ISABELLAI paced around my suite, the plush carpet soft under my feet as I swirled the deep red wine in my glass, my eyes locked on the glaring numbers on my screen. My account balance had skyrocketed. The money kept rolling in, payment after payment, all from the media outlets desperate to get their hands on the pictures I’d given them of Marco.I let out a slow, satisfied breath, shaking my head with a smirk. I knew I’d make a decent sum from this, but this? This was beyond what I expected. The journalists were practically throwing cash at me, and for what? A few strategically captured images, a little bit of well-placed dirt, and suddenly, Marco was the talk of every major news station.I took a sip, letting the warmth of the wine settle in my chest. The best part? He didn’t even see it coming.Marco had always walked around with that arrogant, untouchable air, acting like his empire was bulletproof. Like no one could ever take him down. But even the biggest sharks bled when cut de
ISABELLAI paced the room, my grip on my phone so tight I could feel my pulse against the casing. My thumb hovered over the call button again, my patience running on fumes. I had already called four times. Four damn times. And still—nothing.I hit redial, pressing the phone hard against my ear.Ring.Ring.Ring.No answer.I pulled the phone away, staring at the screen like it might give me an explanation. What the hell was Damien playing at? I wasn’t in the mood for games. I wasn’t in the mood for his usual bullshit of making people wait, of acting like he was some untouchable king who couldn’t be summoned unless he damn well felt like it.I sucked in a sharp breath and called again.Ring.Ring.Ring.Nothing.I let out a sharp, frustrated laugh. Unbelievable. Absolutely fucking unbelievable.I spun on my heel, pacing faster, my heels clicking against the floor in short, angry bursts. Every second that passed without him picking up made my blood boil hotter. I could already hear his
ISABELLADamien leaned back in his seat, swirling his whiskey in slow circles, that same lazy smirk stretched across his face. He looked completely unbothered, like none of this—none of the work we’d put in, none of the risks—was anything more than some casual game to him. His fingers tapped against the side of his glass, his head tilting as he watched me with a mix of amusement and mild curiosity.“What could possibly be wrong, huh?” He raised an eyebrow, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “As far as I’m concerned, our plans to take down Marco have been nothing short of impeccable.” He took a slow sip, savoring the whiskey like he had all the time in the world. “We haven’t even had to do much, and the De Luca family is already struggling. They’re crumbling from the inside out, Isa. You should be thrilled.”I stared at him, my fingers twitching on the table. He had no idea.“You really should take a chill pill for once.” He exhaled, shaking his head as if I were the one being unreasonab
ISABELLADamien had been many things tonight—reckless, arrogant, infuriatingly smug—but careless? No. Never careless.And yet, I had heard it. That name. Marcel.For a second, I thought I misheard. But no. I knew exactly what I heard. And it made my stomach twist in a way that had nothing to do with the alcohol in the air or the heavy bass of the music.Because I knew Marcel. He drove me to the Rossis.And if it was the same Marcel I was thinking of, Damien had no idea what kind of fire he was playing with.My mind reeled, trying to connect the pieces. It had been weeks since I last heard that name in any relevant conversation—so long since I managed to claw my way out of the hell that working for him had been. Marcel wasn’t just some name on a contact list. He wasn’t just another criminal running underground deals or laundering dirty money through respectable businesses. He was a different breed entirely. The kind of man who didn’t just play the game—he controlled it. And he didn’t t
DAMIEN I watched Isabella walk away, her head high, her steps firm, like she hadn’t just refused me for the hundredth time. I smirked, shaking my head as I leaned back against the couch, swirling the drink in my hand.Persistent. That’s what she was. A woman who knew what she wanted—or at least thought she did. Most women melted the moment I so much as looked at them. But Isabella? She resisted, turned me down like I was some desperate bastard begging for a scrap of attention. It was almost amusing.Almost.Because at the end of the day, she was still mine to have. Whether she liked it or not.I took a slow sip of my drink, my mind still turning over the interaction. She wanted control, that was clear. She thought saying no to me gave her power, that it kept her in charge of the situation. But I knew women like her. They built walls, thinking they were protecting themselves, not realizing they were only making the chase more interesting. Sooner or later, those walls would crack, and
MARCOThe sound of my phone vibrating against the nightstand pulled me out of sleep. I groaned, rubbing my face as the buzzing continued, relentless. I blinked against the dim light in the room, reaching blindly for the phone. My fingers finally wrapped around it, and I lifted it to my face. The screen was flooded with notifications—calls, emails, and text messages, all demanding my attention.I sighed, unlocking the phone. The first few messages were from business associates, men who had stood by me when everything was stable, when my name was untouchable. Now, they all wanted answers.Giovanni Fabbri: Marco, what the hell is happening? Investors are pulling out. We need a statement ASAP.Emilio Rizzo: This scandal is making waves in the wrong places. The board is restless. Call me.Colonel Bianchi: The media pressure is mounting. This is dangerous. Handle it before it gets worse.Valentino Russo: The stock is plummeting. Your silence is making things worse. Damage control. Now.I cl
