Not Mine to Keep (The Costa Family)

Oyster Bay, Long Island

My aunt was safe. Hudson and his team were fine. And the corrupt AISE agent had been arrested.

But nothing from my husband.

Not a word.

Holding my phone while waiting for him to call, I continued to pace the living room alone, unsure where everyone else was, but I knew no one was asleep. It was after midnight here but daylight now in Romania.

“Come on.” I checked my phone again. His last message to me had been three hours ago. Three freaking hours. He’d said he’d be on a plane within two.

When I looked up, catching sight of Izzy and her mother standing at the edge of the room with tears in their eyes and pale faces, my phone slipped from my hand.

“What happened?” I asked as Enzo and his father joined us.Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

“We finally spoke to The League,” Enzo said, his voice strained, and when he came farther into the room, his bloodshot eyes had me taking two steps back.

“What?” The word rattled free between my clenched teeth, and my hands knotted at my sides.

“Constantine and Alessandro were still inside the compound when a missile took out . . . took out the . . .” Enzo slammed his hand over his mouth, unable to finish, and I couldn’t connect the dots that were left hanging in the air.

“No.” I whipped my hands up and pushed the words away instead. Jedi’d them right to hell.

When my mother-in-law turned to Izzy and began sobbing, Izzy hugged her, and that officially destroyed me. Cut my legs from under me, and I fell to my knees, then to all fours. Searching for air. For life. For a reason to want to keep breathing.

“We don’t know anything for certain,” Mr. Costa snapped out.

I lifted my chin to see Enzo’s long jeaned legs before me. “What do we know?”

“Sebastian and his people are searching for them, even though it’s still . . . Well, the fires aren’t all out yet. Before the missile struck, Alessandro had said he was working on finding a way out, but Sebastian doesn’t think he found one.” Enzo crouched closer to eye level. “He believes whoever hired the Barones to start up a new conflict in the Middle East was alerted to the compound breach, and they had eyes on the place and a contingency plan: take out the compound to destroy the evidence.” I had no clue how he was remaining so steady. So focused on my eyes without crying himself as he got through answering me.

“But maybe he did make it out but couldn’t tell him?” I blinked back tears of denial.

Enzo reached for my shoulder and bowed his head, and his chest broke forward with movement as if he were about to lose it. He brought his other fist over his mouth while closing his eyes. “They were definitely inside. Their teammates had eyes on the property just before the missile strike. They didn’t make it out. At least not aboveground.” At that, he let go of me and pushed upright.

I forced myself to sit, falling back on my heels. My eyes fell to the rings on my finger. “Alessandro said the Barones were always ahead of . . .” Where was I going with this? I looked up at their father, who was still standing like a statue of shock. “The Barones would have an escape plan, wouldn’t they? Somehow The League must not have known about it.” My hand went to my stomach, and now wasn’t the time to throw up, dammit.

“I want to think that,” Enzo said, facing me again while thumbing away tears. He looked over at his mom and sister still crying. “It’s the one time I want to believe they were one step ahead of us . . . but why hasn’t anyone reached out?”

“Unless the research I sent them was right? What if . . . ?” I thought back to my research. “Constanța is one of their oldest seaports, and, um, during the Romanian War of Independence, to break from the Ottomans, there were elaborate tunnels built all over the city, leading to the sea to help bring troops and supplies.”

Mr. Costa finally budged from his fixed position, coming over to offer his hand. I allowed him to help me rise. I wasn’t sure if Alessandro had filled them in on my research, or just his team back in Romania—but considering how Enzo was looking at me like I’d lost it, I doubted they knew.

“During World War One, the tunnels were used again,” I continued, refusing to believe I was grasping at straws. No, Alessandro and his brother had made it out; there had to be tunnels. No other option was acceptable. “What if the Barones chose that location for a reason?”

“The League had the architectural blueprints. Nothing listed there about tunnels in any of their research. They had eyes on them the whole time. If that were the case, Claudio Barone would’ve gone underground instead of risking heading toward the sea, where a team was waiting to intercept him,” Enzo said, nearly shooting down my hope.

“But it’s possible,” I whispered.

Enzo frowned, but then looked at his father for direction on what to say. To do.

“Alessandro’s stubborn. So is Constantine.” Mr. Costa turned his attention on me. “No way will some missile strike be what takes them out.”

