Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
I’ve truly lost everything that mattered.
Once again, I’m assaulted by the traumatic memory of Maurizio falling to his death.
I killed a man. It’s a mortal sin.
No amount of asking for forgiveness will wash the stain from my soul.
Even God has forsaken me.
My tears fall silent over my cheeks as my grim reality reaps destruction in my soul.
I’m so sorry, Angelo.
In desperate need of comfort, I dig my cell phone out of my bag and open the chat I share with Angelo. I scroll to the very beginning and read all the messages we’ve sent each other. But none of them offers me any comfort. Instead, the texts break my heart.
In this moment of devastation and darkness, I realize I wasn’t just in love with Angelo. I love him.
I love him with my whole heart and soul.
And I didn’t even get to tell him.
Angelo.
As the plane flies toward Zurich, where I have to catch a connecting flight, my soul weeps for the immense losses I’ve suffered.
Chapter 32
Angelo
One of the guards found the sedan, and after searching the vehicle, Vittoria’s luggage was retrieved from the backseat.
The tracker’s signal disappeared ten minutes ago, meaning she’s probably on a fucking plane. It’s either that or the ring was destroyed, which I seriously doubt.
“Find out what flight Vittoria is on!” I bark the order as I walk back to the SUV.
“Where are we going?” Big Ricky asks while he grabs hold of the luggage to bring it along.
“To the private jet. We need to be up in the air STAT.”
“Call me as soon as you know which flight Mrs. Rizzo took,” Big Ricky shouts at Bruno, who’s already jogging toward the airport’s entrance.
He waves a hand in the air to show he heard the order.
Jesus, baby, stop running so I can get to you.
We climb back into the SUV, and while Big Ricky drives to where the private jet is, I make a quick call to the pilot so they can refuel and get ready for take-off.
Christ. The only thing I have counting in my favor is that she’ll have to catch a connecting flight, whereas the private jet will fly directly to JFK.
I double-check to make sure I’m not wrong, and when I see that there are no direct commercial flights between Sicily and the USA, I let out a sigh of relief.
I’ll get there before her.
That’s if she’s even going to New York.
I let out an angry sigh.
I need to notify the other heads of the Cosa Nostra of what happened. Dialing a number, I listen as the call connects.
“Hey, what’s up?” Damiano mutters.
“I have bad news,” I say, my voice hoarse from all the stress. “My uncle and aunt are dead. They fucking betrayed me.”
“Jesus Christ, Angelo!” Damiano sucks in a shocked breath. “I’m so fucking sorry, brother. What can I do to help?”
“Just be on standby. I might need your help finding Vittoria.”
“Why isn’t she with you?”
“I don’t know all the details, but Vittoria ran when my uncle died. She must be traumatized and not thinking clearly.”
“Fuck,” he breathes. “Want me to try and track her down?”
I shake my head even though he can’t see me. “No. I’ve got it covered.”
“Are you on your way home?”
“Yeah,” I sigh. “As soon as I have Vittoria, I’ll call a meeting.”
“Okay. Do you want me to tell the others?”
“Please. I’d appreciate that.”
“Consider it done.” He pauses for a moment. “I’m here for you.”
“Thanks.”
As we end the call, Big Ricky stops the SUV near the private jet. I climb out of the vehicle and roll my shoulders to ease some of the tension.
My eyes land on the pilot as he rushes down the steps.
“Mr. Rizzo. We’ll be ready for take-off in thirty minutes.”
I nod before heading up the stairs, and taking a seat, I brush my hand over my face.
Jesus Christ.
My mind goes over everything I know, and leaning my head back against the headrest, I close my eyes.
Vittoria must be beside herself with fear.
Fuck, and I just got her to feel safe with me. I fucking hope to all that’s holy this incident doesn’t make her terrified of me again.
Big Ricky sits down across from me and says, “I just spoke to Bruno. Vittoria is heading to Minnesota.”
A frown forms on my forehead. “Why there, of all places?”
“It was the first available flight.”
“Tell the pilot,” I mutter.
I glance out the window, my need to hold Vittoria in my arms overwhelmingly strong.
Tori
It feels like I’m caught in a daze of terror and paranoia as I get off the plane in Minnesota.
The flight was torturously long. Twenty-six hours of reliving the nightmare over and over.
I can’t remember when last I ate, not that I’m hungry. With the pit of fear in my stomach, I feel too sick to think of food.
God, it feels like I haven’t slept for weeks. The last time I got some rest was on the flight to Sicily. My dress is all wrinkled, and my skin feels sticky.