Dario nods. He gets it. When it comes to family, you don’t wait for permission or backup or the perfect plan. You go in guns blazing and sort out the mess later.
We circle the property like wolves stalking prey. A black van sits in the alley with all the subtlety of a neon sign. No attempt to hide it, no tarp thrown over the plates.
Complete amateur hour.
Great. I’d rather deal with a seasoned hitman than some moron who watched too many action movies. Amateurs are unpredictable. They panic, make stupid decisions, hurt people by accident.
The house squats in the darkness like a cancer, most of its windows black except for a single light glowing from what looks like the center.
That’s where they’ll be. That’s where my familybetterbe, alive and unharmed, or I’m going to paint these walls with blood.
“Shit.” Dario’s boot snags on something metallic stretched between two posts. “Trip wire.” He jerks back, eyes flashing.
We freeze, every muscle locked, braced for the blast.
Nothing. Just a high-pitched beep echoing from inside the house.
A heavy door slams open, the bang ricocheting through the night, and footsteps hammer across the wooden porch.
“Alarm. I’ve got the runner,” Dario snaps, already sprinting toward the front. His gun is up, his body a dark blur cutting across the yard.
“I’m getting Nina and Austin,” I growl back, charging toward the rear of the house.
The back door shatters inward under my boot, the wood splintering like it’s made of matchsticks. I sweep the first room with my gun raised, my heart hammering against my ribs as I take in nothing but empty space and stuffy air.
Kitchen. Clear. But the silence feels wrong, too heavy.
Living room. Nothing but dust and broken furniture that looks like it hasn’t been touched in years.Where the hell are they?
I move down a narrow hallway, checking each room with increasing agitation. Two bedrooms that smell like stale smoke and mildew reveal nothing but cobwebs and my own growing panic.
They have to be here. The tracker led us straight to this house. Unless...
My blood freezes. What if we’re too late? What if the signal was just a decoy, and they’re already gone? What if that son of a bitch hurt them and dumped the shoes here to throw us off?
I’m about to head back outside when something catches my eye. A door off the kitchen, different from the others. And secured with the kind of padlock you use when you want to make damn sure nobody gets out.
The gunshot that takes out the lock reverberates through the empty house like thunder. I rip the door open and find stairs descending into darkness, cold air rising from below that makes my skin crawl.
“Nina?” My voice echoes off the walls.
A choked sob rises from below, followed by the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. “Oh God, Alessio. We’re down here!”
I take the stairs three at a time, my weapon ready for anything. They’re huddled together in the middle of an empty basement, hands bound with zip ties. Nina’s trying to stay strong, but I can see the terror she’s been holding back in the way her shoulders shake.
And Austin...
Christ. My son looks like a ghost. His skin has that gray pallor that means his heart is struggling, his breathing shallow and labored in a way that makes my own chest tight with panic.
“The stress triggered another episode,” Nina whispers as I kneel down beside her. “He needs to get to a hospital.”
My knife slices through her restraints, plastic snapping one by one. “I’ve got you, baby,” I mutter, keeping my voice steady because she needs steady right now, not the rage boiling in my blood. “I’ve got you both.”
The blade makes quick work of Austin’s bonds, then I’m lifting him into my arms. He weighs nothing, feels fragile as spun glass. The thought of losing him before I’ve even had a chance to really know him settles like a stone in my gut.
This is what helpless feels like. All the money in the world, all the power I’ve built, all the fear my name commands, and I can’t fix what’s happening inside my son’s chest.
“Hey,bambino,” I manage, my voice gentler than it’s ever been. “Dad’s here now. We’re going home.”