MARCO I walked out of the house, the sun already hitting hard against my face like it had a personal vendetta against me. The guards stood stiff by the gates, their faces blank — the same faces I’d been seeing every fucking day while my life burned down to ashes behind these walls. I was certain they didn’t see me. Not really. I could be bleeding out in front of them and they’d still stand there like statues, pretending they didn’t notice how I was breaking apart piece by piece. I stuffed my hands in my pockets, trying to bury the shaking in my fingers. “Get the car ready… the one with tinted windows.” The guard barely nodded before rushing off. None of them would even meet my eyes. Probably because they believed the headlines too — believed I was just another De Luca bastard who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. I stood there waiting, the heat pressing down on my skin, but I barely felt it. All I could feel was the weight — the fucking pressure of everything closi
CHAPTER 263MARCOTony stepped in, shutting the door quietly behind him. His eyes swept across the office, taking in the mess — broken glass scattered by the window, papers tossed across the desk, the whiskey bottle half-empty and lying on its side. The air was thick — like the whole room had been swallowing smoke for hours.He let out a low whistle under his breath.“Jesus…” His eyes flicked back to me. “Place looks like a fucking crime scene.”I didn’t respond. I just leaned further into the chair, fingers pressing into my temples, trying to push the pounding headache out of my skull.I felt Tony’s eyes lingering on me — sizing me up like he was trying to figure out just how bad the damage was.His voice dropped lower.“Boss… you okay?”I let out a slow breath, eyes still shut.“Do I look like I’m fucking okay, Tony?”He didn’t answer — because he knew there was no point.He knew I’d talk when I was ready, knew better than to push me when I was on edge like this.The room stretched
MARCOI stared at the dartboard across the room. Three darts were stuck in it. One near the bullseye, two scattered like they were thrown without care. I hadn’t touched it in a week. Didn’t feel like playing games. Not until we had something real.The room was quiet, just the sound of the coffee pot clicking under the small warmer. I poured myself a cup, black, no sugar. I needed to stay sharp. Petrov said he had gotten Denis, I could feel it. Something about tonight told me this was it. This was the closest I had been to getting Sarah back.I cracked my knuckles and leaned on the edge of the table, still staring at that board. One dart for Denis. One for Marcel. One for Isabella. That last one would get replaced soon, maybe with a blade. I smiled at that thought.A knock came at the door. I didn’t even turn around.“Yeah?”It was one of the guys from the main floor. “Boss. Petrov’s back. He says he’s downstairs. Dungeon.”I took one more sip of coffee and nodded. “Alright. Let’s go s
PETROVThe engine was quiet, but I still kept my foot light on the brake. Sitting in an unmarked black car in the middle of a warehouse lot at night ain’t glamorous. It’s cold, it’s slow, and you’ve gotta know how to sit in silence without letting it eat you up.Gio sat beside me, chewing on a toothpick. He didn’t say much. That’s why I liked him. Good eyes, sharper hands. One of Marco’s quiet soldiers, but sharp enough to make noise when it counted.I flicked the ash of my cigarette out the half-cracked window. The smoke stayed low inside the car, curling slow, the way my thoughts moved when I was on a tail. We weren’t here to guess. We were here to read the pattern.“He’s in there,” I muttered. “Warehouse across the lot. Denis. Carrying a duffel. No escort.”Gio nodded once. Didn’t need to speak. He knew what that meant. For a guy like Denis, showing up solo? Out of place. Logistics men don’t walk around without backup unless they’re doing something they ain’t supposed to.“Somethin
ISABELLAI needed to see Sarah. Needed to look into her eyes and knock that calm out of her face. I was sick of hearing the guards say she wasn’t making trouble. That she wasn’t even flinching. That she just sat there like she was above all of this.Like this place wasn’t real to her.I walked down to the basement. Two guards at her door stood straight when I showed up. One of them moved to unlock it.“Open it,” I said. My voice didn’t shake.The door creaked and I stepped inside.She was sitting by the window. Again. Her back to the door. Same white T-shirt. Same silent attitude. Like she didn’t even hear me come in.That alone made my jaw clench.I shut the door myself and crossed the room, slow. Waiting for her to move. Say something. Look at me.She didn’t.“You’re quiet,” I said.No answer.“Still dreaming, huh? You think he’s coming for you?”Nothing. She didn’t even turn her head.I walked right behind her chair.“He doesn’t even still know where you are,” I said. “And if he di
