Chapter 113
Aldo
Vanessa went silent on the other end of the line. Likely, she was trying to determine how much I knew—whether my words were a wild guess based on mere speculation … or I’d actually learned her secret.
The truth was, I hadn’t.
Ethan had.
Ethan had dug up Vanessa’s entire past and presented it to me on a silver fucking platter. Motives? She had plenty. And what she wanted …
“You want me, don’t you, Vanessa?” I asked, and Layla’s stare burned through my skin. “You want me to turn myself in.”
Vanessa’s sharp inhale from the other end of the line told me that I’d guessed correctly. That all the pieces Ethan had presented fit beautifully together into one picture that made her so easy to predict. To play.
Vengeance was a dangerous game. Made you deadly. Made you reckless.
Made you weak.
“My older brother killed your older brother, didn’t he?” I pressed, keeping my gaze on Layla’s blue eyes as I spoke. “And now you want me to hang for it.”
“Your piece of shit brother died before he could pay for what he did,” Vanessa snarled, and something uncurled inside my chest. Victory, maybe. Relief. Sadness.
I knew what it was to have a brother ripped away. I knew what it was to lose the thing you loved most in the world. I knew what it was to demand answers—and know you’d never find them.
“And you really think taking my son will make you feel any better?”
“No.” Vanessa’s voice was a barked laugh. “But watching you rot in a prison cell for the rest of your life surely will.”
“You sick—” Layla started, but I held up a hand for her silence.
“It won’t bring your brother back.”
“Of course it won’t. Nothing will give me back what you took.”
“And if we don’t agree?” Layla asked, her voice a low purr. “Will you continue to hunt us? Play games? Beg for war? What happens when your little brother falls, too? Then what, Vanessa? Is your vengeance worth his life?”
“Shut up,” she snarled, her voice all venom. Gone was the cool and collected queen of the underworld. Gone was the woman holding the cards. The player. I’d found her weakness.
Which was good. I was done playing. I was so fucking done with the games of the Mafia. I was tired, beaten, in pain. Afraid. My whole life, I’d been walking a map of crooked lines and hidden motives, playing games with madmen.
And I was done.
“What happens if I turn myself in?” I asked, directing my gaze toward the phone so I wouldn’t have to see Layla’s reaction. “You will return my son to Layla?”
“Of course,” Vanessa’s words dripped with honey once again. “I watch you turn yourself in at the police station—full confession to every crime you’ve ever committed—and I will personally hand-deliver Eli to Layla.”
Silence rang out in the room as we all pondered the immense gravity of those words.
Then, Layla laughed. Tilted her head back and laughed. “What a ridiculous fucking proposition. You must be insane.”
“Insane?” Vanessa murmured. “Or do I simply know that you value your son’s life more than anything else in this world?”
“Maybe I do,” Layla said, “but do you honestly think I’d let you take my husband from me like that? What kind of life would that leave for Eli?”
“So, you refuse?” Vanessa spit, tension rippling through the words. “I don’t think you’re in a place to do that.”
“Now, wait a minute,” I started. “Let’s talk—”
“No. I’m done talking. I’m done negotiating or playing games.” Layla snatched the phone off the table. “You return my son to me within the next twenty-four hours, Vanessa Rossetti, or you will personally know just how much hell the Queen of the Marcellos can rain down on your world.”
And then, she hung up.
“What!” I dove for the phone, but Layla swiped it smoothly out of my reach. My body was still so much weaker than I was used to. “What are you doing? She’ll kill him!”
“No, she won’t.” Layla slid her phone smoothly away. “She wants her vengeance. She wants you. Now that we know who she really is and what she wants, the only thing she has left is Eli. And she’s smart enough to know better than to throw that away.”
“Doesn’t mean she’s going to return him.” I dug a hand through my hair, tugging the strands painfully tight. Then, I slammed my open palm against the table, the sound like a gunshot. “Fuck! That fucking bitch!”
Carlo exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple. “This is bad. She’s got us by the throat.”
Layla stood, shoving her chair back with enough force that it nearly toppled over. “No, she doesn’t. We know so much more than we did before.”
“We do.” I nodded slowly, but the panic and fear made my hands shake. Mine. Mafia King—my hands shook when even Layla’s didn’t. “But that doesn’t mean we can find her.”
Layla started pacing, and I could only imagine how fast her thoughts must have been whirring, each possibility running through her mind darker than the last.
At least, that’s how my mind was working. And it kept coming back to the same bottom line: Vanessa had Eli, and that meant she had everything.
“Surrendering is out of the question,” Layla snapped, like she could read my thoughts. “You’re not turning yourself in.”
“No, but there’s someone else we could turn in.” Carlo’s words cracked across the room in another gunshot’s report. “The person she really wants her revenge on.”
His meaning hit me like a punch to the gut.
Her revenge wasn’t on me, not truly. It was my late brother she wanted—Matteo Marcello.
Except, Matteo wasn’t dead, was he?
“No,” I said. “No way. We’re not giving her anything.”
“Except yourself, is that it?” Layla crossed her arms and leveled me with a calculating blue stare. “You’d turn yourself in but not someone who’d just as easily throw you behind bars for life?”
“And what about you, Layla?” I asked. “Could you sell out a man you once called a friend? How would that make you any better than her?”
Her mouth hardened into a thin line.
“Ethan has answers,” I reminded her, softening my voice. “If anyone can help us, it’s him.”
“He’s made it very clear, his position on working with the Mafia,” Carlo protested. “And just how he thinks of each of us.”
“But if anyone can track Vanessa down, it’s him,” I insisted. “He has all the information. More than I ever imagined. It’s just a matter of sitting down and puzzling it all out.”
“If he’ll let us,” Layla reminded me. “Which, I’m sure, he won’t.”
“Even to save Eli?”
She scoffed. “He doesn’t care about Eli any more than he cares about you.”
“But he cares about you.”
Her gaze shifted sideways, away from me, as it fell out of focus. “He cared about the person I used to be. But I think we all know I stopped being that woman a long time ago.”
“At least let me try,” I said, and I realized I was begging. “I can reach him.”
“Fine.” Carlo nodded his brief assent. “And when we find out where she’s keeping Eli?”
Layla’s eyes were cold, hard as steel. "Then we go in, and we take him back. No matter the cost.”
A heavy silence fell over the room. It wasn’t just about rescuing Eli anymore. This was war, and Layla was ready to burn everything to the ground to get her family back.
I had never seen her more beautiful and fearsome.
