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I search the kitchen, my office, and all the rooms on this floor, but she isn’t here. The front door is wide open, and I see a car speeding away down the street. It’s too far for me to run and catch up with it. I’m not armed to shoot the tires out. Fuck!
60Y. I memorize the only part of the plate I see and immediately send it to Max. I can’t freak out, I can’t rage. Every second I waste is a second I take away from her life.
When I pull up my camera system, I only see part of his face. He has a hood up. He’s tall, white, and built.
Max calls me, and I bristle. I didn’t just lose my woman. I lost his sister.
“It’s a partial plate, so it’ll take some time. When do you need it by?” he asks. He sounds exhausted already, and his night is only beginning.
“ASAP, that car just drove off with your sister. She was in shock, so I sat her on the couch while I was upstairs packing. I locked the door, so whoever came to take her was someone she knew. Someone she trusted enough to open the door for.”
The line goes dead silent. I hear Max breathing, and I’m not sure what way this will go. He’s either going to hate me, or this is going to bring us a lot closer together.
The furious clacking of his keyboard in the background tells me he at least isn’t flabbergasted. I highly doubt someone like Max can be.
“I compared John Carlo, Gabriele, and Dmitri’s known vehicles to that partial plate. Gabe’s a match. A black Audi SUV, his personal car. What a fucking moron,” Max snaps.
“I know, I didn’t think it through. I should have taken her upstairs with me, but I was rushing to get us out of here.” My throat clogs, and for the first time since I was a child, I’m holding back tears.
“Not you. Gabriele. Garrix, you may think you’re some unstoppable supervillain, but you’re only human. This could have happened to anyone guarding her. Don’t worry, we’re going to get her back. I’m going to call French and my brothers and I will meet you at your place.”
He sounds so hopeful, and even though I’m a realist who’s well aware the love of my life—my heart and soul—is missing. She may already be dead.
I can’t lose her. She’s everything to me, and without her, I don’t want to keep living. Call it an unhealthy obsession, or a huge flying red flag, but I don’t give a fuck. I know I want to own and possess Maddalena Vettore for the rest of my life.
I want to make her Maddalena Vettore Cameron, have a fucking family with her. I need this woman so much that I’m contemplating bringing children into our world when I’m almost in my damn forties.
“I’m calling in backup.”
“Oh snap. The Brigade?!” Max asks. “I’ll send you the full plate.”
“Yeah, my team. They’ll always have my back. See you soon,” I rush him off the phone right before the first tear falls from my eyes.
I can’t lose her when I only just found her. My life won’t be the same without her in it. Tears burn my face. I failed her. I couldn’t keep her safe like I promised.
The only person I can direct my anger toward is me. I take a vase from the coffee table and smash it against the wall. Then I flip the coffee table. Smash a lamp. And a picture from the wall. No matter how many things in my home I destroy, nothing quells the beast growing inside me. Nothing tampers the pure rage coursing through my veins right now.
I pull up the group chat we all have, but hate to use. The only time it’s ever active is when shit hits the fan.
Me: Code Red. *Drops location pin* Maddalena’s been abducted by Gabriele Rizzo.
French: I’m on my way
Whit: On my way
Fitzpatrick: On my way, picking up Beck too.
Big Angie: On assignment, but will help from afar as much as I can. Hope you find her and she’s safe.
A flood of texts tells me I’m not on my own. My family is coming.
I don’t need any proof to know what happened. My gut is enough. Gabriele somehow aligned himself with Dmitri, and he’s delivering Maddalena to him. Those stupid fucks think they’ve gotten away with it, too.
But they won’t know what hit them when The Brigade comes for them. By the time we’re through, they won’t exist. There won’t be a Bratva. And Gabriele will beg me for death.
“Let’s bash some skulls!” Fitzpatrick shouts, waving a metal baseball bat around. The surface is textured like a meat tenderizer, for maximum impact. His words, not mine.
Luca and Franco stare at him. They’re not used to someone so… filterless.
