𝐂𝐡𝐚p𝐭𝐞𝐫 44: 𝐂𝐄𝐎?

𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚'𝐬 𝐍𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬°°°°

“Did you perhaps check the Law Chamber and private security office?” Breanna repeated.

“Maybe he is mocking you,” Sophia murmurs, close enough that only Breanna could hear. “Antonio’s the kind of asshole who-”

“If he said there’s a hit, then there’s a hit.” Breanna snapped. “I know that Antonio is a bastard, but If he wanted to mock me, he’d send flowers instead”

Sophia leaned forward. Persistent. “Snap off it Ma'am, he wants you to blow a fuse”

“Sophia Kendrick” Breanna called, softer now, “It's 9:15 AM already and target's already en route to his slaughter table, we aren't up for any assumptions”

Sophia’s shoulders slump for a millisecond, then she returns back to work — combing firms, pinging sources.

An officer staked to their table, holding his phone.

“Ma’am?” He called , referring to Breanna. “A concierge at a boutique hotel just attested that one Italian—Lorenzo Creed checked in at Six forty-five. Said he was speaking at a seminar, didn’t give more details though.”

Breanna shot up on her feet instantly, heart thudding.

“That’s him.” She exchanged a glance with Sophia. “The trail—Trace the call and find out which hotel.”

“On it.”

The team exploded into motion.

It was barely up to five minutes when an intern skids up with a printout.

“Found it — Celestial Height Hotel” He looks to Breanna for directions.

“It's about time,” She hissed, snatching the printout with the speed of a predator. “Hills driveway”

“Gear up everyone.” She pushes away from the table and grabs her service revolver.

“We’ve got less than two hours to find Lorenzo Creed, before he steps into that seminar”

Her team snaps into follow — a living thing with one intent, because the element of surprise still belongs to them if they can be faster, smarter.

Sophia catches her arm as they head for the door, whispering,

“Ma’am, you still haven't told me what happened at the casino—”

“Not now,” Breanna pins her with a look that does too much by saying too little.

“A name is being ferried toward a coffin, let's focus on that.”

Sophia’s gaze lingered, soft but probing — all the same, she let it slide.

☆☆30 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫☆☆

“Spread out and wait for the signal” Breanna ordered as soon as their cars screeched to a halt at Celestial Height .

Officers poured out, weapons checked, vests tugged tight.

Sophia fell into step with her, keeping close. “You sure this isn’t a false flag?”

“Nothing about Antonio’s tip is false,” Breanna answered, voice flinty. “Fast check shows that Lorenzo Creed isn't of New Mexico's nationality.”

They pushed through the revolving doors. Lobby marble gleaming under chandeliers.

Guests drifted, oblivious to the mission unfolding in their midst.

“Welcome to Celestial Height Hotel, your home away from home” a concierge recited, but Breanna gaze didn't break — slicing only to the front desk.

She flashed her badge at the Front Office Manager, before he could blink.

“Detective Breanna Stewart, standard protocol—Lorenzo Creed?”

The manager reached for the telephone to place a call but Breanna stopped him.

“There’s no call for alarm. We’re here to escort him to the seminar.”

“Okay” the manager nodded, pointing toward the elevator banks. “First floor”

Breanna’s glanced at Sophia, and in that shared look was the unspoken signal—

“Showtime.” Sophia barked, and officers stormed the lounge like a black tide, muzzles sweeping for threats.

“Secure the exits,” She echoed further, and the team scattered in precise arcs.

Breanna's palm brushed her sidearm as the elevator doors slid shut on the two of them. “We got this”

Within a minute the double door slid open, Breanna surged forward—only to stop dead.

It wasn't a room. Rather,

A velvet-draped mezzanine bar stretched before them, with golden liquor shelves.

“Shouldn't we be in his room?” Sophia whispered, pulling out her phone.

“That's what I'm trying to figure”

Breanna's eyes cut across the room with the slow, calculated weight of a predator.

“Detective Stewart—I was wondering how long it’d take before you come storming.” a voice drawled, silk over razors.

“Bastard,” She hissed in recognition, marching forward.

And there — seated as if it were nothing more than a lazy morning, drink in hand…suit unbuttoned.

>Antonio

He sat just across from a sharp-suited Italian man with silvered temples.

“Ma’am, He owns Celestial Height. It’s one of his subsidiaries” Sophia murmured urgently at Breanna's side, tugging on her elbow, but she didn’t listen nor slow down.

“What do you think you are doing here?” her nostrils flared, revolver raised.

Antonio didn’t flinch at the barrage of her confrontation.

He just tilted his head, leaned back, crossing his legs with lazy arrogance.

“Really?” He smirked, a sin incarnate.

“You storm into my house waving your little pistol — do you plan to oust the CEO?”

The words landed like a bombshell in her chest,

“CEO?”

Antonio grinned, catching the falter. “Don’t tell me you didn't investigate.”

Sophia, stiff at Breanna’s side, whispered lightly, “Ma’am…lower the gun. This place is his.”

Breanna's stomach dropped. The walls of this glass palace weren’t neutral — they were Antonio's.

“Careful with your temper. Madam” Lorenzo Creed said, setting his glass down. “Lorenzo Creed by name”.

Breanna shifted her attention from Antonio to him.

“Detective Breanna Stewart” she introduced, forcing her voice level to be professional. “We’re here to escort you to your seminar.”

“Ah,” Lorenzo breathed, accent thick with Italian polish.

“So this is New Mexico hospitality, sì?” His eyes gleamed as he drifted from Breanna to Antonio.

“First, I arrive and Antonio himself greets me at the door — imagine that, a man of his caliber shaking my hand. Then, a drink in his own hotel bar.” He tapped his glass fondly. “A fine vintage, by the way.”

Sophia’s eyes cut sharp toward Breanna, then flicked at Antonio, trying to read the undercurrent hospitality.

“And now? Your police are here to ensure I arrive safely at my engagement. Perfetto. Where else in the world is a guest treated with such kindness?” He completed, sipping his drink.

Antonio chuckled low, a sound rich and dangerous.

“Don’t be humorous.” He set his drink down with a soft clink. “We only try to make our guests… comfortable.”

Lorenzo angled a glance at him, lifting his own glass in salute.

“Detective Stewart, your country is lucky to have a man like Antonio to set the tone. I will tell my countrymen, they must all come here.”

“Always a pleasure, Lorenzo,”

Antonio rose smoothly, buttoning his jacket and cuffs like a man preparing for a show.

“But if you’ll excuse me…I believe the good detective has things well in hand.”

Breanna blinked sharply, her stomach twisting. She understood. Antonio just folded Creed’s compliment into his dominance.

“Yeah. Let us not keep your city waiting” Creed cut her thoughts off smoothly. “I’ve never felt so… protected.”

Antonio stepped closer to Breanna, closing the gap until the air between them burned.

“Detective Stewart, do follow the Italian,” he said simply. “And reach out to me if you trip over ghosts on the way.”

He gave Creed a nod, casual, and turned toward the side exit, steps measured.