That tells me something important, something I can use. These men aren't random criminals looking for a quick ransom. They're connected, part of the life, operating within the same world I grew up in.
Which means they have something to lose too. Reputation. Territory. Their lives if they miscalculate.
The older man with the scar finally speaks, his voice gravelly from years of cigarettes. "We should have taken pictures earlier. Sent them already. Proof of life."
"We did," Terzo says impatiently. "I sent one from her phone."
Santino has a photo of me tied up. He knows I'm alive. That was how long ago? Several hours? Time feels strange and distorted in the darkness, with nothing to mark its passage.
"Benedetti's going to want an update soon," Scar says, checking his own phone. "He doesn't like being kept waiting."
Benedetti.
The fucking Benedettis are behind this. I know that family. Papa has mentioned them at dinner, usually with a dismissive tone. So has Santino, though he always gets a certain look when their name comes up—tense, wary, like they're a problem that keeps festering.
They're a mid-level family in the hierarchy. Not as powerful as the Costas or Marcellos, but ambitious. Always trying to expand their territory, muscle in on other families' operations, make themselves more significant than they actually are.
And apparently, they have serious beef with Santino.
"Benedetti can wait for his update," Terzo says firmly. "First, we get confirmation from Marcello that he's willing to negotiate. Then we discuss terms."
"Negotiate what specifically?" the younger one asks.
"Better terms for everything. More territory in the port district. Access to the shipping lanes." Terzo glances at me, and I make sure my face shows nothing but fear. "With her as leverage, we can get anything we want from both families."
The port.
Of course it's about the port. It's always about the port.
Papa controls the port operations. And if I marry Santino, he'll control it too, combining two powerful families' influence over the most lucrative shipping routes in the region. The Benedettis want in. They've wanted in for years, watching from the outside while other families profit. And now they think kidnapping me will force Santino's hand, will give them the bargaining power they could never achieve through legitimate means.
"What if he says no to our demands?" the younger one persists, his voice tight with nervousness. "What if he refuses to negotiate?"
"Then we make an example," Terzo says coldly, like he's discussing the weather. "Show him we're serious. Show everyone what happens when you disrespect the Benedetti family."
"By doing what? Killing her?" The younger one sounds genuinely horrified. "That's—that's not what we agreed to. You said we were just holding her for ransom. You said—"
"I said what I needed to say to get you here and participating," Terzo interrupts, his voice hardening with authority. "Now shut up and do your job. Stop questioning every decision."
Silence falls over the warehouse, heavy and tense.
The younger one doesn't argue further, but I can feel his fear radiating across the space. He's in over his head, involved in something more serious than he realized. That might be useful. Fear makes people unpredictable, makes them make mistakes.
"Please," I say, letting my voice come out small and shaky, exactly what they expect from a frightened girl. "I don't understand what's happening. Why are you doing this to me?"
Terzo turns to look at me, studying me like I'm a particularly interesting insect. "Because your fiancé thinks he owns this entire city. He needs to learn he doesn't. He needs to learn there are consequences."
"What did he do to you?" I ask, injecting confusion and innocence into my tone.
"What didn't he do?" Terzo steps closer, and I can smell cigarettes and cheap cologne. "The Benedetti family has been operating in this city for three generations. We have businesses. Legitimate businesses. And Marcello comes in like he ownseverything, like we're nothing. Shuts down our operations. Threatens our people. Takes what's rightfully ours."
I don't point out that 'legitimate businesses' in this world usually means the exact opposite. I just look scared and confused, like I have no idea what any of this means.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, letting my voice break slightly. "I didn't know any of that was happening."
"Of course you didn't know. You're just the pretty face in the arrangement. The bargaining chip." He crouches down to my eye level, and I can see the cold calculation in his expression. "But you're a very valuable bargaining chip. So valuable that Marcello's going to give us everything we want to get you back in one piece."
"And if he doesn't?" I ask, barely above a whisper.
