It takes four more broken bones before he talks. When he finally gives me three addresses, sobbing and begging, I leave him in that alley. I don’t kill him. He’s not worth the bullet.
The addresses are useless. They’re abandoned, empty, or occupied by people who genuinely don’t know anything. Buteach one leads to another soldier, another associate, another link in Romano’s chain.
And I break every single link I find.
The second guy tries to run. I catch him in a parking garage and slam his head against a concrete pillar hard enough to crack his skull. While he’s dazed and bleeding, I methodically break his fingers one by one, asking the same question between each snap.
“Where. Is. Romano. Keeping. Her?”
He gives me two more locations before passing out from the pain.
The third one pulls a knife. I take it from him and use it to carve a message into his chest.TELL ROMANO I’M COMING. I make sure he’s conscious for every cut.
Danny tries to slow me down after the fourth interrogation, when I’m standing over a Romano lieutenant with bolt cutters in my hand and the man’s severed fingers scattered on the warehouse floor.
“Boss, you need to stop.”
“I need to find her!” I drop the bolt cutters and grab Danny by his shirt, slamming him against the wall. “Every second I waste is another second she’s dying. So either help me or get the fuck out of my way!”
I release him and move to the next location on my list.
Three of Romano’s safe houses go up in flames. I don’t care who’s inside. Soldiers, accountants, innocent civilians in the wrong place at the wrong time. I torch them all and watch them burn while making calls to find the next target.
Two of his income streams get shut down permanently. Drug operations, illegal gambling, protection rackets. I destroy them, leaving bodies and warnings in my wake.
His soldiers start disappearing from the streets as my men hunt them down. Some talk. Most die. I don’t differentiate anymore.
By hour forty-eight, I’ve barely slept. My hands are covered in other people’s blood, my knuckles split and swollen, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop.
Danny forces water and food on me at one point, but I barely taste it. All I can think about is the clock ticking down. How many hours has it been since Romano called? How much blood has Gigi lost?
Is she even still alive?
When Viktor finally shows up in person at one of my remaining safe houses, I’m in the middle of interrogating another Romano associate. This one is tied to a chair with a blowtorch in my hand.
“Luca.” Viktor’s voice cuts through the man’s screaming. “We need to talk. Now.”
I don’t lower the blowtorch. “Unless you know where she is, you’re wasting my time.”
“What I know is that you’re tearing apart the entire city and making enemies faster than even I can smooth over.” Viktor snarls, his narrow face drawn with anger. “The Benedetto family is threatening retaliation for the warehouses you burned. The police are starting to ask questions I can’t answer. You’re creating a shitstorm that will bury us all.”
“I don’t care.” I return my attention to the man in the chair. “Where does Romano keep his high-value targets?” I growl.
The man’s face is red with pain and from the force of his screaming, slick with sweat. “I told you!” He cries. “I don’t—Fuck no please—please, I don’t know!”
The blowtorch gets closer.
“Marchetti!” Viktor’s voice cracks like a whip. “Stop this. You’re not thinking straight. You’ve been awake for forty-eight hours, you’re operating on pure rage?—”
“I’m operating on the fact that Gigi probably has hours before she dies!” I spin on him, the blowtorch still lit. “Romano told me she had a few days, Viktor.Days. So yes, I’m tearing the city apart. Yes, I’m making enemies. Because the alternative is sitting around strategizing while she bleeds to death!”
Viktor’s expression doesn’t soften. Instead, he looks pissed. “And what happens to our alliance when the Benedettos declare war?” he hisses. “When the police start connecting you to a dozen murders across the city? You’re jeopardizing everything we’ve built.”
“Then let it burn.” I turn back to my prisoner. “Everything. All of it. I don’t give a fuck about the alliance or the Benedettos or anything else. I’m getting her back.”
“She might already be dead,” Viktor says flatly.
My gun is in my hand before I consciously decide to draw it, pressing it against Viktor’s forehead between his eyes. “Finish that sentence. I fucking dare you,” I snarl, rage building in my throat. I’ll blow his fucking brains out for the disrespect. How dare he say she’s dead.
