Chapter 15 - The Getaway
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The speedboat tore across the black water, crashing violently over the choppy waves. Rain lashed against Isadora’s face, soaking her velvet dress and ruining her immaculate hair, but she didn't care. She clutched the bag containing the ledger to her chest, shaking violently from the freezing wind and the sheer adrenaline crash.
Gio sat beside her, his face a hard, unreadable mask as he watched the glowing lights of Naples recede into the distance.
Police sirens echoed faintly from the shoreline, but Luca’s boat was too fast, swallowed by the stormy night.
After an hour of brutal, bone-jarring travel, the boat slowed, pulling into a hidden cove along the jagged Amalfi cliffs. A small, dark stone villa sat nestled in the rocks—a secret safehouse completely off the grid.
"We lay low here until morning," Gio ordered, helping Isadora out of the boat. His grip was tight, his hands trembling slightly.
Inside, the villa was cold and dusty, but safe. Gio immediately moved to the fireplace, lighting a fire to break the freezing dampness of the room.
Isadora collapsed onto a worn leather sofa, pulling the heavy black ledger from her ruined clutch. She placed it on the coffee table.
"You did it," Gio said softly, standing over the table, staring at the book that contained the key to his father’s murder.
He didn't open it immediately. He looked at Isadora. She was shivering, her lips blue from the cold, wrapped in a thin blanket Luca had handed her.
Gio shed his wet tuxedo jacket and draped it over her shoulders. He knelt on the floor in front of her, taking her freezing, trembling hands between his warm palms, rubbing them gently to restore circulation.
"You were incredible today," Gio whispered, his dark eyes filled with a raw, unprotected awe. "When the power went out, and they opened fire... I thought I lost you."
"You told me to get down," Isadora managed a weak smile. "I listen to my boss."
"I am not your boss," Gio murmured, leaning forward until his forehead rested against hers. "You are my equal in every way, Isadora."
He finally pulled back and picked up the black ledger.
With a heavy sigh, he flipped it open.
Isadora watched as his eyes scanned the handwritten entries. The proof was undeniable. Silvio had been embezzling millions from the shipping routes, laundering the money to buy off rival capos to orchestrate a coup. And on the final page, written in Vincenzo’s own hand, was the damning evidence.
May you like
Silvio brought the wine tonight. It tastes of bitter almonds. He thinks I do not know. If I do not wake, my brother is the devil.
Gio closed the book. The silence in the safehouse was deafening. The truth was finally out, but it brought no peace—only the promise of blood.
