Luca didn’t look away from Isabella. “What kind of problem?” he asked.
Dante hesitated—just for a second. “We found Mr. Romano.” Everything inside Isabella froze. Her heart felt as though it had stopped beating. She wasn’t sure if she could even remember how to breathe as her world spun off its axis.
“What do you mean you found him?” she whispered.
Luca’s entire body went still beside her. “Where?” he asked.
“Down by the docks. He’s alive,” Dante added, “but not for long.” The room felt as though it tilted. Isabella’s hand shot out, gripping the edge of the table to steady herself. Her father was alive. But not for long. Her gaze snapped to Luca, wild and desperate.
“Where is he now?” she asked. Dante didn’t answer immediately, seeming to look at Luca for permission to answer her. Of course, Luca didn’t give that permission. He was thinking and calculating—always calculating.
“Luca,” she said, her voice breaking for the first time. “Where is he now?” His eyes locked onto hers, and something shifted. It wasn’t about control or power right now. It was something deeper, darker, and a whole lot more dangerous.
Luca turned and looked at Dante. “Where is he?” he asked.
“We don’t have him yet, but we’re going to get him,” he said. Somehow, that was worse, because Isabella realized something in that moment. If Luca Camorra was going after her father, he wasn’t doing it for her. He was doing it for himself. And whatever he found at the end of that road? It wasn’t going to save her. It was going to destroy everything—including her entire family.
Luca
The second the words left Dante’s mouth, Luca’s mind shifted. Not to panic, but to war. Romano was alive—but not for long. That wasn’t just new information; it was a message. It was a threat that there was a clock ticking down.
Luca didn’t look at Dante at first. He looked at Isabella because her reaction told him everything he needed to know. He saw everything in her face that he needed to know—shock, hope, and fear. That meant she hadn’t been playing him—not about this.
“Where are you looking?” Luca asked, his voice flat and controlled. Dante stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him so that their voices wouldn’t carry down the hallway to Isabella’s room, where they had left her. “Warehouse off the Hudson. Pier 17 district. It’s not one of ours.”
Of course it wasn’t. Luca’s jaw tightened. A neutral location meant leverage—or a trap, but usually both.
“How many men does he have looking for him?” Luca asked.
“Unknown,” Dante said. “But we’ve got movement down at the docks, and they are armed and rotating the perimeter.” Luca nodded. Romano’s men were prepared, and they were waiting for him and his men to show up, but Luca wouldn’t givethem what they wanted. If he and his men were going in after Romano, he’d have to have one hell of a good plan in place. He was already mapping it out in his head—the entry points, sightlines, blind spots, and exit routes.
“Luca,” Isabella’s voice called. It sounded different now—not sharp or defiant like it was earlier.
He turned to find that her composure was cracked—not shattered, but close to it. Her fingers were still curled against the edge of the table, her knuckles pale, and her breathing uneven despite her efforts to control it.
“Take me with you,” she said. There was no hesitation, and no fear. She was demanding to tag along, and Luca stared at her for a long second before giving his answer.
“No,” he breathed.
Her eyes flashed immediately. “You don’t get to?—”
“No,” he repeated, sharper this time. “You’re not setting foot anywhere near that place.”
“That’s my father,” she snapped.
“And that’s exactly why you’re staying here,” he said.
“I’m not staying behind while you—” she started. He admired her fire, but there was no way that he’d let her go with him to track down her father.
“You are staying behind,” he insisted. The words cut clean, and he considered them to be final.
She stepped toward him, her anger burning through whatever fear she had left. “You don’t get to lock me in here like some prisoner—” Luca moved quickly, closing the distance between them in two strides.
“Listen to me,” he said, his voice low and lethal. “Whoever has him wants something, and right now, I’m betting that something is you.” Silence hit hard, and her breath caught. “Taking you there?” he continued. “That’s not going to save yourfather. We’ll be handing them exactly what they want, and then, they’ll kill you both.”
Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t argue, not immediately, at least. That was good. It meant that she was thinking. “I’m not sitting here doing nothing,” she said finally, quieter now—but no less stubborn.
“You won’t be,” Luca said.
