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My pulse kicks into overdrive. Without another word we follow Rafael down to the living room where Pietro stands tensely with Dante, identical looks of concern etched on their faces. My mind races wildly. What dire twist is about to upend my world?
"The cameras show Clara emerging from the back entrance this evening, alone but seemingly unharmed," Pietro explains. "We tracked her across town on foot. It looks like she returned to her old neighborhood."
Relief floods over me, the vice around my chest releasing. She left of her own volition, clearly. I've been tormenting myself, imagining the worst.
"Then it's simple. We'll go collect her immediately," I declare. A crease forms between my brows as an unwelcome thought occurs. "I don't care about her father's debt. I just want her back."
The others continue to stare at me, their faces etched with concern. Rafael shifts his weight, clearly hesitating.
"What is it?" I demand sharply.
Rafael finally breaks the tense silence. "There were at least three of Ferraro's men with her when she arrived at her apartment. But there are probably more waiting. It's clearly an ambush, Antonio. We both know you have to see that."
My blood turns to ice in my veins. Slowly, I lower myself into an armchair, gripping the carved wooden arms for support.
"Are you absolutely certain they were Ferraro's men?" I ask through clenched teeth, already knowing the terrible answer.
Dante nods grimly. "Their faces were plain as day on the surveillance video outside her building."
The room falls into a hushed, horrified silence. The very air grows thick with tension as we all absorb this grim revelation. The Ferraros clearly have Clara. They waited at her apartment to get back at me, to send a message. That she is nothing but a pawn to be used and discarded in this feud between our families.
Pure, unadulterated rage surges through me, scorching my veins like liquid fire. With a vicious, feral growl, I lunge up and grab the nearest object, a crystal decanter off the bar cart, and hurl it savagely against the paneled wall. It shatters spectacularly on impact, amber liquid spraying outward like splatters of blood.
"I'll kill them!" I roar, heedless of my brothers' alarm. "I'll kill every last one of those bastards for daring to touch her!"
"Antonio, stop!" Lorenzo leaps in front of me, hands raised placatingly. Though a head shorter, he exudes a commanding presence. "We'll make this right, but you need to think clearly."
Chest heaving, nostrils flared, I rein in my fury with monumental effort. He's right. Losing my head won't help Clara now. I need to be cunning and calculated. A predator lying in wait for the perfect moment to strike, rather than one maddened by bloodlust and acting rashly.
I pivot and stride back to the bar, pouring myself a finger of rich amber scotch. The alcohol sears a burning trail down my throat, grounding me. When I turn back, icy calm has settled over my features.
"What do we know so far?" I direct everyone crisply.
"Only that she arrived at her apartment several hours ago, and hasn't left since," Dante reports.
I begin to pace, thoughts churning furiously. Our network of street spies can likely pinpoint exactly where the Ferraros are holding her. But we'll need to assemble a team and weapons. Storming in guns blazing could be exactly what they want – an excuse to kill her in the crossfire. We need a more cunning plan.
"Rash action is precisely what they hope to provoke," Lorenzo remarks, reading my thoughts as always. Those keen eyes bore into me, sharp as daggers. "This was a bold move, even for the Ferraros. But clearly intentional, knowing she's your vulnerability."
I flinch inwardly at the harsh truth in his words. Clara is my Achilles' heel, the sole chink in my ironclad armor. I thought I concealed it so well, but my enemies saw right through me. Hell, my own brothers saw it before I did.
After an endless moment, Giovanni sinks back into the leather sofa with a resigned sigh, raking a hand through his dark waves. "You forget how well we know you, Antonio," he chides gently. "I can see the guilt eating away beneath that fury in your eyes. You're blaming yourself for this."
His words land like a physical blow. I turn away, jaw clenched against the painful truth. If not for me, Clara would be safe.
Giovanni continues firmly, "What's done is done. Beating yourself up won't bring her back. Now you need to focus everything on getting her home."
I rise swiftly, newfound determination steeling my spine. "You're right. Let's go," I direct everyone crisply. "We have a lot of work to do."
Most of our best men are already gathered close by after the arms deal tonight. Pietro and Rafael can coordinate a team, briefing them on the situation and assessing our options.
I reach beneath my tailored jacket to check the Beretta tucked in its shoulder holster, reassured by its solid weight. I'm headed straight for Clara's apartment in her old neighborhood. I need to see that place for myself, pick up any clue I can. Because one way or another, I will bring her home tonight if I have to tear the city apart brick by brick.
CHAPTER21
CLARA
The musty smell of old carpet fills my nose, barely masking the metallic tang of my father's blood. My pulse pounds in my ears, keeping time with the relentless ticking of the ancient clock hung over the kitchen sink. Each hollow tick marks the steady countdown to our doom.
