Chapter 42

"Found"

Lorenzo's POV

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Ninety-five fucking days.

That was how long it had been since I'd seen Ria. Ninety-five days of suffocating in my own failure, of sleepless nights, and the constant ache of her absence. Ninety-five days of chasing shadows and fighting the weight of guilt pressing down on my chest.

I'd counted every second, every sunrise, and every fucking heartbeat.

And now, here I was. Crouched in the damp shadows of a desolate island, the taste of salt and desperation thick in the air.

"Ren." Dante's voice cut through my thoughts like a knife, sharp and grounding. He was crouched beside me, his usual smirk replaced by grim determination. "We're ready."

I glanced at him, nodding once, then turned my gaze back to the looming silhouette of the warehouse. It was a rotting structure, weathered by the elements, its windows boarded up and walls covered in graffiti. A fitting lair for the monsters we were hunting.

The waves crashed against the shore behind us, the sound a constant reminder of how isolated we were. Far from safety. Far from home.

And maybe far from hope.

My grip tightened around the handle of my gun, my knuckles aching with the force of it. I hadn't let myself think about what I'd find here. About what she might look like after ninety-five days of hell.

"Move out," I ordered, my voice low and hard.

My men sprang into action, their movements precise and silent. They'd been waiting for this as long as I had. Their loyalty to me, and to her, was unwavering.

As we advanced toward the warehouse, the air grew heavier, the smell of salt mixing with something more putrid. Blood. Sweat. Fear.

"Four guards at the entrance," one of my men whispered.

I peered through the darkness, my eyes narrowing at the sight of the guards. They were slouched, barely paying attention, their patrols lazy and predictable. Amateurs.

"Take them out quietly," I ordered.

In seconds, my men moved. A flash of a blade, the soft sound of a body hitting the ground, and the guards were down.

But the knot in my chest didn't ease.

The warehouse was a labyrinth of decay, every corner a grotesque reminder of the hell Ria might have endured. Rusted machinery loomed like skeletal remains, their jagged edges casting monstrous shadows under the flickering, unreliable light. The air was oppressive, thick with the stench of oil, sweat, and something far worse - fear. Every step echoed in the hollow silence, amplifying the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears.

"Clear this area," Dante whispered, his voice sharp and quiet, slicing through the tension like a knife.

I nodded once, and we moved with the precision of predators, our formation tight, every movement deliberate. My men swept through the darkened rooms, their weapons drawn, their eyes scanning every inch of the space. Each empty room we cleared only deepened the knot in my chest, the fear clawing at my insides.

The walls were damp, peeling with age, and littered with crude graffiti that hinted at a long history of violence and depravity. Blood stains, old and new, marred the floor, and the faint sound of dripping water was an eerie, constant backdrop. I shoved the image of Ria out of my head, refusing to imagine her anywhere near this kind of nightmare.

"Anything?" I barked at one of my men, my voice low but tinged with desperation.

"Nothing yet," he replied, his face grim.

The tightness in my chest was unbearable. Each second felt like an eternity, and the fear of what I might or might not find was suffocating.

"Ren."

Dante's hiss snapped me out of my spiraling thoughts. His body froze mid-step, and his hand shot up, signaling me to stop.

My heart clenched in my chest.

"What?" I whispered harshly, moving to his side as quickly and quietly as I could.

He didn't speak, just pointed.

At first, it didn't register. My eyes followed his finger to the end of the hallway, where a heavy metal door stood slightly ajar. Its edges were rusted, the surface dented and worn, like it had been kicked in more than once. A faint, flickering light seeped through the cracks, casting an ominous glow onto the concrete floor.

Every instinct in me screamed that this was it.

I didn't hesitate.

With a burst of strength, I shoved the door open, the rusted hinges screeching in protest. The sound echoed like a warning, too loud, too harsh.

And then I saw it.

The room was small, cramped, and filthy. The stench hit me like a punch to the gut, sweat, blood, and despair, all mingling in the suffocating air. My stomach twisted, bile rising in my throat, but nothing could have prepared me for what I saw next.

There, in the corner of the room, was a cage. A goddamn cage.

There, in the corner of the room, was a cage. A goddamn cage.

Ria.

I froze. My chest tightened, and for a moment, I couldn't move. She was curled up inside, her frame unnaturally small, like the life had been drained from her. Her arms were wrapped around something - a child. A boy, no older than six, nestled into her like she was his only shield against the horrors of the world.

"Fuck," I whispered, my voice barely audible, the weight of the scene before me choking every breath.