“Dad,” Izzy began, her tone somber, as if worried he was getting ahead of himself, “they’re not indestructible. I know you like to think that, but—”

“They are,” he hissed back at her, and that one tear gliding down his cheek had me falling to the floor again.

Six Hours Later

Constantine’s face filled the iPad screen his mother held, and he demanded, “Where’s Alessandro?”

Constantine was okay, but . . .

Chills scattered across my skin as Constantine tugged at the wires connected to his body, trying to remove the IV. Two nurses rushed to his side, speaking in another language—presumably Romanian—begging him to stop.

“Where. Is. He?” he hissed, one eye swollen shut. His head was wrapped as if he’d taken a blow there. One arm bandaged up, too.

“You were in surgery, sir. You need to calm down,” the nurse said, switching to English.

Enzo was already gone. The second he’d learned Alessandro was missing, he took off for the airport.

“Just tell me where my brother is,” Constantine barked out, setting his focus once again on the screen. When he visibly relaxed, I had to assume someone had upped his morphine drip to calm him down. His head rolled back, hitting the pillow. “Where is he?” he asked, groggily that time. “I was fighting Rocco . . . and then the fucker jabbed something in my neck. Next thing I know, I’m here. So what the hell happened after that?” He didn’t peer around the room for answers, only looked at us over the screen, so I had to assume none of his other teammates were there.

No, they’d be trying to track down Alessandro.

“We think Rocco has him,” Izzy whispered, the first to break the quiet on our side. “Sebastian found you, unconscious, just inside an entrance to an old underground tunnel network.”

“There was a missile strike,” Mr. Costa added, his throat thick with emotion. “The League believes the Russians—well, an oligarch—hired the Barones to start the war, and they had an armed drone on standby in case of . . .” He let Constantine fill in the blanks.

At this point, I’d cried so much, I was dehydrated and was pretty sure I’d temporarily lost the ability to produce tears.

“Alessandro was with you before you were drugged,” Mr. Costa continued, clearly doing his best to keep it together. One of us had to, I supposed.

“What do you mean?” Constantine sputtered. “Callie’s research was right?”

Yeah, it was. But from the looks of it, the tunnels aren’t exactly usable anymore. Probably not used in a hundred years. I couldn’t get those words out, though. Because I couldn’t tell him what he wanted to hear—what I needed to hear, too. That Alessandro was safe.

“The League said the tunnels are a mess. Parts appear to have collapsed and caved in decades ago,” Izzy shared in a timid tone. “They could still be down there, though. There’s a search underway.”

Constantine’s red eyes became glossy as he put it together, and his free hand curled into a fist atop his chest. “What you’re saying is you have no clue where Alessandro is?”

“There were signs a body was dragged away from where Sebastian found you.” Izzy revealed more details that Sebastian had shared with us. “The trail stopped after about a hundred feet. But they’re looking. They won’t give up. They’ll find him.”

“That means . . .” Constantine closed his eyes. “Rocco has my brother. He took him instead of me. Must’ve drugged him, too, and you know how Alessandro reacts to drugs.” A few tears slid down his cheeks.

“I’m relieved you’re okay,” Izzy said, her voice hitching, “but that surprised me, too, given your history together.”

“He did it to torture me. Because losing my brother hurts more than whatever physical pain he could put me through.” Constantine opened his eyes. “I’m sorry, Callie.” He searched me out on screen. “I couldn’t protect him. I failed . . . again.”

“Don’t say that,” Mrs. Costa cried, setting her hand on the screen as if she could physically comfort her son. “You didn’t fail, and we’ll find him.”

“If Rocco gets him out of that tunnel, he’ll go off the grid,” Constantine rasped. “Tell me they kept someone alive from the compound to torture for information. Claudio?”

“Claudio didn’t survive. Died being medevaced to the hospital.” Izzy gave him the bad news. “And only one man from his team made it, and he’s a foot soldier. Doesn’t know anything.”

“What about the op in Oslo? Successful?” Constantine asked, a touch of optimism there. “Anyone there know where Rocco may try and take Alessandro?”

“Mission success, but Rocco’s men died. No one there to help us,” Izzy told him.

“I need to get out of this bed. Help search for him. I know how that fucker thinks.” Constantine tried once again to detach himself from wires, but it didn’t take much effort for the nurses to pin him back down.

