Chapter 6 Be Careful

Across town in Vibo Valentia, the dimly lit warehouse buzzed with tension, De Marco's men were gearing up, weapons being checked, radios crackling to life. The night reeked of gasoline, sweat, and danger.

Inside his office, Drake De Marco paced like a caged animal, cigarette between his fingers, the smoke coiling above his head in angry spirals.

"Where's that moron Rossi?" he barked, slamming his hand on the desk hard enough to rattle the glass ashtray.

"He hasn't come back yet, sir," his assistant stammered, standing just out of reach.

"Bloody useless idiot!" Drake roared, kicking over a chair. "I send him to do one simple thing, and he disappears?"

Before the man could respond, another henchman appeared in the doorway, hat in hand. "Sir," he started cautiously.

"Speak!" Drake snapped, his patience as thin as a thread.

"It's that Rossi guy..." the man said, his eyes darting nervously.

"What about him? Get to the damn point!"

"Boss..." he stammered, "we found his body... in the bin."

For a heartbeat, the room froze. Then Drake's eyes turned murderous. "In the bin?" he repeated, his voice so low it could freeze blood.

"Yes, boss. This... this was a message," the henchman said carefully. "They really did a number on him."

Drake leaned forward on the desk, the muscles in his jaw tightening as his mind pieced it together. "Morelli," he hissed, "that son of a bitch." His fist crashed down on the table again, scattering papers and a half-empty bottle of scotch to the floor.

"Boss," his assistant began nervously, "you want us to go after Morelli, the girl, or her friend?"

Drake's lips curled into a cruel smile. "I want Morelli's head on a platter," he said darkly, "but first, I want her friend, Gianna. Talana would bleed for that woman, walk through hell for her." He turned toward the window, staring out over the dark street below. "So, we'll use her as leverage. Trade her for Fabrizio's daughter."

"Got it, boss," the assistant said, hurrying out to set the plan in motion.

De Marco sank back into his chair, his cigarette burning down to the filter. The game had changed, and he intended to make the Morelli family pay.

Meanwhile, miles away, the night had quieted around a modest two-story house on the edge of town. Massimo parked his Maserati under a flickering streetlight and turned toward Talana, his gaze softening. "Let me go in first," she said gently, her tone steady but her hands trembling slightly.

"I'll be right here," he replied. "If you need anything, and I mean anything, text me. Just be careful in there, angel."

She gave him a small smile and stepped out of the car, the gravel crunching under her heels.

Inside, the air reeked of cheap wine and stale cigarettes. Her father sat slouched at the kitchen table, a half-empty bottle in hand, his face shadowed and mean. Beside him, Maria, his new wife, smoked lazily, watching Talana with cold amusement.

"Well, well," her father sneered, swirling the wine in his glass, "you finally decided to come back."

Talana's lips curled in disgust. "I'm here to warn you," she said sharply. Her eyes flicked toward Maria. "And your wife that I will not, now or ever, marry De Marco, or anyone else you arrange for me." Her words struck like a blade, final, deliberate and lethal.

Her father laughed, the sound hollow. "You think you have a choice?"

Ignoring him, Talana turned and climbed the narrow staircase to her room. The door creaked open, revealing a space that smelled faintly of perfume and dust. She went straight to her dresser and froze. The lid of her wooden box was open and empty. Her savings, everything she'd worked for was gone.

Her pulse spiked with fury. She snatched the box and stormed downstairs, slamming it onto the table. "Where is it?" she shouted.

"Where's what, you ungrateful bitch?" Maria shot back, her tone dripping venom.

"Don't play dumb!" Talana snapped. "My money! That was my tuition, my future!"

"What money is in this house is ours!" her father yelled, his voice cracking with anger, or guilt.

"You'd steal from your own daughter?" she cried. "You'd sell me to a criminal to pay off your drinking and gambling debts!"

The rage burned through her chest like wildfire. She turned to leave, but Maria's fist cracked across her face. Talana stumbled back, her cheek flaming. The taste of blood touched her tongue.

"You bitch!" Talana screamed, lunging forward before catching herself, fists trembling.

Outside, Massimo had been sitting with growing unease, watching the light from the window flicker with movement, then he heard the crash, the shouting, and he was out of the car in an instant.

The front door slammed open as he stepped inside, his presence filling the tiny kitchen with menace. "Touch her again," he said in a voice low and deadly, "and I'll make your lives a misery you'll beg to escape."

Both her father and Maria froze, their drunken bravado crumbling beneath his glare.

He reached for Talana's arm and drew her behind him, shielding her from their sight. Then he guided her out of the house without another word, his hand firm but protective on the small of her back.

The night air was cold, brushing against her swollen cheek.

Inside the car, Massimo turned to her, his voice softening. "Are you okay, angel? Did they lay a hand on you?"

Her voice was quiet, raw. "I'm fine now. They're both drunk or high, but they took everything. My tuition money's gone, and... she hit me."

His jaw tightened, a dangerous calm settling over him. "Don't worry about your tuition, I'll handle it, but promise me something, you don't go back there. Not without me, or one of my men."

She nodded silently, the anger giving way to exhaustion.

