The Betrayed Princess's New Reign

Luca POV:

I ran until my lungs felt like they were bleeding. The freezing Chicago rain lashed against my face, mixing with the mud and sweat already caked on my skin.

Beside me, Matteo was wheezing, dragging his feet through the dirty puddles. We finally reached the intersection in the slums where Sofia had called from.

She was sitting on a wet crate under an awning. I dropped to my knees in the mud, my heart hammering against my ribs, expecting to see broken bones or blood.

She was perfectly fine. She was pouting. She pointed to a tiny, superficial scrape on her knee. She complained that a truck had splashed water on her and she had tripped over the curb trying to dodge it.

I stared at the tiny red mark on her knee. The rain dripped from my hair into my eyes.

Suddenly, a massive, suffocating weight dropped onto my chest. My mind flashed back to the grand staircase at the estate just twenty minutes ago.

I saw Elena standing there in her black sweater. I remembered the way she held her suitcase. I remembered her eyes. They weren't angry. They weren't disappointed. They were completely empty.

A cold sweat broke out over my entire body, freezing me from the inside out. I couldn't breathe. My throat closed up.

Sofia yelled at me to get her a cab, but I couldn't hear her. I grabbed Matteo by his wet jacket. I hauled him to his feet. I turned and ran toward the university district.

We burst through the glass doors of the luxury student housing building near Chicago University. We dripped foul-smelling mud all over the expensive lobby carpet.

The security guard behind the front desk immediately stood up, his hand dropping to the baton at his belt. He looked at us like we were rabid dogs.

I slammed my hands on the front desk. My voice shook uncontrollably. Elena Vitiello. Tell me what room she is in.

The guard frowned in disgust. He typed the name into his computer. He looked back up at me, his face hard. There is no one registered here by that name.

Matteo lunged forward. He grabbed the guard's collar across the desk. That's impossible! She is the daughter of the Vitiello Underboss! Check again!

The guard shoved Matteo back violently. He grabbed his radio and called for backup.

It felt like a physical blow to the back of my head. The room spun. I shoved the lobby doors open and ran back into the storm.

A yellow cab was idling at the curb. The driver took one look at our filthy clothes and locked the doors.

I didn't think. I grabbed a loose brick from a nearby planter and smashed it through the driver's side window. Glass shattered everywhere. I reached in, unlocked the door, and ripped the screaming driver out of his seat, throwing him onto the wet pavement.

I jumped into the driver's seat. Matteo scrambled into the back. I slammed my foot on the gas pedal.

I ran five red lights. I swerved through traffic, nearly flipping the cab twice. I drove like a madman until I reached the towering iron gates of the Vitiello estate.

The gates were locked tight. I threw myself out of the cab and slammed my bloody fists against the iron bars. I screamed her name until my vocal cords tore.

The heavy side door opened. Four fully armed estate guards stepped out. They raised their assault rifles, pointing the black barrels directly at my chest.

The captain of the guard walked forward. He looked at me with pure contempt. Take one more step, and I will put a bullet between your eyes.

I grabbed the iron bars, pressing my forehead against the cold metal. Where did she go? I begged, the rain washing the blood down my face. Where is her dorm?

The captain let out a cruel, mocking laugh.

She isn't going to school, you idiot, the captain said slowly, enjoying every second of my destruction. She boarded a private jet half an hour ago. She has left Chicago. She is never coming back.

My knees gave out. I collapsed into the freezing mud. I dug my broken fingernails into the cracks of the pavement, screaming a sound that didn't even sound human.

Beside me, Matteo curled into a ball in the dirt, weeping uncontrollably. We had thrown away our only salvation for a lie.

***

Elena Vitiello POV:

The private Gulfstream jet broke through the thick gray clouds. The violent turbulence smoothed out instantly, replaced by a blinding, brilliant sunlight that flooded the cabin.

I sat in the leather seat, holding a crystal flute of champagne. I looked out the window. The vast, sprawling coastline of New York City stretched out below me, glittering like a diamond net.

The pilot's voice crackled over the intercom, announcing our final descent.

I took a slow sip of the cold champagne. I looked down at the tarmac, where a massive line of black armored vehicles was already waiting.

"New York, here I am."