The city never felt this empty before.
Lorenzo drove like a madman, his heart pounding louder than the sound of his car engine. Every corner, every alley, every familiar place—they all carried her scent, her laughter, her presence. But she was nowhere to be found.
"Keep searching!" he barked through the car phone, his voice hoarse. "Check every camera, every hospital, every police station—find her!"
His men scattered through the streets, terrified of the tone in their boss's voice. This wasn't the same Lorenzo who once ruled the underworld with an iron fist. This was a man losing his mind because of love.
Hours passed. No news.
The rain started falling heavily, blurring his vision, but he didn't care. He stopped the car in the middle of the empty street, stepped out, and fell to his knees on the wet asphalt.
"Elena!" he screamed into the night. "Please come back to me!"
No reply—only the echo of his own voice and the thunder above.
By 4 a.m., his men returned with nothing but silence.
"Boss…" one of them began softly. "We checked everywhere. There's no trace of her. It's like she disappeared."
Lorenzo clenched his fists so tight his knuckles turned white. He felt his chest burning from the inside. The pain of losing her again was worse than any bullet wound he'd ever taken.
"She's pregnant," he whispered, trembling. "She's carrying my child. And I let her walk away into danger."
He punched the hood of his car so hard that his hand started bleeding, but he didn't stop.
"I swore to protect her! I swore!"
His men stood in silence, watching their fearless boss break down like a child.
Finally, Lorenzo turned to them, his face soaked in both rain and tears. "If anyone finds her—dead or alive—you bring her back to me. Even if it costs your life."
"Yes, boss," they all replied, their voices low.
He got back into his car, driving aimlessly through the city again. He passed the park once more, hoping maybe—just maybe—she'd come back. But her phone was still there, lying cold and lifeless in his hand.
He rested his head against the steering wheel and whispered,
"Elena… where are you, amore mio? I can't breathe without you."
The next morning came, but Lorenzo hadn't closed his eyes for even a second. His face was pale, his hands trembling from exhaustion and fear. He sat in his office, surrounded by silence, staring at the photo of them on his desk—her smile glowing like the sun.
He picked up his phone again.
"Trace every possible call, message, signal—anything connected to her," he ordered. "I don't care what it takes. I'll burn this city to the ground if I have to."
As he ended the call, his eyes darkened with a deadly promise.
He may not have found her tonight.
But whoever took Elena…
was about to meet the devil himself.