Chapter 11 - THE HUNT
Massimo wanted twenty guards around me.
I wanted none.
We compromised at six.
“I can’t live like this,” I said.
“You can if you’re alive.”
“You’re proving my point.”
He was back at the estate three weeks later.
Recovery was slower.
Pain worse.
Anger constant.
But he trained.
Every day.
Sometimes because he believed in himself.
Sometimes because I annoyed him until he had no choice.
Luca started helping with the family business.
The legitimate part.
Shipping.
Construction.
Property.
Massimo had begun dismantling the criminal operations his father created.
It made enemies.
A lot of them.
“You can’t erase thirty years in six months,” Luca warned.
“I can start.”
“You’ll lose money.”
“Good.”
“You may lose allies.”
“Better.”
“You may get killed.”
Massimo looked toward me.
“I have motivation.”
I pretended not to hear.
But I smiled.
Camila came to see me.
I almost refused.
Eventually, I let her sit across from me in the garden.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“I know.”
“I never meant for your mother to get hurt.”
“I know.”
“Do you hate me?”
I thought about it.
“No.”
She started crying.
“That’s worse.”
“It should be.”
Forgiveness wasn’t clean.
It didn’t erase anger.
It just meant I refused to carry the poison forever.
That night, Luca brought us news.
“We found Vittorio.”
Massimo went still.
“Where?”
“Abandoned textile factory in Lowell.”
“Security?”
“Twenty men. Maybe more.”
Massimo reached for his gun.
I grabbed it first.
“No.”
“Tessa.”
“You can barely walk ten feet.”
“I’m going.”
“Then I’m going.”
“No.”
“Then you’re not going.”
He stared at me.
“You are unbelievably difficult.”
“And yet you love me.”
His expression softened.
“Unfortunately.”
We went together.
Not because it was smart.
Because Vittorio had already proved distance didn’t protect anyone.
Massimo wanted it finished.
The factory was dark.
Broken windows.
Rusting machines.
Our group moved inside.
Too quiet.
Luca whispered, “Something’s wrong.”
The lights exploded on.
Armed men appeared above us.
Vittorio stepped onto a metal walkway.
“You always were predictable.”
Massimo raised his gun.
“You always talked too much.”
Shots erupted.
We scattered.
I ducked behind machinery.
Massimo moved with a cane now.
Slow.
But upright.
A man rushed him.
Massimo fired.
Another came from behind.
I grabbed a steel bar and swung.
The man dropped.
Massimo stared at me.
“What?”
“Remind me never to annoy you.”
“You annoy me every day.”
“That explains a lot.”
Then Luca shouted.
We turned.
Vittorio had him.
Gun against his head.
“Choose,” Vittorio said.
Massimo stopped.
“Your brother…”
May you like
Then Vittorio looked at me.
“…or the woman you love.”
