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[Lorenzo Castelli]
When Isotta grew tired, Lorenzo offered her his arm without comment, and she accepted it with a grateful smile.
They stopped at another stall before leaving, where Lorenzo won a small stuffed star after Matteo challenged him to prove that his earlier victories hadn’t been a coincidence.
He handed it to his mother, who laughed in surprise.
"Another one for Calypso?"
Lorenzo nodded.
Their mother hugged him again and this time Lorenzo didn’t stiffen quite as much when she wrapped her arms around him.
For a little while, he allowed himself to forget the whispers in the mansion, the expectations waiting for him at home, and the quiet suspicion that there was something about him other people would never understand.
He was simply a boy spending an afternoon with his mother and brothers.
It was an ordinary day, and he was happy.
By the time they left the amusement park, the sky had begun to darken into shades of orange and rose, and Matteo was still talking about the roller coaster as though he had personally conquered an enemy army.
Their mother settled into the back seat beside him, looking tired but content, while Lorenzo took the seat opposite them and placed the remaining prizes carefully between their feet.
The driver greeted them, and the car pulled away from the park as the lights of the attractions grew smaller behind them.
Matteo continued recounting the day’s adventures to the driver, occasionally improving the details whenever he reached a particularly impressive part of the story.
"You screamed," Lorenzo observed when Matteo claimed he had remained perfectly calm throughout the roller coaster.
"I did not."
"You screamed loudly enough to frighten the child sitting in front of you."
"He was already frightened!"
"Because you were screaming."
Isotta covered her mouth, laughing softly as Matteo protested his innocence, and Lorenzo leaned back against the seat, allowing their voices to fill the car.
He watched the familiar Italian countryside pass beyond the window, the fields and stone buildings growing darker as evening settled over the road.
His mother eventually rested her head against the seat, one hand lying protectively over her belly, while Matteo’s chatter slowed as exhaustion finally began to defeat him.
Lorenzo noticed his brother’s eyelids drooping and quietly moved the stuffed bear closer so Matteo could lean against it.
He didn’t mention the gesture, and Matteo was too sleepy to notice.
The car continued along the road toward home, carrying them through an ordinary evening after an ordinary family outing, and Lorenzo found himself thinking that he might accompany them again the next time his mother suggested it.
Perhaps not to the carousel.
He had standards.
The first sign that something was wrong came when the driver slowed unexpectedly.
Lorenzo looked up from the window, his attention sharpening as the car approached a bend in the road where another vehicle had been left across their path.
Before he could ask what was happening, headlights appeared behind them, and a second vehicle pulled close enough to prevent the driver from reversing.
The sound of gunfire shattered the evening.
Their driver jerked forward...he had been hit by a bullet to the head, and the car swerved violently before coming to a stop against the roadside.
Matteo shouted in alarm, while Isotta instinctively curled one arm around him, her other hand pressing against her belly.
Lorenzo’s mind moved faster than his fear.
He counted at least six men approaching the car, although the darkness and sudden movement made it impossible to determine whether more were waiting beyond the vehicles.
Several carried guns, and their faces were obscured by masks or the shadows cast by the headlights.
The driver was slumped over the steering wheel.
Lorenzo didn’t look at him for long because there was nothing he could do, and the men were already reaching for the doors.
"Stay behind me," he told his mother and brother, moving in front of them as the door was wrenched open.
A man grabbed his arm, but Lorenzo twisted away, earning himself a sharp blow that sent pain flashing through his shoulder.
He fought back instinctively, managing to strike the man’s face before another captor seized him from behind.
He was fourteen, outnumbered, and painfully aware that his attempts at resistance were accomplishing very little.
Still, he continued watching.
He memorized the men’s movements, the weapons they carried, the accents he could hear beneath their shouting, and the way two of them seemed to take instructions from a man standing farther back.
He searched for an opening, a weakness, anything that might help him understand how to get his family out of the situation.
But there were too many of them, and every second made the danger more apparent.
They dragged the family from the car and forced them onto the roadside while holding them at gunpoint, where the evening air suddenly felt cold against Lorenzo’s skin.
Isotta struggled to keep her balance, and Lorenzo moved toward her despite the hand gripping his shoulder.
