Chapter 154
The rain was still beating down on the prison rooftops when I left the room. Each step I took down the hallway echoed with a force that seemed to come from within me. I stepped firmly, my body rigid, and breathed deeply, as if trying to contain the volcano that was about to explode inside my chest. My clenched fists trembled. Every drop of sweat that ran down my neck was fuel for the fury that consumed me. Rafael. My son. With the Yakuza. How did she have the courage?
I passed two guards who instinctively backed away as soon as they crossed paths with me. I was ready to explode. And I did.
A third guard hurried over, frowning when he saw my condition.
“Mr. Moretti, are you okay?” he asked, taking a step toward me.
Without thinking, I grabbed him by the collar of his uniform with one hand and lifted him off the ground as if he weighed nothing. He let out a frightened grunt, his legs dangling in the air.
“NOTHING IS OKAY!” I growled, my eyes locked on his.
Two other guards came running up, guns drawn, pointed straight at me.
“Let him go, Vincenzo! Let him go now!” one of them shouted.
But anger blinded me. All I could think about was Rafael. How he was. What he might be suffering. My fault. Veronica’s fault. Everyone’s fault.
It was only when I heard the prison warden’s voice that I let go of the guard. He fell to the ground with a thud, choking on his own fear.
“What’s going on here?!” the warden demanded, marching toward us.
I turned to him, my eyes burning, my chest rising and falling as if I’d run a marathon. I took two steps toward him, getting close enough to feel his breathing.
“You knew.” My voice was low, threatening. “You didn’t know?”
He frowned, confused.
“About what?”
I stood a hand’s breadth from his face and shouted:
“ABOUT MY SON!”
The silence that followed was more deafening than any scream. The guards hesitated. The warden looked away for a second… and then nodded.
“Yes. I knew.”
Everything inside me froze. I clenched my teeth, my jaw aching from the tension.
“Why didn’t you tell me before?” I asked, almost speechless.
“Because I knew you would react exactly like this,” he said calmly. “I knew you would take matters into your own hands. I knew you would start a war.”
“I AM ALREADY AT WAR!” I shouted again, taking a step forward.
The warden raised his hands in a sign of calm.
“Listen, Vincenzo. We are already investigating.” We have contacts monitoring the Yakuza's movements. We still don't know exactly where the boy is. But we're close.
"I'm not going to sit around while my son is in the hands of these bastards," I growled.
"I don't expect you to wait," he replied. "But if you act on your own, you could lose everything. You could put the boy at risk."
I took a deep breath, fighting every impulse that wanted to drag me back to the violent side I'd spent years burying.
"I'm going to get Rafael. No matter what it takes."
"And we're going with you," the director said. "As soon as we have the coordinates, we'll act. It's going to be a rescue operation. And a destruction operation. They won't see what hit them."
"I'm going with you. But if you get in my way... if you hesitate..."
"If you get in my way," he cut her off, "I'll be forced to lose you again. Forever."
We stared at each other for a few seconds. Two opposing forces colliding in the silence of the hallway.
Finally, I nodded. Because he was right. Because Rafael deserved a chance.
But I knew.
Hell was just beginning.
I left the prison gates behind without looking back. I got into the car with a weight on my chest so heavy it was suffocating me. My fingers trembled as I gripped the steering wheel. I started the engine, but didn't accelerate.
I stood there, parked for long minutes, staring at the rain that washed the windshield as if it wanted to erase everything. But nothing would be erased. Nothing would be forgotten.
I screamed. A scream that no one heard. And I started punching the steering wheel.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The horn sounded muffled between blows, my knuckles began to crack, blood mixing with the dark leather of the car. But I didn't stop. It was as if I needed to feel that physical pain to balance the pain that consumed me inside.
After a while, I turned on the wipers, put the car in gear and accelerated.
The road to my mansion seemed too long. But I drove like a madman. As if every curve could take me away from the world. As if the car itself knew that my heart was no longer whole.
When I parked in front of the mansion, I took a deep breath, but I found no calm.
I entered without thinking. And I broke.
The vase closest to the entrance flew against the wall. The shards scattered like shrapnel of what I felt. The marble sculpture that I had hated since the day I bought it fell to the floor with a loud crash. A picture frame, a candlestick, the expensive lamp... everything turned to rubble in my hands.
The room filled with the sound of my fury, my despair, my helplessness.
Rachel and Nancy appeared at the top of the stairs, hurrying down, their eyes wide with fright.
“Vincenzo!” Rachel shouted, almost tripping on the last step. “What’s happening?”
I couldn’t answer. My hands were bleeding. My chest hurt. But still, my body burned inside.
Nancy approached slowly, her eyes alert, as if she were dealing with a wild animal.
“What happened?” she asked, softer, but still tense.
Rachel ran to me, touching my face, trying to make me look at her.
“Talk to me, love. Please. What happened?”
I took a deep breath. I looked into her eyes and saw the fear. The concern. The love.
“It’s Rafael,” I murmured. “He’s with the Yakuza.”
Rachel’s expression changed. From fear to shock. From shock to pain.
“What?”
“Veronica handed him over to them. As part of a deal. And now… he’s a hostage. Because of her. Because of the past.”
Nancy covered her mouth with her hand. Rachel lost her balance and I grabbed her by the shoulders.
“I’m going to bring him back,” I whispered. — No matter what happens, I'm going to bring my son home.
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