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I answer the call.

“I got your message,” comes a deep voice with a thick Italian accent.

“Who is this?” I demand, although in my heart I already know the answer.

“Micah Moretti here, Lev Karsavin. I do believe it’s time we met. Looks like today’s your lucky day. I have your wife.”

My stomach bottoms out. “Give her back to me.” My free hand curls into a fist.

“When you release the shipment,” he says calmly.

“You fucking bastard. My wife has nothing to do with this.”

“Oh, but she does. She is my leverage.” He chuckles, a sound like gravel rubbing against gravel. “Release my shipment to my men in Venezuela. Once they confirm every crate is accounted for, I’ll send you an address. Your wife will be waiting there.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“You heard me. If you don’t release that shipment, your wife and her mother die.”

“Don’t you dare hurt either of them.”

“You know what to do. Come alone if you want your wife breathing when you arrive.”

He hangs up, and my world shatters.

He’s setting another fucking trap. Moretti has no intention of allowing me to leave whatever location he sends me alive. He’ll kill me and give Allegra back to Corrado.

I look toward the spot where the ambulance disappeared. It’s long gone.

I can’t believe this happened right in front of me. I was here. I was right fucking here, and I couldn’t stop it.

Allegra, I’m sorry.

Chapter

Forty-Nine

Allegra

Agray haze fills my mind, leaving my thoughts scattered and shapeless. I move my head from side to side, but it feels like it’s going to slide off my body.

What happened?

My entire body feels light and heavy at the same time. Does that even make sense?

My eyes flutter open and my gaze meets exposed brick walls and a large factory-style window. Water drips somewhere nearby.

My thoughts are still jumbled, but they surface one at a time.

Mama.

The moment I think of my mother, everything comes back. I try to bolt upright, but I’m restrained with rope. Ropes bind me to a metal chair.

Someone steps before me. I lift my head and meet the cold stare of Danillo Bellandi.

He stands over me, his arms folded across his chest and a wide smirk on his face. Behind him, Mama lies on the same stretcher that was in the ambulance.

The room looks like part of an abandoned factory.