Page 22 of Shadowed Desires


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Chapter Twelve

Marco

"Señor Marco." Joshua's voice slices through my thick concentration as I hover over a blueprint with Viktor.

"What is it?" My voice remains steady, eyes glued to the document. I refuse to let an interruption sway my focus.

"Señor, there's been an incident," Joshua starts, and a visceral reaction tightens in my core—a cocktail of dread and suppressed panic. It takes a monumental effort to peel my gaze away, turning slowly to face him. His following words feel like a punch to the gut. "Miss Pia's men are incapacitated, and she…she has been taken. The driver was able to call in."

A surge of red-hot fury blazes through me, propelling me steps closer to Joshua. I speak each word with a venomous calm. "How in the fuck did this happen?" The fury simmers beneath the surface, a quiet storm.

"Señor, I—I don't have those details." Joshua's voice is a mix of frustration and helplessness.

My turn towards Viktor is sharp. "Change of plans. Pia is our priority. Mobilize everyone you have."

Viktor meets my gaze, his own resolve hardening. "I can reroute some of our—"

"No!" My interruption is fierce, a command not to be questioned. "I want every resource we have directed to this. Now!" Viktor nods immediately, his phone in hand, and starts barking orders, signaling to a staffer in our makeshift command center.

Swiveling back to Joshua, I demand, "Her guards?"

He shakes his head, a silent conveyance of grim news.

"Damn it," escapes me, a rare slip of control, my fists clenching and unclenching in a rhythmic dance of fury and restraint.

But Joshua isn't finished. "There's more. Miss Pia was supposed to meet with her friend, Miss Cypress—Don Melchor's niece, who orchestrated her previous escape—at a café. The driver could not identify Miss Cypress, or he might have intervened."

Viktor interjects, "I've requested all available surveillance footage. We'll have eyes on it within minutes."

Turning back to both Joshua and Darrel, I issue one final order. "Prepare the cars." Their nods are swift, synchronized with my next move—dialing my brothers.

The ungodly hour in Mexico does little to deter me. This concerns my family; deep down, I know their response will mirror my urgency. Gabriel's voice, heavy with sleep, answers after the second ring. "Hey, how are you?" he mumbles, barely awake.

"Hold on, getting Diego on," I say without preamble, my finger already navigating to conference Diego. Their comprehension of the situation's gravity is immediate.

"You all right?" Diego's voice cuts through, more alert.

Taking a moment, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. "There's a complication, a deviation from our plan. I've…fallen for someone. It's complicated. She's from a rival cartel. Her name's Pia Mendoza and she's been taken. I'm still piecing together the details," I explain, pausing to gauge their reactions or answer questions.

Diego's is direct. "What kind of deviation are we talking about?"

I nod to myself, forgetting the limitations of a phone call. "I need to pause our current operations. I'm reaching out to Tito Melchor once I have more information on who's behind Pia's abduction. I need Las Águilas Nocturnas on this."

"I understand." Diego's voice is firm, supportive.

Gabriel chimes in after a brief pause, "How can we assist?"

The tension that had coiled tight in my chest begins to unravel. "I need you both here. With Pia being my focus, I can't afford to slip up with our mission. Please."

The following silence stretches, laden with anticipation and dread, until they finally reply in near unison, "Of course."

Gabriel takes charge. "We'll start preparations immediately. I'll brief Papá and manage things on this end."

"We'll get her back, Marco." Diego's assurance is a balm.

After ending the call, a renewed sense of purpose steels me as I rejoin my team and outline the adjusted plan. Mid-discussion, one of our hackers' interrupts, beckoning us to the main screen. Silence falls over the room as we digest the footage. Each clip sheds more light on Pia's situation—until we watch live footage.

"Where is this?" My voice is a low growl, eyes never leaving the screen.

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