She crosses the room and holds out the envelope.
It's plain white. No return address. No markings except my name written in block letters across the front.
I take it from her.
"Who was the courier?" Valentino demands.
"I don't know. He left before I could ask questions. Just shoved this at me and said it was life or death."
I tear open the envelope.
Something small falls into my lap.
A ring.
Gold. Simple. The wedding band I put on Antonella's finger three months ago.
My heart stops.
I reach into the envelope again. My fingers touch paper. I pull it out.
A note. Three words written in the same block letters:
WE HAVE HER.
Something else is in the envelope. Something wet.
I tip it over my palm.
Blood.
Dark red. Still damp. Smeared across a small square of white fabric.
The world goes silent.
I stare at the ring. At the blood. At the three words that have just ripped my entire existence apart.
We have her.
Antonella.
My wife.
The mother of my child.
Someone has taken her.
The sound that comes out of me isn't human.
It's a roar. Raw and primal and filled with every ounce of rage I've kept locked inside for two years. The envelope crumples in my fist. The ring bites into my palm as I squeeze it so hard the metal warps.
"BRUNO!" Valentino is in front of me, hands on my shoulders, but I can't hear him. Can't see him. Can't see anything except red.
Someone took her.
Someone put their hands on my wife.
Someone made her bleed.