Enzo looks between us, his dark eyes sharp. "Alessandro? What's wrong? What happened?"
I don't owe them an explanation, and I don't have a single second to waste. It’s not like they’ve ever been helpful to mebefore. I turn to the elders, my face completely pale but set in a murderous expression. "Meeting dismissed."
Without waiting for their protests, I turn on my heel and storm out of the boardroom with Valerio right at my heels, ready to kill anyone who stands in my way.
My frantic panic instantly solidifies into a cold, lethal fury. The moment we reach the car and slam the doors shut, the map of the city flashes in my mind. Luca wants an execution, but I am going to give him a massacre.
"We can't just ride in there blind," Valerio says, his hands gripping the steering wheel as he tears out of the parking lot. "It's a trap, Alessandro. He's expecting you to lose your mind and rush to the building alone."
"I know," I say, my voice sounding completely detached, hollowed out by pure rage. "And it would be foolish to walk into that warehouse by myself, no matter how badly I want to rip his throat out with my bare hands."
We plan quickly on the drive back, our voices sharp as we coordinate the geometry of the strike. We arrange for our own vanguard to approach the location unseen, establishing a tight perimeter around the warehouse long before my vehicle even pulls up to the gates.
The second we arrive back at the estate, the entire security detail knows something is deeply wrong. We gather the inner circleimmediately in the tactical meeting room, the large digital map of the docks glowing against the wall.
I stand at the head of the table, looking at the faces of my most ruthless soldiers. I begin to allocate my men and give them their orders.
"We are doing a silent envelopment," I command, my finger tapping a grid on the screen. "I want snipers on the adjacent rooftops. I want breached entries covered. Every single one of you knows exactly how a clean sweep works. You approach that location as ghosts. You do not breathe, you do not blink, and you do not make a sound until I give the signal."
I lean over the table, my eyes locking onto every man in the room, letting the raw, murderous promise of my words sink into their skin.
"If Luca catches wind of a single shadow," I whisper, the threat hanging heavy in the room, "if any of you fuck up and ruin this operation, Luca won't have the chance to kill you. I will do it myself. Move out."
The men file out of the room, their boots heavy against the floor, leaving behind a silence thick with anticipation.
Valerio sighs into the quiet, his voice low but steady. "It’ll be fine. We’ll find Sienna in one piece."
"We better," I reply, the words tasting like ash.
By 1:00 PM, Valerio and I finally leave the estate, heading straight toward Luca’s coordinates. The updates from our men are already coming in—everyone is in position, waiting for the signal.
I am primed for blood, ready to bring Sienna back from the brink and make Luca regret ever putting his hands on what belongs to me.
Today, Luca's luck runs out. Today, I will kill him.
When we arrive at the abandoned warehouse, I step inside, the heavy air smelling of dust and impending violence. Luca is waiting for me, and I’m not surprised Pietro is also there, standing alongside several of the Kuznetsovs' most important men—a clear sign of how deep this betrayal runs.
No one speaks, the tension in the room too thick to be cut by a knife.
Then, my eyes immediately find her.
Sienna is on the ground, restrained and bruised, but her eyes are open. She is still conscious. Seeing her like that forces a terrifying, absolute calm over me. Every instinct screams to tear the room apart, but I force myself to go dangerously still. I don't rush forward. Luca wants me emotional; he wants me careless.
I won't give him the satisfaction. But as I stand there, locking eyes with her, my focus never leaves Sienna.
“The rules of engagement have changed, Alessandro," Luca says, stepping into the weak shaft of light cutting through the warehouse roof.
He gestures down at Sienna like she is nothing more than a piece of disputed territory. "You want her breathing? You sign over the Gallo name, the assets, the routes. Everything. Walk away, and she goes with you. Stay, and you watch her die."
Beside him, Pietro let out a low, wet laugh. He is practically vibrating with the thrill of it, eyes darting between us, convinced they have finally found the loose thread that would unravel my entire existence.
On the concrete floor, Sienna shifts, a harsh cough racking her chest. She forces her chin up, her gaze burning into mine through the grime and blood on her face. "Alessandro, don't," she rasps, her voice cracking under the strain. "Don't you dare give him?—"
"Sienna."
I cut her off with a single, quiet word that slices right through the ambient noise of the warehouse. I don’t look at Luca. I don’t look at Pietro, or the Russian shadows standing just behind them. My eyes stay locked on hers, absorbing every bruise, every scratch, anchoring her to me.
"Stop talking," I murmur softly.
