ENRICO
A shrill ring sliced through the study.A frantic voice on the other end broke through.“Mia and Catrina—they've been taken.”The words came at me like bullets, each one lodging deep within my chest.I stood rigid, the cold tendrils of dread wrapping around my spine.I should have seen this coming.This is all my fucking fault.
“Where?”The single word rasped from my throat, not a question so much as a demand for action.The line crackled with the heavy breath of her father, a man who had never once asked for my help until this night, a night where pride had no place.
“An old warehouse down by the docks.Block 22.”
They had to know they wouldn’t survive.Anyone dumb enough to kidnap my wife and sister… they’d never see another day.But more importantly, why were they calling Don instead of me?
“Keep your phone close.”The call ended, severing the connection to Don.I moved out of the study and down the corridor.“Luca, Marco, Alessio.”They emerged from the living room, specters summoned to war.“We’re going to block 22 by the docks.No gunfire unless necessary—we need them alive.”My command was met with nods, the silent language of men who had long since sworn their loyalty to me—and me alone.
I turned on my heel; the shadows swallowed me whole as I stepped into the night.The city would soon awaken to the echo of retribution.I pulled up about a quarter mile away from block 22 by the docks.
“Positions.”
They were phantoms in the night, each movement precise and deliberate.
I surveyed the perimeter while Luca moved to the back entrance.Marco took point at the side alley, while Alessio disappeared.Every potential escape route was quietly sealed off.None of their men were getting out of her alive tonight.
“Are you ready?”Don asked.
“We're in position.Remember, no heroics.We do this clean — in and out.”
“Understood.”There was a pause, a momentary crack in his resolve.“Enrico...I can’t let them take her from me.”
I knew the risks, the weight of the lives in my hands.But I also knew the code by which I lived—loyalty was the lifeblood of my world.The two teams dispersed to their spots, and Don followed me.My fingers curled tighter around the grip of the gun, a cold extension of my resolve.
Mia's father matched my pace.He was a man whose age had not dulled his instincts nor his ability to wage war on those who dared harm his kin.We communicated without words, a glance here, a gesture there—the language of men for whom violence was a second tongue.
A flicker of movement caught my eye.I stilled, a predator in wait, senses stretched taut for any hint of danger.Mia's father mirrored my caution.The entrance loomed ahead, its door ajar like the maw of some slumbering beast.Two figures emerged from the shadows, the guards unwittingly stepping into their final moments.I didn't falter.The world narrowed to the space between my finger and the trigger, the breath I took before gunfire.
The two guards crumpled, marionettes severed from their strings.I advanced, every shot a whispered promise to Mia, every fallen enemy a step toward her salvation.They wouldn’t even hear us coming.Silencers came in handy.
Mia's father was relentless at my side, his own weapon speaking the brutal language of retribution.As the last guard fell, a hush descended.I stepped over lifeless forms, path clear but lined with the specters of what must be done.For Mia, for loyalty, for the unwritten codes etched into my very soul, I would see this through to its bloody end.
I’d prove to Mia my undying loyalty to her and make sure everyone around knows not to fuck with me or my family.
24
MIA
Four men circled us like sharks.Their eyes darted between us, hungry for any sign of weakness.They were waiting for a call, one that would seal our fates.
“Your waiting is pointless.”I fixed my gaze on the largest of the men.His bulk shadowing over us like a storm cloud ready to burst.“My father won't be calling you back.”
A flicker of uncertainty crossed the man's face before it hardened again into a sneer.His eyes, two dark pits of malice, locked onto mine.The other men paused, their predatory pacing interrupted by my bold claim, and the room grew so quiet that the distant sound of traffic roared.
“Brave words for someone in your position.”He growled, stepping closer.
“Bravery has nothing to do with it.”My heart hammered, but I gave no outward sign of the fear that clawed at my insides.“It's simply the truth.”
It happened in a flash; the moment stretching out as if time itself recoiled from what was to come.I gasped, head snapping forward with the force of the blow, breaking eye contact as my vision blurred.A grunt escaped my lips, unwilling and primal.Every muscle contracted.Yet, even as darkness nibbled at the edges of my consciousness, I refused to scream, biting down on my lip until I tasted blood.The pain was an unwelcome visitor, but I would not give them the satisfaction.
The door groaned.Two figures emerged.One tall and imposing, his presence commanding the room without utterance—the patriarch, my father.His silhouette spoke of power, of a lifetime spent weaving webs of influence and fear.Trailing him, another shadow moved.Enrico.His name whispered through my mind like a forbidden incantation.He was danger personified, a tempest cloaked in the guise of a man, and yet, I found an anchor in his proximity.
Their entrance did not go unnoticed by the men who circled like vultures.In Enrico's gaze, there was a promise.It was not one of mercy, but of retribution—a silent vow.There would be consequences, a reckoning.The game changed, and with it, the players took their new positions.The board was set, the pieces in motion, and from this point forward, every move mattered.
Everything about Enrico screamed power, from the controlled stride of his steps to the unwavering focus in his eyes.They fucked with the wrong men.Their exchange was mute—a nod so subtle it could have been mistaken for a twitch of muscle.But to me, it spoke volumes.It was an acknowledgment, a silent contract forged in the understanding of men who danced with death at their fingertips.
