All Chapters of The mafia’s captive : Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

The house was graveyard silent.No one spoke. No one moved.Only the distant, restless sound of the baby’s soft hiccuping cries stirred the air — each one a dagger to the heart.Luca sat slumped on the arm of the couch, his face buried in his hands. Ryder paced back and forth near the door, running a trembling hand through his hair again and again.They blamed themselves.No one had to say it.It was carved into the hollow, broken way they breathed.Vulture didn’t say a word to them.He didn’t trust himself to.Instead, he moved with deadly purpose, the baby strapped securely against his chest in a carrier, close to his heart.He refused to let anyone else touch the boy.Not because he didn’t trust them.Because the weight of Cassie’s absence was suffocating, and the only thing grounding him — grounding all of them — was the small heartbeat pressed against his ribs.Bain stood near the wide windows, staring out into the blackness beyond the walls.His fists flexed uselessly at his sid

The pieces were finally moving.Each day inside Vulture’s domain was spent sharpening the blade — mentally, physically, tactically.Bain, Vulture, Luca, and Ryder sat around the long oak war table, maps and photographs spread across the surface, lines drawn, locations circled in red.Every possible route. Every possible enemy.Petrov and Sokolov checked in through encrypted channels, feeding Bain fresh intel — whispers from Valeria’s network, movements of Jackal’s known associates.The silence was ending.And they had their first real lead.Not enough to storm in yet — but enough to start drawing the noose tighter.They just needed one more break.It came in the form of a small boy with dark hair and solemn brown eyes.Elias.Valeria’s son by blood, but abandoned emotionally since the day he was born.He shuffled into the war room, barefoot, clutching a threadbare stuffed rabbit in one hand. His lip wobbled like he wanted to say something — but he stayed silent until he reached Bain’s

The Spider moved like a shadow along the rooftop, eyes locked on the street below where the Jackal’s black SUV idled.Beside her in the darkness, the Widowmaker adjusted her sniper scope, her breath even, calm.“Target moving,” Widowmaker whispered through their comms.Below them, Valeria, the Jackal, and a handful of men exited a seedy club that Spider had tracked them to three nights ago.So far, it had been one dead lead after another.False safehouses. Dummy networks. Every thread they followed either led to empty buildings… or traps.“They’re too careful,” Spider murmured.“Or too cocky,” Widowmaker replied.They needed more. They needed something real.Something that would lead to Cassie before time ran out.The two assassins melted into the night after them, invisible watchers.But hours later, after another fruitless chase ending in another dead end warehouse, Spider found something odd tucked into her gear — a small, hand-written note.No one had gotten close to her. No one.

VALERIAShe stared into the mirror, eyes hollow, pupils dilated from too little sleep and too many pills. Her knuckles were red from the last time she hit Cassie. That girl had smiled—smiled—through the blood. Like she knew something Valeria didn’t. Like she wasn’t afraid.Valeria slammed the pill bottle down, sending a ripple of pills scattering across the marble counter.Her hands shook.“Why are they so quiet?” she growled to the Jackal, who stood in the corner like a statue.“They’re pretending,” he said. “Strategizing. But it means nothing. We still have the girl.”“I’ve had her for weeks, and nothing!” Valeria hissed. She turned sharply. “No retaliation. No threats. Not even Bain. Why isn’t he coming for her?”The Jackal said nothing.Valeria stormed out, down the hallway of the Alexandria compound, past guards who wouldn’t meet her eyes. She used to command fear. Now she was unraveling. Everyone could feel it.She shoved open the surveillance room.Cassie was asleep, head slump

The air in Vulture’s war room was heavy. No one spoke. Blood had dried on Bain’s bandaged hand, seeping through the gauze as he sat at the table, jaw clenched, fury burning cold and bright in his eyes. The op had failed. Cassie had been moved. And the Jackal had escaped again—barely—just like the venomous coward he was.But someone had known.And someone had told.Vulture came in last, his long coat billowing like a storm cloud, eyes scanning every man in the room with venom. He didn’t need to raise his voice—his silence was enough to terrify even the most hardened of killers. His baby godson was nestled against his chest, swaddled and asleep, blissfully unaware of the hell burning beneath his godfather's skin.Then, Vulture turned to his men and growled, “Which one of you shit-stained bastards fed her information?”No one spoke.“I will find out,” he hissed. “And when I do, there won’t be enough left of you to feed to the crows.”It didn’t take long. One of the techs—a younger man na