Reckless Games (Reckless Mafia #1)

Chapter 32

Lorenzo

“The last truck has been cleared. Emir transferred the payment,” Giovanni reported, his voice cutting through the low hum of the car’s engine.

I leaned back, closing my eyes as I let the words sink in. The past weeks had been a relentless cycle of operations and transactions, but there was a hollowness to it all. “And the local thugs?” I asked, more out of habit than genuine interest.

“They’ve been neutralized,” he replied.

I opened my eyes, glancing out the window as the cityscape blurred past. The market was bustling, vendors shouting and children laughing. “Good,” I said absently. It had been a grueling week, filled with the bitter acceptance that Angela might truly be gone. The weight of that settled heavily in my chest.

After countless futile attempts to find her, I finally broke down. Giovanni had found me in my office. The weight of failure and loss pressed down on me, making it hard to breathe.

“Capo,” Giovanni said softly, a rare tenderness in his voice.

I looked up at him as my vision blurred with unshed tears. “She’s gone, Giovanni,” I whispered, the words tasting like ash on my tongue. “Angela’s gone.”

Giovanni knelt beside me, his strong hand resting on my shoulder. “We’ve done everything we could, Capo. Sometimes...sometimes we have to accept things we can’t change.” I tried to maintain my composure, to hold onto the control I was known for, but it shattered in that moment. Sobs wracked my body, and Giovanni pulled me into a tight hug. I cried on his shoulder.

“It’s okay, Capo,” he murmured.

For the first time in what felt forever, the raw vulnerability I felt was both foreign and overwhelming, but necessary. It was the first step in facing the painful truth. Now, as we drove through the market, something caught my eye. A small stall on the side of the road had dreamcatchers hanging from a wooden frame, their feathers and beads swaying gently in the breeze. My heart clenched as a vivid memory surfaced. There was something about them that excited her. I remembered we had been curled up on the couch, watching some random movie. In one scene, a dreamcatcher hung above a bed, and Angela had sat up, her eyes wide with childlike wonder.

“It’s a dreamcatcher. They say it catches bad dreams and lets the good ones through,” she pointing at the screen.

I smiled at her enthusiasm. “Do you think it really works?”

“If you believe it does, then yes.” Her face lit up. “If I see one, I promise I'll get you one,” she said decisively.

“Sure,” I laughed.

Who knew how desperate I would be to have one in my life right now?

The memory faded, and I found myself back in the car, the pain of her absence even sharper. I opened my eyes, the dreamcatchers still swaying gently in the breeze.

“Stop the car,” I said abruptly.

Giovanni looked puzzled but complied, pulling over to the side of the road. I stepped out, feeling an inexplicable pull toward the stall. As I approached, I noticed a red-haired woman examining one of the dreamcatchers with a look of fascination.

I picked up a dreamcatcher, running my fingers over the delicate threads and feathers. The red-haired woman next to me picked one up. I barely paid attention to her; my focus was entirely on the memory of Angela. But then, a familiar scent wafted through the air, stopping me in my tracks. An intoxicating mix of musk and citrus that I could never forget hit me with a reckoning force. For a second, I was completely obsessed, lost in that scent. It was my favorite drug, one that I could inhale for the rest of my life and never tire of. My heart raced, my senses sharpened, and the world around me faded, trapping me in the scent I could recognize from miles away.

The scent of her .

I whispered in disbelief, “Angela?” I froze in my position as my mind turned hazy, the scent completely clouding it.

The red-haired woman started to walk away after buying the dreamcatcher, and my eyes whipped up to her. Something in her posture, something so familiar, made my heart race. She remained oblivious to it.

“Angela!” I yelled.

The woman stilled for a moment, just a fraction of a second, before she started running. Without looking back, she ran. And I ran after her. “Angela, stop!” I called out, my heart pounding in my chest.

She darted through the crowded market, weaving between people and stalls. I pushed through, ignoring the startled looks and angry shouts. My mind was focused only on catching up to her.

Please, God! Let it be her.

“Angela, stop!” I shouted, desperation creeping into my voice.

She didn’t stop. She ran faster, her red hair streaming behind her like a flame. I pushed myself harder, my breath coming in ragged gasps. She took a sharp turn down a narrow alley, and I followed, the distance between us closing.

Just as I thought I was almost there, she took a sharp left. We were now in a quieter maze of alleys. But that wouldn’t be a problem for me. This was my city, and these walls were something I was well accustomed to.

How long will you run, little mouse?

I knew the streets like the back of my hand. As she continued straight, I took an alternate turn, a shortcut that would give me the advantage. My mind raced as I calculated the steps, the turns, the pace. The chase was on.

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