"Don’t touch her," he snapped when one of the men seized her arm.
The man struck him across the face.
Lorenzo tasted blood, but he kept his eyes on the captor, refusing to give him the satisfaction of looking away.
"That’s the Castelli arrogance I’ve heard so much about," another man remarked, stepping closer. "Even the damn children believe the world belongs to them."
"We haven’t done anything to you!" Isotta said, her voice trembling but determined as she moved Matteo behind her. "Whatever you want, we can discuss it. Please, my son is only a child!"
"Your family has taken plenty from people who were only trying to survive," the man replied. "Your husband built his empire on blood, and now everyone expects us to accept that the fucking Castellis should rule without consequence!"
Lorenzo studied him, trying to identify the source of the accent and the meaning behind his words, but the man’s hostility seemed to come from somewhere deeper than ordinary greed.
There was resentment in the way he spoke about their family, the kind that had been nurtured for years and finally found an opportunity to become violence.
Then the man looked at Isotta’s belly.
His expression changed.
"The Don’s Omega," he said, sneering at Isotta then turning toward the others. "And she’s carrying a daughter based on the intel."
The words made Lorenzo’s stomach tighten.
He understood immediately that his mother was more than a hostage to them.
Her marriage made her valuable, and the unborn child made her even more so, because people who wanted to hurt the Castelli family would understand exactly what it meant to take a wife and daughter from their home.
Matteo had begun to cry quietly, his hands gripping Isotta’s sleeve as he shook with fear.
Lorenzo stepped forward. "T...take me instead."
His mother turned toward him so sharply that he saw the fear in her eyes before she could hide it.
"Enzo, no!"
The man facing him laughed. "And what exactly can a fourteen-year-old boy offer us?"
"Information," Lorenzo answered, forcing his voice to remain steady despite the pain in his shoulder. "I know things about the household, the security arrangements, and the people my father trusts. If you want leverage against my family, I’m more useful to you than my mother or brother."
It was not entirely true, but he understood that men like these valued usefulness, and he was willing to offer anything that might redirect their attention away from his family.
He didn’t bargain for his own safety.
He didn’t ask what they would do to him.
He only wanted his mother, little brother and unborn sister to be allowed to go home safely.
The captor studied him for a moment before exchanging a glance with the man behind him.
"You think you can negotiate with us, boy?"
"I think you came here because you want something from my family," Lorenzo replied, his voice controlled despite the terror pressing against his ribs. "I’m offering you another way to get it."
The man smiled without warmth.
"Then perhaps we’ll see how much you’re worth."
Two captors seized Lorenzo’s arms and dragged him toward the second vehicle, ignoring Isotta’s protests as she tried to reach him.
"No! Give me back my son! I’m the one you want, please!" She screamed desperately, tears trailing down her cheeks. "He’s just a child! Please!"
"Mamma," Lorenzo called, twisting around to look at her. "It’s all right. I’ll be fine."
He didn’t know whether he believed the words, but he needed her to hear them.
Even if it cost his life...
It would have better if it was him than any one of his family.
Isotta fought and struggled against the man holding her, tears spilling down her cheeks as she begged them to let her son go.
Matteo was crying openly now, reaching for Lorenzo with both hands, and Lorenzo strained against his captors until one of them tightened his grip painfully around his arm.
He could still see his family.
He could still hear them.
He could still imagine a dozen ways to escape, but every plan depended on information he didn’t have, and for the first time in his life, observation and careful reasoning offered him no reliable answer.
The captors shoved him through the open door of the second vehicle, and he stumbled into the dark interior, catching himself against the seat before they could force him down.
Then he heard his mother’s voice break through the shouting.
"Lorenzo! Please, don’t take my son! He’s only a boy! He’s only a boy!"
Lorenzo turned toward the doorway, desperate to answer her, desperate to promise that he would return home and that everything would somehow be all right.
He barely managed to draw breath before one of the men slammed the door between them.
The sound cut off her voice, leaving Lorenzo alone in the darkness with the taste of blood in his mouth, his wrists aching beneath the captor’s grip, and the terrible realization that he had no idea how to save the people he loved.