Kanyan (Gatti Enforcers #1)

26. Kanyan

26

KANYAN

T he moment the power cuts out, I know something is wrong. The darkness is too complete, too sudden. It takes a split second for my instincts to kick in, and I reach for Lula, pulling her behind me. My hand tightens around hers as chaos erupts in the ballroom—shouts, chairs scraping against the floor, glass shattering in the confusion. People fumble with their phones, tiny screens lighting up like fireflies in the dark, but it doesn’t bring order. It’s madness.

Scar’s voice booms above the noise, raw and frantic. “Allegra! Where are you?” He’s pushing through the crowd, shoving people aside, his desperation carving a path of chaos.

I can feel Lula trembling behind me, her fingers gripping mine like a lifeline. “Stay close,” I murmur over my shoulder. My voice is low, steady, but inside, my gut churns. Something feels off—this isn’t just a random blackout, not when the rest of the street is still glowing with light while we’re the only building plunged into darkness. And what are the odds that the generator would also fail?

When the power finally flickers back on, it’s like surfacing after being dragged underwater. The ballroom comes into sharp focus: scattered tables, spilled wine staining the white tablecloths, and panicked faces turned toward Scar.

He’s at the center of it all, his hands gripping the edge of a table as though it’s the only thing keeping him upright. His face is pale, his eyes wide and wild, and the sound he makes when someone tells him Allegra isn’t anywhere in the hotel... it’s not a sound I’ll ever forget. It’s guttural, broken—a raw, animalistic cry of anguish.

“Check the cameras!” he roars, spinning toward one of the hotel security staff. His chest is heaving, his fists clenched so tight I can see the veins bulging in his forearms.

The guard stammers, shaking his head. “The system’s down, sir. Everything went offline when the power was cut.”

Scar’s fist slams into the nearest wall, the impact reverberating through the room. He’s not just angry; he’s unraveling. I’ve seen Scar furious before, but this—this is something else entirely. This is grief in its purest, rawest form.

“We’ll leave no stone unturned, Scar,” Dante says, stepping forward. His usual calm is replaced by a grim determination.

“No!” Scar’s voice cracks as he shouts, his hands raking through his hair. “She’s here—she has to be here!”

I glance at Lula, her face pale and tight with worry. I don’t have to say it out loud; she knows as well as I do that this isn’t an accident. Someone planned this. Someone wanted Allegra.

Scar paces like a caged animal, his movements jerky and restless. “What are we doing standing around? Find her!” he yells, his voice hoarse. “She could be anywhere—she could be—” His words choke off, and for a moment, he looks like he’s going to collapse under the weight of his own fear.

I step closer to him, my tone firm but calm. “We’ll find her, Scar. But you need to keep it together. Losing it won’t bring her back faster.”

His eyes snap to mine, blazing with fury and something deeper—something vulnerable. “Don’t tell me to keep it together, Kanyan. My wife is gone! My. Wife. Is. Gone!”

I bite back my first response, swallowing my own frustration. Scar’s not thinking straight, and I don’t blame him. If it were Lula... I don’t let myself finish that thought.

“We’re not giving up,” I say instead, my voice low enough that only he can hear. “Whoever did this, will pay with their life. We’ll find her, Scar. But I need you with me.”

He glares at me, his chest heaving, but he nods, just barely.

As the hours drag on, the hotel becomes a maze of shadows and whispers. Every corner is searched, every door flung open, but Allegra’s nowhere to be found. The weight of her absence hangs heavy in the air, and I can see it in every line of Scar’s face.

He looks like a man on the edge of breaking, his grief clawing its way to the surface. Every time someone approaches him with another update—another dead end—his hands clench at his sides, and his jaw tightens like he’s holding back a scream.

I watch him, and for the first time, I wonder if Scar can come back from this. If we don’t find Allegra, what will be left of him?

And as much as I hate to admit it, a dark thought worms its way into my mind: if they can get to Allegra, who’s to say they can’t get to Lula next? My grip tightens around her hand. Over my dead body.

It’s well past midnight when the call comes. I’m standing in the hotel lobby, my body on edge, every muscle coiled tight from hours of searching for Allegra with nothing to show for it. Scar is pacing like a madman nearby, muttering under his breath. Dante’s the one who takes the call, his expression unreadable as the concierge hands him the phone.

