Neither am I, I think, but don't say.
I'm barely holding myself together. I'm one wrong thought away from completely losing it. But I can't lose it. Not now. Not when she needs me functional.
We walk through the house quickly, down stairs I know by heart, to the basement level, where the armory is kept, and I can hear Matteo's voice before I see him, sharp and commanding, giving orders to men who are loading rifles and checking ammunition.
He sees me and everything stops.
The entire room goes silent.
Matteo is across the space in three strides, his face dark with fury, and for a second I think he's going to hit me again and I don't care, I'll take it, I'll take anything if it means he listens.
"You have thirty seconds to tell me why I shouldn't kill you right now," he says, his voice low and deadly.
"I know where she is."
The words come out calm and certain and completely at odds with the chaos in my chest, with the way my heart is trying to beat out of my ribs, with the terror that's threatening to drown me if I let it.
"Where?" Luca's desperate voice comes from across the room before Matteo can respond. He's already moving toward the table. "Tell us exactly where."
Matteo’s eyes narrow.
"I know the exact location, the layout, the access points. I can get you in there and I can get her out. I'm the one who rescued her nine years ago. The warehouse in Red Hook. That's where he takes people for leverage. That's where he took her then and that's where he has her now. Probably not the same cell, but she’s in there." I hold his gaze and force my voice to stay level. "I know that building better than anyone. I know where the entrances are, where the blind spots are, where he keeps prisoners. I can get you in there fast and clean."
Matteo stares at me and I watch him processing this, watch him running calculations, deciding if he believes me.
Please believe me.
Please let me help.
Please let me get her back because if I can't, if I'm stuck here while she's there, I will lose my mind completely.
"Prove it," he says finally.
I walk to the table in the center of the room, grab a piece of paper and a pen and my hands shake slightly when I start drawing but I force them steady, force myself to focus.
The warehouse takes shape quickly under my hands. Main entrance. Side doors. Loading dock. Basement access. Guard positions. Camera angles. Everything I remember from nine years ago, everything I've revisited in my nightmares for nearly a decade, everything I studied afterward because I needed to know, needed to understand the place that almost killed her.
"Main entrance is heavily monitored," I say, and my voice is steady even though everything inside me is screaming. "Three guards minimum, rotating shifts. Side entrance here is weaker but has a direct sightline from the office on the second floor. Loading dock is the best entry point—cover from containers, minimal cameras, one guard usually smoking instead of watching."
I draw the basement level, and my hand tightens on the pen because I'm drawing the place where she is right now, the place where she's trapped, the place I swore she'd never have to see again.
Focus.
Stay functional.
Get her back.
"Stairs here and here. Both lead down to the same corridor. Holding cells on the left, storage on the right. Declan keeps high-value prisoners in the back cell—furthest from exits, hardest to reach. That's where she'll be."
Matteo is looking at the map with sharp focus.
"Guards in the basement?"
"Two minimum. Could be more now depending on how paranoid he's feeling. The corridor is narrow—single file approach. No cover. Anyone coming down those stairs is exposed for at least ten seconds."
"Exits?"
"Only the stairs unless you want to go through the old ventilation system, which I don't recommend. It's unstable and loud." I mark another point. "But there's a service door here that leads to a back alley. Emergency exit. Declan keeps it locked from the inside but it's old hardware—easy to breach."
