"And I'll give up again. I need to take the edge off, Niko. My wife and...my wife's at home. We've covered this."

"Yeah, we did," I mutter, my eyes fixed on the glimmering light of the sun as it dances across the nearest islands. The truth is, the one I'm desperately seeking lies over half an hour away, and travelling at a meagre fifty knots won't get us there any faster. It pains me to admit how much precious time we'll be wasting on this journey this morning and then between islands that aren't particularly on top of one another.

Givanni Fucking Rossi's is the first island I've decided to hunt down. After all, it seems most likely that her grandfather might have some involvement in this tangled web of chaos.

Am I just grappling with shadows of doubt, or am I onto something significant? Either way, I'm determined to leave no stone unturned; that much is certain.

"Twenty minutes!" A voice calls from the deck below, carrying a sense of urgency that prompts Luca to nod down towards Drake, who is busy organising supplies on the lower deck.

"We need to arm ourselves; I refuse to take any chances," Luca urged, his voice steady yet charged with urgency as I watched the other two yachts align in formation behind us, their powerful silhouettes cutting through the churning waves much as we were.

Drake and Mitchel stand close by, their presence commanding attention against the backdrop of serenity. I can't help but notice how Luca deliberately arranged for the three of them—the mafia leaders—to traverse the open sea on the same luxurious yacht. If I hadn't been so preoccupied with Bianca's thoughts, I might have warned him that keeping all three powerful figures on one vessel could lead to trouble. Yet, amidst the swirling chaos of my emotions, there's a flicker of reassurance in knowing we're united should danger arise, which also paints a target on our back. I will go to any lengths, facing every obstacle in my path, to safeguard Bianca and ensure that she returns to me where she truly belongs. But can I expect the same from any of these men?

Fifteen minutes later, armed to my fucking eyeballs, I lead myself off the boat and into the knee-deep water that I couldn't care less about drenching my boots in. The waves crash around my calves, welcoming me to the island like a welcoming party.

Of course, Luca waits around for the small motorboat to bring him to shore, but I can't stand the thought of wasted time. I get his need to execute things in his own timely manner. Anyway, we agreed that six teams out take different routes, and I was starting mine early in the hopes of taking a second one.

The island is, indeed, uninhabited. Overgrowth and Mother Nature seem to be working against one another, with green trees standing tall and vibrant vines connecting them. The floor is also overgrown with wildflowers of vibrant colours and different-shaped leaves and stems.

My heart instantly sinks; the island is as untouched as any piece of land that's been abandoned for years could be, yet I feel the need to continue off the sand and into the overgrowth in an attempt to find Bianca if she truly is hidden here somewhere.

How long has Giovanni Rossi been dead?

Ten-plus years? Is this overgrowth evidence of that?

"Wait up," Jacob calls, splashing down into the water as if sent ahead to follow me in case I make a stupid decision without the others. Chance would be a fine thing unless someone held a gun to Bianca's head. Then I'd be looking to take her place, bargaining all the weapons, money, and holy water from the church in Italy to protect her.

"You don't have to help; this is my battle," I note, snapping vines and pulling them apart to create a space big enough for me to walk between two trees lacing the beach edge like bookends.

"Come on, man. You've done us great service over the years. Besides, I want to meet her and tell her she's an idiot for falling for the playboy with the big dick," he chuckles, trying for light-hearted banter.

I don't return his laughter. Instead, I frown with disappointment, and I internally hate that my previous lack of commitment has led him to believe I wasn't capable of love. Moving off, I begin the perilous walk inland, tying yarn that someone had the thoughtful idea to bring to a tree to aid us back, if we come to that.

I hold the ball, letting the line slip through my fingers the deeper into the overgrowth I get. The sun is perilously shielded above, making it dangerously dark beneath the tree coverage, and so I end up reaching back for the flashlight I had the right mind to bring. Knowing I definitely can't afford to miss a fucking thing. Not a trapped door, a tent or an old burned log fire.

Our hike lasts a few hours, and just when I think I might find something useful, any signs of life, we break through more vines that bring us to the beach once again. By the looks of the sun, we were now on the western side as the sun travelled high in the sky, nearing midday.

"Well, that brought us full circle," Jacob notes sourly, swigging greedily from a bottle of water he's been nursing for the last five or so minutes. Conversation has been at a stalemate since we entered the trees, and I'm not sorry about it.

"You see anything I might've missed?" I ask.

"Trees, vines and wildflowers?" he notes. "Nothing, man; this place looks long forgotten and never loved."

"Fuck. I honestly thought her grandfather might have had a trick up his old sleeve," I mumble as I kick at the sand as we begin to walk around the outside of the island.

"Th eold mans dead, no?"

"On paper," I mutter. "I'm starting to believe dead people come back from the afterlife. But Aurelio wasn't dead...so."

"You think he's been keeping his friends alive and fed?"

"Makes sense; who else would share his views, if not men he worked with for twenty to thirty years?"

"I hate to admit it, but I think you might be onto something. He's not been home in years, a flying visit when Mitchel called for him."

"Where's he been staying?" I ask eagerly.

"In his mansion on his island, which is not far from here, Mitchel has me keep tabs on him occasionally."

"I guess you can never trust the man you stole your title from," I nod.

"You never trust a man like Aurelio, full stop," Jacob responds.

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