“Son, every intelligence agency on that side of the hemisphere has Rocco on their radar now. The second they make it out of the tunnel, if they haven’t already, and Rocco shows his face on any CCTV footage, they’ll lock on to him and follow the trail,” Mr. Costa said, and I wanted to immerse myself in the same kind of optimism, but . . . “Keeping Alessandro alive is Rocco’s insurance policy. He’s his hostage.”

“They’ll find him.” Izzy’s turn to be the confident one. “Enzo’s already on a plane, heading there to help.”

“Tell Enzo to pick me up the second he arrives.” Constantine lifted his hands and pushed at the air. “Don’t argue with me. I can walk out of here now. I’m fine.”

“But The League—”

“Doesn’t know Rocco like I do,” Constantine cut off Izzy. “I’m not losing more family. Are we clear?”

I stepped back from the screen, hating how helpless I felt. I’d begged Enzo to take me with him, but I’d been shot down. Same for Izzy.

Constantine shifted his attention to his father. “There’s something else you’re not telling me. What is it?”

I exchanged a look with Izzy, and she focused back on the screen and told him, “Armani heard Alessandro is missing and possibly”—Izzy paused—“dead or in Rocco’s custody. He’s already en route to New York with Marcello. He’s coming for Callie to take her home.”

“We’re not letting him take her,” Mr. Costa said before Constantine could object. “Gabriel wanted to help search for Alessandro, but at this news, he’s escorting Callie’s aunt to New York, and so he can deal with the Armani situation.”

I’d spoken to my aunt briefly, murmured a few apologies, but I’d been too much of a mess to carry on any real conversation. Until Alessandro was okay, I couldn’t think about anything else. “I’m not your problem. All I care about is that you find Alessandro.” Unsure if I could handle staying in the room any longer without another breakdown, I started for the hall, but Mr. Costa blocked the door.

“You’re family. My daughter.” He reached for my arm. “My son’s wife. That means I’ll protect you with my own life.”

“Listen to him,” Constantine said. I jolted at his deep voice and slowly turned toward the room. He’d sounded just like Alessandro then. “If Armani tries to take her, kill him, Dad. Fuck the plan to pin his death on someone else.”

My eyes went wide at his order. “No, his people will come after you for revenge. And you don’t need that, especially not now. Please, don’t do this. Not for me.” Before I could plead some more not to make any sacrifices for me, my phone chimed from a new message.

I grabbed it from the pocket of my sweatpants, prepared to ignore whoever it was.

Unknown number: *Video*

“What is it?” my father-in-law asked, and I supposed it was okay to think of him as Dad, because I refused to believe Alessandro was gone. He’d be back. So yeah, Dad it is. “Open it,” he prompted.

The blood drained from my face at the image visible behind the play button of the video.

No talking. No sound at all in the clip. Only Alessandro on the ground—but he was alive. Out of the tunnel, because he was on a bed of leaves, surrounded by trees. Still in his military clothes, but his face . . . he was lying there, banged up. Wrists and ankles bound. Mouth gagged.

He had to have given Rocco my number, but I knew he wouldn’t want me to see him like this, so the asshole must’ve forced him to do it.

“What is it?” Constantine asked.

“A video of Alessandro tied up, but he’s alive and they’re not in the tunnel anymore,” I said, surprised my voice worked. When I looked at my father-in-law, he appeared to be . . . Well, this broke him. This was what broke him.

“He’s doing this to fuck with me,” Constantine hissed. “Screw with us all. Let us know Alessandro’s alive but that he’s in control.”

“Call Sebastian,” their dad ordered, probably to Izzy. “Tell him they’re out and in the forest.”

I shivered, my eyes shooting back to my phone. I was about to replay the short clip, but my father-in-law took the phone from my hand.

“Location and timestamp are turned off on the video details, but we’ll try and trace this anyway,” he said a moment later.

“I want to see him again.” I held open my palm. He nodded and handed back the phone, and I pressed play.

All I could focus on were Alessandro’s eyes.

“Is he signaling something to us?” my father-in-law asked.

I zoomed in to see Alessandro subtly lifting his bound wrists near his heart, and with his finger he was tracing something there.

“I think so,” I whispered as I put it together. Then choked out, “X squared.”