The van turns. Then another turn. I try to keep track but it's useless. We're heading east, toward the river.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. Tony notices and holds out his hand.
"Give it."
I don't move.
He presses the gun harder into my ribs. "Give. It."
I pull out my phone. He takes it and throws it out the window.
The other man in the van suddenly pulls out a syringe.
"Wait—no—" I start to struggle but Tony holds me firm.
The needle pierces my neck. Liquid fire spreads through my veins.
"Just making the ride easier," Tony says as my vision blurs. "Don't worry. You'll wake up soon enough. Ronan's been looking forward to this."
The darkness pulls me under.
CHAPTER 32
Marco
I walkinto Vito's penthouse. My knuckles are bruised, my patience is shot, but at least we have results.
We found Elio. The bastard was hiding in a rat-hole apartment in Queens, and he didn't come quietly. Now he's secured in the basement of our warehouse, zip-tied to a chair, waiting for us to decide what to do with him.
Before that, Vito and I paid a visit to Elena's cafe. The barista—the one who's been passing messages between Elena and her contacts—needed some persuasion to explain how the system worked. A coding computer in the back room. Specific drink orders trigger specific messages. Responses come back written on the interior of the food bags.
Brilliant, actually. Simple but effective.
The barista is still breathing, though the bruises on his face and ribs will remind him not to fuck with us again. He gave us everything we needed—names, protocols, the whole operation.
After securing Elio, we decided to head back here to get Rafa to search for anything that might help us understand the Irish operation better. The identities of the attackers from the night of the ambush came back—low-level Irish soldiers, nobodieswe didn't recognize. But the confirmation is what matters. The Costellos are escalating. No more warnings. Now it's by force.
I'm walking down the hallway toward Vito's office to debrief when my phone rings.
Dante's name flashes on the screen.
Something in my gut twists. He should be with Elena.
"Talk to me," I answer, already quickening my pace.
"Marco—" Dante's voice is strained, breathing labored. "They took her. Tony—he was working for them. Had men waiting?—"
"Where?" I'm running now.
"Shot—I'm hit—Luca's down—" I hear sirens in the background. "Black van. Heading east?—"
"Stay with me, Dante. Where exactly are you?"
"Her apartment. They just—fuck—they just left. Maybe two minutes ago."
I burst into Vito's office without knocking. He looks up sharply from his desk.
"Get Rafa. Now. Elena's been taken." Into the phone: "Dante, help is coming. Stay on the line."
