If the Lombardis knew Sofia was planning to run, it means they were watching her long before this. Watchingus.
My grip tightens. "What else do we know?"
Rico glances around, lowering his voice. "The driver Valentina trusted? He was one of Lombardi's men. It was a set-up, once again."
A slow, simmering heat spreads through my chest.
The Salvatores and the Lombardis have been circling each other for years, waiting for the right moment to strike. We control most of Nuova Speranza, but the Lombardis have been clawing for a bigger piece. If they could get their hands on something—someone—that could make me hesitate…
And now, with her being pregnant…
If the Lombardis got their hands on Sofia, they’d use her against me. The child would be an insurance policy, a living, breathing pawn in a war that’s been brewing for years.
Rico watches me carefully. "You think they know?"
I shake my head, jaw clenched. "Not yet. But they knew she was leaving, and they knew they wanted her alive." I glance at the wreck again, my mind running through every possibility. "Which means they won’t stop looking."
The thought is enough to send my fury into something lethal.
Sofia ran because she thought she was protecting our child. But she doesn’t realize she’s only put herselfcloserto the men who would use both of them to bring me to my knees.
I nod briefly at Adriano. "Double the perimeter. I want this forest searched inch by inch."
He nods, snapping orders into his radio.
I shift back to Rico. "Get someone digging into Lombardi’s movements. If they’ve got teams looking for her, I want to know where they are."
Rico dips his head quickly. "Already on it."
I touch his shoulder lightly before moving away to stalk toward the tree line.
Even with my men scouring the wreckage, voices crackling over radios, flashlights cutting through the dense undergrowth, there’s something wrong. A hollowness clings to the trees, wrapping around the broken car like a silent omen.
I step closer to the wreck, the acrid scent of burnt rubber mixing with damp earth. The metal is twisted, the front end crumpled around the thick trunk of a tree. Shattered glass glints under the beam of a flashlight, and the open passenger door gapes like a wound.
But there’s no sign of Sofia.
She was in this car. She crawled out. She got away.
Then where the fuck is she?
I scan the ground, the mud slick from the earlier rain, the forest floor uneven with patches of wet leaves and jagged roots. My breath comes slow, controlled, but my pulse is anything but steady.
Then I see a dark smear against the silver metal of the door.
I move fast, crouching beside the car. The flashlight in my hand catches another streak—this time on the ground, barely visible against the damp earth. A single drop of something deep, something red.
Blood.
A cold, sharp fear slides through my ribs, tightening like a vice.
She’s hurt.
I follow the trail, eyes trained on the uneven path leading deeper into the forest. The blood isn’t much—small droplets, spaced apart—but it’s fresh. The realization is both a relief and a warning. She’s still alive, but for how long?
The trees grow denser as I move forward, the underbrush thicker, the scent of pine and damp wood cloying in the air. Footsteps crunch behind me as Adriano and Rico close in.
"Boss," Rico murmurs, his eyes flicking to the same trail I’m following. "She’s bleeding."
