"How long will this take?" I ask through gritted teeth.
"As long as it takes to do it right." Vito meets my eyes. "I know what you're feeling, Marco. I know you want to tear that building apart brick by brick. But Elena needs us smart, not reckless."
"Every second she's with them?—"
"Is another second she's fighting to survive. And she will survive. Because she's strong, and because she knows we're coming for her." Vito places a hand on my shoulder. "Have faith in your girl. She's not going to break easily."
The words settle something in my chest. He's right. Elena is strong. She's a fighter. She'll hold on.
"What do you need me to do?" I ask.
"Go have a conversation with Elio. Make him understand that calling Ronan and arranging this exchange is the only way he survives this. That if anything happens to Elena because he refuses to cooperate..." Vito's smile is predatory. "Well, the Irish will seem like mercy."
I nod and head for the door.
"Marco?" Vito calls after me. "When we get her back—and we will get her back—she's going to need you. So stay sharp. Stay focused. Don't let rage make you sloppy."
"I won't."
As I head downstairs, one thought burns through my mind: I'm coming for you, little fox. Hold on just a little longer.
CHAPTER 33
Elena
Drip.Drip. Drip.
The sound pulls me back to consciousness. I blink, disoriented. My head pounds. My mouth tastes like chemicals.
I'm lying on cold stone. Damp. Dark. The only light comes from a small window high up on the wall—grimy glass filtering weak daylight.
Iron bars. A cell.
I sit up slowly, every muscle protesting. My wrists are bound in front of me with rough rope, already chafing my skin. My ankles too.
Memory floods back. Tony. The van. The needle.
I look around. Stone walls. Rusted bars. Old machinery visible through the bars—generators maybe? The smell of industrial waste and river water.
An abandoned warehouse. We're still in New York. Near the East River, if I had to guess.
I don't know how long I've been here. Hours? A day? My stomach growls. My throat is bone dry.
The sound of a metal door opening echoes through the space. Footsteps.
Tony appears, flanked by two other men. "Wakey, wakey."
I press myself against the wall, as far from the bars as I can get.
He opens the cell door and steps in, crouching to my level. Grabs the rope binding my wrists and yanks me forward. Pain shoots through my arms.
"How's my little captive doing?" His breath is rancid. I turn my face away.
He roughly grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him. "Nothing to say? No snarky comments?"
I don't respond. Won't give him the satisfaction.
"Let's get you cleaned up before the boss sees you." His smile is predatory.
