I sank onto the edge of his bed, the mattress dipping under my weight. For the first time since Marco's call, I let myself feel the full weight of what had happened.
My son was gone. Taken because of me. Because of what I was, what I'd built, the enemies I'd made.
Marcus was barely alive, and Carlo was dead. Good men who'd followed my orders, who'd died trying to protect what I'd told them was important.
And Isla—God, Isla. She must be terrified. She'd finally learned what I was capable of, and now she was trapped in the nightmare I'd dragged her into.
I should have kept them at a distance. Should have let her leave when she wanted to. Should have been the man who walked away instead of the one who claimed what he wanted and damn the consequences.
But I'd been selfish. Possessive. I'd seen my son and decided he was mine, that they both were mine, and now they were paying the price for my arrogance.
My phone buzzed.
Marco:Jersey City. Abandoned warehouse district near the old shipyards. Vincent's people confirmed movement in the area—multiple vehicles, unusual activity. Sending coordinates now.
Finally.
I stood, straightening my jacket. The grief, the guilt—I could process that later. Right now, I needed to be what Matteo had forgotten I was.
Not a businessman. Not a CEO playing at being dangerous.
A killer.
I moved to my office and unlocked the bottom drawer. The Glock sat heavy in my hand, a familiar weight. I checked the magazine, chambered a round, and tucked it into my shoulder holster. The knife went into my boot. Extra ammunition in my jacket pocket.
I pulled up the security footage from this morning, watching Isla and Leo leave for the park. The way she'd smiled down at him. The way he'd bounced with excitement, his small hand in hers.
I'd get them back. Both of them. And then I'd make sure Matteo understood exactly what happened when you touched a Barone's family.
My phone rang. Dmitri.
"We're in position," he said. "Four-man team, fully equipped. Where do you want us?"
I pulled up the coordinates Marco had sent. "Jersey City. I'm sending the location now. Recon first—I want to know exactly what we're walking into before we breach."
"ROE?"
"Civilians avoid. Everyone else is a target." I grabbed my car keys. "I'm ten minutes out."
The warehouse sat like a cancer on the waterfront, its rusted metal and broken windows a testament to its decay. Three stories of decay surrounded by a chain link fence and Jersey industrial wasteland.
I parked two blocks away, cut the engine, and studied the building through binoculars. Two guards were visible at the main entrance.Another two on the roof. Professional stance, military bearing. Matteo had hired well.
Not well enough.
Marco pulled up beside me in an unmarked SUV, four more men in tactical gear following in a second vehicle. They moved with quiet efficiency, checking weapons and equipment with the ease of men who'd done this before.
"Dmitri's team is approaching from the east," Marco said, joining me. "They've identified six potential entry points, two with minimal security."
"Hostage location?"
"Thermal imaging shows two heat signatures on the second floor, east wing. One adult-sized, one smaller." He pulled up the image on his tablet. "That's got to be them."
The smaller signature had to be Leo. My son. Alive.
Relief hit me so hard I had to grip the steering wheel to steady myself.
"Another signature in the basement level," Marco continued. "Isolated. Could be the woman."
