The storm didn't just hit the sky that night—it hit Ivan Park's soul.
He stood in his office, a glass of untouched bourbon in his hand, staring at the empty leather couch where Casey used to sit. The fire in the hearth crackled, but the silence inside the villa was louder. The longer she was gone, the more the shadows twisted into shapes he couldn't ignore.
"I let her out of my sight," he muttered. "Like a goddamn fool."
The door slammed open.
Silas Moretti's name was on the file in Ivan's hand. Mirella's sudden disappearance wasn't a coincidence. Someone was moving Casey like a chess piece, and Ivan was playing blind.
"She was supposed to be safe here." His voice cracked through the room.
He threw the bourbon at the wall.
Luca's name had appeared too—through the wire Ivan had planted on one of Silas's men. Luca Alessi. That ghost from the past had returned, and now Ivan's child—and the woman carrying it—were in danger because he didn't trust his gut.
"She's not just the surrogate anymore," he whispered.
He couldn't say what she was. He hated her. Needed her. Wanted to break her and hold her in the same breath. And now she was gone.
He turned to Viktor, his second-in-command. "Call every informant in Calabria. I want Luca's throat in my hand before the week ends."
Viktor hesitated. "And the girl?"
Ivan's jaw clenched. "Bring her back. Alive. No matter what."
Somewhere outside the city, Casey watched the storm from inside an abandoned train station Luca had led them to. Mirella was asleep beside a pile of empty water bottles, snoring lightly—still in a bad mood.
Casey touched her belly. The baby had kicked again, softer this time, like it knew she needed calm.
Luca sat by the boarded-up window, sharpening a knife slowly. "You think he'll come for you?"
"I don't know," she replied.
"You want him to?"
Casey hesitated, then turned away. "I don't know that either."
Silence.
"Ivan Park isn't known for mercy," Luca finally said. "Or for love. If he comes, it's because something in him snapped."
"Good."
"You want him broken?"
"I want him to feel." Casey's voice was low, fierce. "Even if it hurts."
Back at the villa, Ivan stared at the ultrasound photo in his drawer. He hadn't even looked at it until now. He had been so obsessed with control, with bloodlines, that he never saw the woman—only the womb.
But now? Now her laugh haunted his silence. Her stubbornness lived in his chest like a thorn.
He lit a cigarette.
"I'm going to find you, Casey Finch," he murmured. "And this time... I'm not letting you leave."
Elsewhere in the city, Silas grinned as he watched footage of Casey boarding a train.
"Let's see how much the devil is willing to bleed," he said, and tossed a coin onto the table. "The game begins."
Casey sat in the silence after Luca's words, staring into the flickering candlelight that barely lit the old train station. The rain outside softened into a drizzle, but inside her chest, the storm raged on.
She pressed her palm to her belly again. The baby was still, as if listening.
"I don't hate him," she whispered.
Luca didn't answer, but the knife stopped moving.
"I want to. God, I want to. But something... something about the way he looked at me that night," she swallowed, remembering the night she tried to walk out and he blocked the door, more beast than man. "He looked lost. Like someone had finally reached the part of him he didn't want touched."
"You've always had a thing for broken things," Luca muttered. "First your mother, then the street boy who beat up your bullies, and now the king of the mafia."
Casey gave a tired laugh, but there were tears in her eyes.
"I'm tired of being someone's project," she whispered. "I want to be free."
"You're not free until you face him. And your past."
She turned to Luca. "Why are you helping me?"
He stared at her, hard. "Because you're the only real friend I ever had. And because Ivan Park took something from me once. You're my chance to take something back."
Before she could ask what, Mirella stirred with a grunt, rubbing her eyes. "Are we dead yet?" she croaked. "Because if I have to eat one more dry protein bar, I'm going to assassinate myself."
Luca chuckled. "She's delightful."
"She's annoying," Casey muttered, but a smile ghosted across her lips.
Mirella sat up and stretched. "So what's the plan? Keep hiding till your water breaks or till Ivan burns Rome to the ground?"
"I need answers," Casey said, voice steady. "I need to find someone who knew my parents before they disappeared. I think Ivan's family is tied to mine."
Mirella paused. "You think your baby daddy might've killed your real parents?"
Casey's stomach churned. "Or... maybe they worked for him. Or maybe they betrayed him. I don't know. But I'm going to find out. And I need to do it before he finds me."
Meanwhile, in Milan, Ivan stared at the map spread across the table like a war general. Pins. Strings. Red dots.
"She's not hiding," he said. "She's searching."
Viktor leaned forward. "You think she's trying to expose you?"
Ivan shook his head slowly. "No. She wants the truth. About her family. About who she is. And I kept that truth from her because I was afraid of what it would make her."
He lit another cigarette.
"But if she becomes who I think she might be... I'll lose her."
"Then destroy the truth."
"I can't," Ivan said bitterly. "Because for the first time, I don't want to bury something. I want to uncover it. Even if it breaks us."
The next morning, Casey, Luca, and Mirella made their way toward a hidden village in the mountains—a place where a retired priest once served the Park family.
It was a journey filled with bumpy roads, half-jokes, and long silences. At one point, Mirella started singing horribly on purpose to make Casey laugh, and it worked. For a moment, the sadness cracked.
But so did the safety.
Because behind them, a black SUV appeared in the rearview mirror.
Mirella cursed. "We've got company. And it's not Ivan's men."
"Drive faster," Casey whispered, clutching her stomach.
Luca slammed the gas pedal. "Welcome back to the game, sweetheart."
The chase had begun. And no one would leave untouched.