Ria's once-vibrant skin was pale, almost translucent under the dim, sickly light of the room. Her arms were mottled with bruises, some fresh, others faded to an ugly yellow-green. Her hands trembled even as she clutched the boy to her chest, her knuckles scraped and raw. Her hair, once shining and full, hung in limp, tangled strands, matted with dried blood and grime.

Her clothes if you could even call them that, were torn and filthy, clinging to her emaciated body. Every sharp angle of her bones was visible, a painful reminder of the suffering she must have endured.

I forced my legs to move, stumbling toward her as if the gravity of the room was pulling me in.

"Ria," I called softly, my voice cracking as I dropped to my knees in front of the cage. My hands gripped the rusted bars, the sharp edges biting into my palms, but I didn't care.

Her eyelids fluttered, and for a moment, I thought she wouldn't wake. But then her head lifted, slowly, as if even that small movement required every ounce of strength she had left.

Her eyes, those beautiful, fierce eyes met mine. But they were dull now, clouded with pain and exhaustion.

"Enzo?" she rasped, her voice hoarse, barely more than a breath.

"Yeah, my darling, it's me," I choked out, my throat tight and burning. I reached through the bars, my hand cupping her clammy cheek. Her skin was too cold, her face gaunt, her lips cracked and dry. "I've got you, Ria. I've got you. You're safe now."

Her lips trembled, and a tear slid down her dirt-streaked face, cutting a clean path through the grime. "You... you found me."

"Always," I whispered, my thumb brushing away the tear. "Always Ria Darling."

Her arms tightened around the boy, who whimpered softly but didn't move.

"Who's the kid?" Dante asked from behind me, his voice low but steady, his presence grounding me.

Ria's gaze flickered toward him briefly before returning to me. "He's... just a boy," she mumbled, her words slurring slightly. "Don't let them hurt him, Enzo. Please."

"No one's going to hurt him," I swore, my voice fierce, my gaze locked on hers. "You're both safe now. I promise."

The boy stirred, his small, pale face peeking out from Ria's chest. His wide, tear-filled eyes darted around the room, filled with fear and confusion.

I turned to my men, barking orders. "Get this cage open now! And get the medics in here!"

One of the medics rushed forward, fumbling with a pair of bolt cutters. The sound of metal snapping echoed in the small room as the lock gave way.

The moment the door swung open, I surged forward, gathering Ria into my arms. She felt weightless, her body too fragile, like she might break if I held her too tightly. Her head lolled against my chest, her breath shallow and uneven.

"Enzo..." she murmured, her voice faint, her fingers clutching weakly at my shirt.

"I'm here," I said again, my voice breaking. "I've got you. You're safe. You're coming home."

The boy clung to her desperately, his tiny hands gripping her torn shirt as if letting go wasn't an option. When one of the medics tried to pull him away, he screamed, his cries high-pitched and raw, piercing through the air.

"No!" Ria's voice, though weak, cut through the chaos. Her head jerked up, her eyes blazing with protective fury.

"Hey, hey," I soothed, brushing her hair back gently. "It's okay. He's coming with us. I'll make sure of it. No one's taking him from you."

She nodded weakly, her body relaxing slightly against me as her eyes fluttered closed again.

Dante appeared beside me, his face tight with barely contained rage. "We've got a car waiting," he said gruffly.

"Good," I replied sharply, cradling Ria closer.

As we carried her out of that hellhole, I couldn't help but glance down at her face, pale and peaceful in unconsciousness. Her lips were slightly parted, her breaths shallow but steady. Despite everything, she still looked... beautiful.

The boy clung to my side, his small fingers wrapping around the fabric of my jacket as if I were his lifeline. His tear-streaked face pressed against my arm, his body trembling with every step.

I glanced down at him, my voice softer now. "Hey, buddy. It's okay. You're safe."

His big, terrified eyes met mine, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of hope in them.

As we stepped into the cool night air, the reality of what had happened hit me like a freight train. But I couldn't let it break me. Not now. Not when Ria and the boy needed me to be strong.

This wasn't over.

Whoever had done this, whoever thought they could take my Ria and get away with it, was going to pay. And I was going to make sure they paid in blood.

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˗ˏˋ Author's note ˎˊ˗

Heyy (✿◡‿◡)

Finally!!! Now who's the boy?? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Please Vote and comment to make another insignificant human happy (^◕.◕^)

Question of chapter:

What is your favorite cartoon growing up?

I LOVED Oggie and the Cockroaches

You got this <3

Byeeee

Izel

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