As they drove, the lights of Vibo Valentia blurred by, distant and indifferent. The hum of the engine filled the silence, until Lorenzo's name flashed on Massimo's phone.

"Talk to me," Massimo said, answering.

"Boss, there's been a break-in at Miss Gianna's apartment. We've searched the area, but she's missing."

Talana's heart dropped. She could hear every word, her breath catching in her throat.

Massimo's voice hardened. "Find her."

"We're on it, Boss," Lorenzo replied.

Talana turned toward him, her eyes wide with tears. "Find her, Max. Please."

He reached across, his hand closing gently over hers. "We will, angel. I swear to you, we'll bring her back." But even as he said it, a dark knot of uncertainty tightened in his gut.

The road stretched on, the silence between them heavy with fear, fury, and something unspoken, and neither of them noticed the unmarked car trailing them from a distance, its headlights flicking off as it disappeared into the shadows.

By the time Massimo and Talana reached the villa in Reggio di Calabria, it was quite late. The air felt heavy, thick with the scent of the sea and the tension sitting between them.

Massimo killed the engine and turned toward her. "We'll find Gianna," he said quietly, but his eyes betrayed the storm raging inside him.

Talana nodded, clutching her phone like it was the last piece of her world. "She's all I have left from before," she whispered. "If anything happens to her..."

"Nothing will," he cut her off gently, his tone both command and comfort. "Not while I'm breathing."

Her throat tightened at the quiet authority in his voice. She wanted to believe him, needed to.

They stepped inside the villa, where the warm amber lights contrasted the cold, creeping dread in her chest. "I need to change," she said, her voice barely above a murmur.

"Go ahead, angel," he said. "I'll make us something to eat."

When she disappeared down the hallway, Massimo exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. His mind churned through possibilities of who, how and why. He pulled out his phone, typing a coded message to his men to double the surveillance perimeter and keep their distance. Talana needed to believe she was acting alone, but she would never truly be unprotected.

In the kitchen, he prepared a quick seafood salad, simple yet steadying. By the time Talana returned, wearing a plain black outfit that hugged her form, her face had hardened into quiet resolve.

"Come eat," he said softly.

She hesitated, then sat across from him. For a moment, it felt normal, two people sharing a meal in the soft hum of candlelight, but the silence between them was lined with danger.

After a few bites, she set down her fork. "I should go," she said, her voice trembling just slightly.

He rose with her, closing the distance until his breath brushed her skin. "Please," he murmured, brushing his thumb over the bruise on her cheek, "be careful, angel."

Her breath caught. His touch burned, steady, protective, intimate.

"Max..." she whispered, her defenses cracking.

He leaned in, the space between them vanishing. The kiss was deep, searching, laced with desperation. The world seemed to stop around them, the only sound her soft gasp, his low hum, the storm in both their hearts.

Then, her phone pinged, a sound he knew too well. Talana glanced at it quickly, her face draining of color.

"Who was that?" he asked, voice low.

She hesitated before showing him the screen with the message: If you want to see your friend alive again, meet us at the abandoned factory across town. Don't tell anyone, or she dies.

Massimo's eyes darkened instantly. "You trust me this much," he said slowly, "to risk your best friend's life and tell me about this?"

Tears welled in her eyes. "I do," she whispered. "But, Max, please... I need to go alone. They'll know if you or your men follow. I can't risk Gianna's life."

He stared at her for a long moment, fighting every protective instinct in his body. Finally, he nodded once. "Alright," he said, though his voice carried steel. "But you won't be alone. You'll think you are, but my eyes will be on you every second." He reached for his phone again, dialing a number known only to his inner circle.

The line clicked. "Morelli," a gravelly voice greeted.

"Talana may be in danger," Massimo said quickly. "I need two or three of your best men to stay back, hidden. She wants to handle this alone, but I don't trust the setup."

"Send me the location," replied Don Roberto Sanchiano, his tone grim.

Massimo sent it immediately. "Make sure they keep distance," he added. "If they see my men, they'll bolt."

"Understood," Sanchiano replied before hanging up.

Massimo turned to her. "It's done," he said quietly.

She frowned. "What did you do?"

"I'm making sure you come back to me," he said simply.

Her chest ached at his words. "Who are you really, Max?" she asked softly.

He paused. The answer was a truth she wasn't ready for. "I'm most people's nightmare," he said at last. "But I'm your protector, always."

Massimo stood too, his jaw tight, his hands flexing uselessly at his sides. He pulled her close, one hand at the back of her neck, his thumb stroking along her jaw. "Please, be careful, angel," he whispered, his voice breaking with restraint.

Her lips parted as he bent down, capturing her mouth in a kiss that silenced every doubt. It was slow, deep, and filled with all the things they couldn't say yet, the promises, the fear, the unspoken love.

When he finally pulled away, he kept his hand on her cheek, eyes burning into hers. "I'll be waiting for you."

She gave him a trembling smile before turning away. "I'll be back soon."

As the door closed behind her, the silence in the villa grew unbearable. Massimo stood there for a long moment, staring into the night. Then his phone buzzed. A single message from Sanchiano's men: We have visual. She's being followed.