MARCOPetrov walked in without knocking. He didn’t have to. The door was open, and when things are heavy like this, you don’t waste time with manners. He stepped into the office and came to a stop near the board behind me. Eyes sharp. Face serious.I didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Just stared at the photos, the pins, the lines that connected nothing but dead ends.Then I turned to him. “Denis.”Petrov looked at the picture I was pointing to. “Marcel’s logistics guy?”I nodded. “Yeah. One of our guys spotted him earlier today. Said he was moving different. Not his usual routes. First stop was a fuel depot. He lingered, made a few calls, then drove across town to a shut-down warehouse. Didn’t go in, just parked across from it, like he was checking something. Then he drove to the pier. Got a coffee. Sat there for almost forty minutes. Staring at the water.”Petrov didn’t speak right away. He just stared at Denis’s face like he was reading a puzzle out of it.“That sound like erra
MARCOI stood in front of the board again. Maps. Pins. Strings. Scribbled notes. All of it looking back at me like it had answers. But it didn’t. Not yet.The Bronx setup still replayed in my head. That moment when I saw her. The fake her. How sure I was. The way her hair smelled. Her trembling hands. For a second, I let myself believe it was Sarah. I let my guard down. I walked right into Marcel’s damn show. And he played me like a fool.I stepped closer to the board, staring at a red pin that marked another location upstate. The lead had was still weak, a whisper from a runner who barely made it out alive. But I kept it. I kept every maybe. Because right now, a maybe was all I had.I dragged my fingers through my hair, jaw tight. Every goddamn angle I took just looped me back here. To this board. This silence. And her still missing.“Where the fuck are you, Sarah?” I muttered.The room was dim. Just the lamp by the desk on. Everyone in the house knew to stay away when that light was
MARCEL She sat just like always. On the edge of the bed. Back straight. Hands stiff in her lap. Eyes locked on the window like it had something new to show her. It didn’t. Just the same damn walls, same sky, same guards outside. I sat across from her, cigarette between my fingers, legs crossed. Quiet at first. I wanted her to feel it. The silence. The weight of me just watching. “You look thinner,” I said. She didn’t turn. Didn’t blink. “How long has it been now? Weeks? Maybe more.” I smiled a little. “Still haven’t settled in, huh?” She didn’t answer. “Don’t gotta be like this. You know that.” She turned her head halfway, eyes meeting mine. Cold, tired eyes. “What do you want?” I shrugged. “Conversation. It’s been too damn quiet around here. Figured we could talk.” “You can talk. I’m not interested.” That made me chuckle. “You always had bite, I’ll give you that. Strong. Loyal too. I can respect that. But you’re wasting it, Sarah.” She looked away again. Back t
MARCOI sat silently in the SUV, my head leaning against the window, watching the city pass by like it didn’t just eat me alive. The lights, the streets, the people… all of it blurred together while my mind stayed locked on that damn warehouse. My jaw clenched. I didn’t say a word. There was nothing to say.Marcel played me. He fucking played me like a damn puppet. The whole thing was a trap from the start. He knew we were coming. He was ten steps ahead of us, watching, laughing. Every bullet we spent, every man we lost, every second we wasted thinking we were doing something smart… it was all for nothing. We didn’t win anything. We didn’t find Sarah. That wasn’t Sarah.I whispered it to myself, bitter and broken. “He planned it all. He knew we were coming. He really planted that girl there to make me think that was Sarah.”Petrov kept driving like he always does, calm and quiet. Tony sat beside me, looking straight ahead, no words. What could they say? They knew. They felt it too. Bu
MARCOI stepped closer. My hands were shaking. I didn’t even notice until my fingers touched the edge of the blindfold. The cloth was damp, smelled like sweat and piss. My throat felt dry as I slowly pulled it off.My heart was hammering so hard I thought it would break through my chest. I was ready. Ready to see her face. Ready to pull her into me, to tell her it was over, that I came for her, that I wasn’t too late.The blindfold dropped to the floor.And everything stopped.It wasn’t her.The light from the hallway hit her face and I just stood there. Frozen. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Blonde hair, yeah. But the face… not Sarah. Too narrow, older, bruised. Mouth cracked, lip bleeding, cheeks hollow like she hadn’t eaten in days.My whole body went cold. My vision blurred for a second. I blinked hard. I kept looking at her like somehow she’d shift into Sarah. Like maybe the drugs or the light or my eyes were lying to me. I stepped back once, then forward again.I whispered it
We pulled up two blocks from the warehouse. The SUV came to a slow crawl and stopped, engine running low, like it didn’t want to be heard. The street was dead. Not a single soul out. No cars. No movement. Just the faint buzz of streetlights and the wind dragging trash down the road.I stared out the window, eyes locked on the building sitting in the middle of the block like it was waiting for something to happen. Cracked bricks, rusted windows, a chain-link fence barely standing, like the place was already giving up. But I knew better. That warehouse wasn’t empty. It was hiding something. Hiding her.I turned and looked at the crew. Tony in the front, sliding a mag into his piece, no emotion on his face. Petrov behind me, checking his rifle, smooth and silent. The other two, focused, guns in their laps, eyes on me. Nobody said a word. They didn’t need to. We weren’t here to talk. We were here to finish this.I gave a slow nod. They moved. Tony and the guy beside him slipped out to the