I watch him closely, the way his hand tightens around the receiver, his jaw ticking as he listens. Dante’s always the calm one, the rock, but even he looks rattled. He hangs up, turns to face us, and sweeps his gaze over the room, landing briefly on me before flicking to Lula. Then back to me, his sharp eyes assessing, calculating. My stomach twists into a knot. This can’t be good.

“They have Allegra,” Dante says, his voice low but carrying enough weight to stop Scar in his tracks. The room goes still, the air heavy with tension.

Scar rushes forward, his face a mix of fury and desperation. “Who has her?” His voice cracks, but the steel in it is unmistakable.

“I’m assuming the Albanians,” Dante replies grimly. “Because they’re demanding a trade for Lula.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. My blood turns to ice as rage simmers beneath my skin. The Albanians. Of course. These bastards won’t stop until they’ve bled us dry, and now they’re after Lula? My Lula?

Scar’s face crumples, his fists clenching at his sides as he struggles to hold himself together. He looks at me, torn between his love for his wife and the knowledge of what this swap would mean. He doesn’t have to say it; I can see it in his eyes. He’s desperate to get Allegra back but not at this cost.

Before I can speak, Lula steps forward, her voice steady, even as fear flashes briefly in her eyes. “I’ll do it,” she says.

“No.” The word is out of my mouth before I even realize it. It comes out sharp, final, like a command. “You’re not going anywhere.”

She turns to face me, her chin lifting in defiance. Her small frame doesn’t diminish her fire; it only makes it burn brighter. “They’ll give Allegra back, Kanyan. That’s what matters now.”

I step closer, towering over her, but she doesn’t flinch. “We find another way,” I snap, my voice low and dangerous. “You’re not putting yourself in their hands.”

Scar exhales shakily, dragging a hand through his hair. “They’re asking for too much,” he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. “These are not rational men; they’ll kill you both.”

Dante’s phone buzzes in his hand, and he glances down at the screen. “I’ve sent a message to Altin Kadri,” he announces. “If this is his operation, he’ll answer for it.”

We wait in silence as Dante types furiously, sending out a message that feels like a lifeline, though I’m not sure how much faith I have in it. Minutes later, his phone pings with a reply. Dante holds it up, his face darkening as he reads aloud: “This isn’t my operation. My cousin Derin has gone rogue. I’ll deal with him.”

Scar curses under his breath, his body taut with frustration. I don’t trust it. None of us do. Altin’s word means nothing when it comes to his family. Loyalty only goes so far in this world, and right now, Derin is a wildcard we can’t afford.

“We can’t just sit here,” Scar says, his voice breaking the silence. “They have my wife. What will I tell Scarlett?!” His anguish echoes through the lobby, raw and unfiltered, cutting through my own fury like a blade.

Dante speaks up, his tone firm but calm. “We won’t sit still. We’ve already got men out scouring the area; their usual corners. We will find her, Scar.”

Lula steps toward him, her voice soft but determined. “We’ll get her back, Scar. I promise. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

I grab her wrist, pulling her back to me. “You’re not trading yourself,” I say, my voice rough. “That’s not on the table.”

She stares up at me, her dark eyes blazing with determination. “You don’t get to decide that for me, Kanyan. Allegra’s life is on the line.”

“And so is yours!” I roar, my grip tightening on her wrist. “I’m not losing you.”

The room falls silent, the weight of my words hanging in the air. Lula looks at me, her defiance softening just enough for me to see the fear she’s trying to hide. My chest aches at the thought of her stepping into the hands of those animals.

Dante clears his throat, breaking the tension. “We need a plan. If Derin Kadri’s gone rogue, we can’t rely on Altin to rein him in. We’ll have to do it ourselves.”

“Don’t forget Altin Kadri is the one who ordered the hit on Kanyan and nuked the port. He’s not to be trusted,” Brando points out.

Scar turns back to us, his face a mask of anguish and rage. “We need to move fast.”

I nod, my hand still wrapped around Lula’s wrist, as if letting go might mean losing her. Scar’s pain is a stark reminder of what’s at stake, and I’ll be damned if I let the Albanians take anything more from us.