I expect to find shipments missing. Instead, I find them destroyed.
"The security footage?"
"Looped. Professional job. They knew exactly where the cameras were."
I walk through the carnage, my shoes crunching over broken glass. This isn't about profit. Thieves would have taken the goods. This is about retaliation.
"The guards?"
"Found them unconscious. Drugged, not beaten."
I kneel to examine a slashed crate. "How did they get in?"
"That's the thing, Boss." Dario shifts uncomfortably. "The security system doesn’t indicate a break-in. No alarms triggered."
"Inside job?"
“Likely,” Adriano says. “This warehouse requires a key.”
I look at him as my gut clenches.
“A key. All of them are accounted for except yours.”
I reach into my pocket, pulling out the keychain and locating the key.
“What about the one in your office?” Adriano asks.
It takes me a minute to process what he’s asking. But it’s not possible that anyone would take a key from my office. No one is allowed in there without me.
“I’ll check when I get home. Right now, I want everyone who had knowledge of this shipment in my office tomorrow morning."
“The security on the building was bypassed,” Adriano starts as he pulls up something on his phone. “but they didn’t seem to know about the secondary exterior cameras.”
I added the additional surveillance after the Bratva attacks.
Adriano hands me his phone, and I watch the video of a black SUV pulling up. The driver's door opens, and Enrico Vitale steps out along with several other men.
"Fucking hell.” Rage and betrayal boil inside me as I grapple with the treachery of Isabella's family. Enrico walks directly to the door, removes something from his pocket, and lets himself in without hesitation or difficulty.
He had a key.
I glance at Adriano, who gives me a pointed stare. “Like I said, all keys are accounted for?—”
I zoom in, freeze the frame, enhance the image. There's no doubt. The specialized titanium key is clearly visible in his hand.
“I need to check my office.”
But how would he have gotten the key? The key never leaves my office. It’s a backup.
Memories flood back of Isabella in my office. On my desk. Papers scattered across the floor. Her insistence on cleaning up afterward. Had I turned my back on her for some reason?
Fury burns in my gut.
“What are you thinking?” Adriano asks.
I turn to him, my rage barely containable. "I’ve got to go home."
"What about the warehouse?"
