Chapter sixteen

Damian’s POV

You can always tell when bad news is about to arrive. The sound shifts. Boots drag instead of stomp. Voices fall quiet. Even the marble in my hallway seems to echo differently, like it’s bracing itself.

That’s how it was tonight. The sound of boots came first, a dull rhythm across polished stone, long before the knock. My men have never been subtle, not here. Not when they’re carrying something I don’t want to hear.

She was gone.

I leaned back in my chair, leather creaking like an old man’s knees. The whiskey glass was still half full in my hand, but it might as well have been water. It didn’t burn right anymore. Nothing did tonight.

Two quick knocks, a pause, like they were waiting for permission. I didn’t give it. The door opened anyway.

Enzo came first—big shoulders filling the frame—Matteo behind him, quiet as a shadow. Both of them looked uneasy. That never meant anything good.

“Say it,” I muttered.

Enzo and Matteo traded a glance. Enzo spoke first. “Clara’s gone. Slipped the net this morning. We tracked her as far as the train station. She ditched the tail. No trace since.”

My fingers tightened around the glass. Not enough to shatter it. Not yet.

“And Elena?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

Matteo cleared his throat. “Not good. She got Clara’s message. Won’t speak to anyone. Won’t eat. Won’t leave the apartment. Just… sits there, staring at her phone.”

I set the glass down slow, careful. Too fast and it would’ve been at the wall instead. The liquor burned my tongue even without swallowing.

Clara. That reckless, stubborn girl. I’d told her what it meant to walk away from me. Told her what it meant for Elena too. Still she’d chosen to leave—chased freedom, family, safety—whatever excuse she thought would dress up her cowardice.

But Elena…

Elena was unraveling. And that made everything messier.

“She left a message,” I said. “What did it say?”

Enzo shifted, jaw tight. “Didn’t read it myself. But one of the boys overheard Elena repeating it. Said Clara claimed she couldn’t risk her life for her. Said she had a family to protect.”

Unlike you.

The words weren’t spoken, but they landed anyway, heavy as stones. I could see Elena clutching her phone, eyes red, lips trembling, whispering those lines over and over like a prayer. The image made my chest burn not anger, not pity. Something in between. Something dangerous.

“She’s fragile,” Matteo said carefully. “If you want us to move her, we can. But… she might break.”

Break.

The irony was bitter. She’d been breaking long before I ever touched her life. Clara had just been the glue. Now the glue was gone, and the cracks were showing.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, breathing slow. “And Clara? No leads?”

“None,” Enzo admitted. “She’s smart. Covered her trail. But she won’t get far. Even with money, and connections. Eventually she’ll surface.”

“She will,” I murmured. My voice came out low, steady. “And when she does, she’ll regret thinking she could outsmart me.”

Silence rolled over the room, thick and waiting. My men wanted orders to tear through the city, drag Clara back, tighten the leash on Elena. Something. Anything.

But my head kept circling back to Elena. Her pale face. The way she flinched at shadows. The hollow look she gave me sometimes, like she wasn’t sure if I was her captor or her savior. Maybe both.

“She’s not eating?” I asked.

Matteo shook his head. “Not since yesterday. Won’t talk either. Just curls up on that mattress like the world’s ended.”

For her, maybe it had.

“Keep a man outside the apartment,” I said finally. “No one in, no one out. I’ll deal with her myself.”

Enzo frowned. “Boss, with respect… you’ve got bigger things to worry about. If Clara runs her mouth—”

“She won’t.” My tone snapped like a whip. Both men straightened. “She’s running scared, not running smart. Fear makes people sloppy. We’ll find her when the time’s right.”

“And Elena?” Matteo asked quietly.

I hesitated. The question clawed at something I didn’t want to name. Elena wasn’t a liability. Not yet. She was different. Her silence, her suffering they crept under my skin in ways they shouldn’t.

“Leave her to me,” I said at last, voice flat. “I’ll make sure she remembers who she belongs to.”

Enzo nodded once. Matteo twice. They left, boots echoing down the hall.

The silence afterward was heavier than their presence.

I stood and walked to the window, staring out at the city. Lights twinkled. Cars crawled. Life went on as if none of this mattered. But it did. Clara’s betrayal. Elena’s unraveling. Every thread tugging at the fabric of control I’d spent years weaving.

I lit a cigarette, the smoke curling lazy in the air. For a moment, I pictured Elena in that dim little apartment, knees drawn up, phone clutched tight, whispering Clara’s name into the dark. Maybe crying. Maybe worse.

The thought carved something sharp into my chest. Something I didn’t want to feel.

If Elena broke completely, she’d stop being useful. And if she stopped being useful…

I ground the cigarette out harder than I needed to. No. I wouldn’t let it get that far.

Tomorrow, I’d go to her myself. Remind her where she was. Who she had left. Clara could disappear into the wind for now. But Elena—Elena was mine to handle.

And I wasn’t about to lose another piece of what was mine.