His eyes widened, then his lips shut tightly as he shook his head. “Your enemies have gotten a hold of her,” he concluded firmly.Stefano’s heart pounded against his ribs like a hammer. He sat rigidly in the worn leather chair across from Bella’s father, Lorenzo Santoro, in the study of the old family home. The familiar scent of cedar bookshelves and polished mahogany did nothing to steady him. Outside, dusk pooled in deep shadows along the manicured hedges. Inside, the only movement was the slow drip of a grandfather clock marking each unbearable second.“I—” Stefano swallowed, his voice thick and hoarse. He clenched his fists in his lap. “I want to believe it’s a lie.”Lorenzo leaned back, arms folded, his weathered face grave. “I wish it were. But the men I spoke with have confirmation. They intercepted communications. They saw a black van pull away. They found tire tracks, fresh footprints. They traced phone pings to a remote area near the old ranger station. Bella is out there, S
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