“Pack Your Things,” the Mafia Boss Snarled—By Midnight, His Wife Had Vanished Without a Trace
Chapter 3
Elena woke to the smell of gasoline.
Her head throbbed.
She opened her eyes slowly.
A dim yellow bulb hung above her.
She was lying on a wooden floor.
Her wrists were tied.
A warehouse.
She tried to move.
A chair scraped nearby.
“Don’t.”
A man’s voice.
Elena looked up.
She recognized him.
Gabriel Vieri.
Matteo’s former lieutenant.
Everyone believed Gabriel had left the city three years earlier.
Apparently, everyone had been wrong.
“You.”
Gabriel smiled.
“Your husband was always good at hiding things.”
Elena struggled against the rope.
“Where am I?”
“Somewhere Matteo won’t find you.”
“He will.”
“I know.”
Gabriel crouched.
“That is why you’re valuable.”
Elena stared at him.
“What do you want?”
“Something Matteo has.”
“I don’t know anything about his business.”
Gabriel laughed.
“You know more than you think.”
He reached into his coat.
A photograph appeared.
It showed Elena’s mother.
Alive.
Elena stopped breathing.
Her mother had supposedly died fourteen years earlier.
“No.”
Gabriel watched her face.
“Interesting, isn’t it?”
“Where did you get that?”
“Your husband.”
Elena shook her head.
“That’s impossible.”
“Is it?”
Gabriel placed another photograph beside it.
A younger Matteo stood beside Elena’s mother.
Elena’s hands went cold.
“What is this?”
“Ask Matteo.”
“He told me nothing.”
“Of course.”
Gabriel stood.
“That’s why he sent you away.”
Elena looked at him.
“You think Matteo abandoned me?”
“I know he did.”
Gabriel walked toward the door.
Before leaving, he turned.
“You have until morning to remember where your mother hid the ledger.”
“What ledger?”
Gabriel smiled.
“The one your husband killed three men to find.”
The door closed.
Elena sat frozen.
Her mother’s face remained in her mind.
She had spent fourteen years believing she was dead.
Why would Matteo have a photograph of her?
Why had he never told Elena?
And why had Gabriel mentioned a ledger?
Elena looked around the warehouse.
A broken window.
Two guards outside.
A rusted metal table.
A wall clock.
11:34 p.m.
She had less than an hour before morning.
Then she noticed something on the floor.
A small silver key.
The same shape as the one Matteo had left on her dresser.
Elena stared at it.
Matteo had not simply sent her away.
He had left her a way out.
She reached for the key.
The rope around her wrists suddenly felt less important.
For the first time that night, she smiled.
“Matteo,” she whispered.
“I know you didn’t abandon me.”
