26. Brando
26
brANDO
T he screen flickers to life, the sound of static filling the room. I stand on high alert, my eyes roaming over every inch of the image on the screen. Mason Ironside, standing beside me, shifts from one foot to another, his agitation getting the better of him. It’s when the screen zooms in to focus on the girl’s face that he emits a slow, blood curdling scream.
I can understand his pain. I can feel it as it echoes through the room and wraps around each one of us, unbearable in its assault.
Sophia Andrade sits in a chair in the middle of an empty room, her feet tied in front of her, hands tied at her back. There’s a gag in her mouth, obscuring her lower face, but there’s no disputing her identity. It’s Sophia Andrade, as I live and breathe.
Her eyes are wide, her feet tapping wildly on the ground with some urgency. A shadow falls upon her. A shadow in the form of a huge man walking slowly towards her. He stops, tilts his head and watches her curiously. He’s wearing a mask, but there’s no denying the force of his piercing eyes as they look at a fearful Sophia.
Sophia’s eyes widen more, her feet tapping becoming more desperate as she rocks back and forth in the chair, thrashing about in a bid to free herself.
“I’ll kill him!” Mason swears. “I’ll fucking kill him!”
It’s all we can do to hold him down as he rages through the room. Scar and Enzo wrestle him to the ground, holding him down until he taps out and tells them he’s fine. I turn back to the screen and watch. Lucky’s hacker friend found the video and sent us a copy. If Falcone set up this auction and has put Sophia on the auction block, what’s to stop him doing the same to Mia? And I can’t fathom a reason why Sophia would be in an auction, while Maxine is not. Or maybe she is, but we haven’t found her yet. I don’t want to even consider the alternative.
My brothers hold Mason back while I continue to watch the video. Scar tells Mason to leave the room if he can’t handle other things we may soon uncover, so Mason finally relents and calms down. The burly man in the video approaches Sophia, taking out a knife. I can hear the absolute silence in the room. Especially when he approaches, whips his hand out, and uses the knife to cut a straight line down the front of her t-shirt. The fabric falls away down the middle of her chest, baring the line of skin between her breasts. She struggles more against her restraints, muffled cries behind her gag falling on deaf ears.
Just as easily as he walks into the room, the big man turns and leaves, and we all see the relief that washes over Sophia’s face as she slowly starts to calm down, her shoulders quaking with little hiccups.. But we don’t miss what would apparently be the desired outcome of the act; the bids on the side of the screen shoot up dramatically as bidders are sent into a frenzy.
“Why can’t we get a location?” Scar asks, moving to stand beside me.
“Layers and layers of encrypted servers,” Lucky tells us, pointing at the screen. “It could take us weeks, months even, to wade through the usernames to see if we can find a way in through a backdoor.”
“Are you telling me there’s nothing we can do to save my nieces?” Mason growls, and Scar has to step in and remind him once again that we’re not the enemy.
Mason is about to argue when Lupe rushes into the room and pulls me into a corner, where we speak in hushed whispers. The urgency in his actions has everyone stopping, looking on in curiosity. I look at Scar, who watches me carefully, before I nod at Lupe and he leaves the room quickly.
“We have a visitor,” I announce to the room.
A hush falls over the room as the Enforcer steps forward, the dim light flickering across his black eyes and gleaming off his dark hair. For a tense moment, the only sound is the creak of his leather shoes as he plants himself firmly in the center of the room. He’s a giant of a man; even with our dedicated height, he towers over us, taking centre stage as we watch him watching us. It’s not often that the likes of the Enforcer grace our halls.
We’ve been working with him on and off for years, although it’s well documented that his loyalty goes wherever his fancy lays. Today, he appears to be on our side, because he’s got wind of some trouble in the Gatti camp and brought us some very interesting information.
He tells us that Falcone approached him to manage the security of a shipment leaving the port in a few days. To many, it could be considered risky trusting the Enforcer, especially when he approached us of his own volition, but we listen in silence, speaking only when we have a question. For the most part, we listen. And it becomes increasingly obvious, to everyone in the room, that when the Enforcer speaks, people need to listen, because this man knows his shit.
“Who’s funding him?” Scar asks, as I watch on in curiosity. I know for a fact that the Enforcer’s services don’t come cheap. He gives nothing away without cost, but he’s freely giving us something we so desperately need. The Enforcer shakes his head, tells us he’s not sure, before he continues.
“He has friends in his corner,” he says, letting the words linger. A faint, knowing smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “He's not as connected as you are, but what he lacks in influence, he makes up for in determination. He’s hell-bent on destroying you, I’ll give him that,” he says, nodding in my direction.
Falcone's ambitions are no secret. There’s no one he won’t manipulate in his push to recruit more men, more soldiers. So far, we’ve managed to stay ahead, but I won’t pretend we haven’t taken a few hits. His seeds of discord have left us scrambling to trust anyone. The Enforcer, a man recruited by Falcone, stands loyal to us. What Falcone doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Not until I decide it will.
“Spill it,” Scar commands, his scarred brow raised in expectation.
“North docks,” the Enforcer replies, leaning in. “Midnight shipment. Not your usual run of the mill contraband.”
“Arms?” someone asks from the back.
“Among other things,” the Enforcer confirms with a nod. “I would say it’s arms of the human kind.”
Human trafficking. It’s the bane of our existence. And it could be just the vehicle that Falcone uses to move the Andrade girls.
He lays out Falcone’s plan to get the shipment out, his future ambitions, and his intentions toward us. Every detail paints a dark picture of what’s coming, and it’s exactly what we expected.
“Why are you telling us this?” Rafi asks, speaking for the first time. He moves forward, curious eyes glancing off the Enforcer. Rafi may be the youngest among us, but he’s fearless. What he lacks in experience, he more than makes up for with his smarts and the right connections. Scar has dedicated his life to keeping Rafi at arm’s length when it comes to our world, but Rafi doesn’t seem to have received the memo. Where there is danger, there is Rafi, standing in the background, the first one to jump into the fray. Fucker always knows how to sneak into the room when we try to shut him out.
“I don’t do human trafficking,” he tells us, and I find this odd coming from a man who’s made his name hurting people for a living. The fact that he has a moral compass seems a little at odds with everything we know about this man and his business ethos.
Scar rises, his face hardening into stone. “We've got work to do.” His voice rumbles, resonating through the empty room. “I want eyes everywhere. That shipment doesn’t leave our waters.”
Scar’s words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of what’s to come. The room is assembled with the best from every family, listening intently as Scar lays out the plan. Even the Maltese have offered their support, hoping to redeem themselves after their brief flirtation with Falcone.
“Can we trust this truce?” a Maltese elder asks, his skepticism evident.
“Trust is earned,” Scar replies coolly. “This is your chance to prove yourselves.” His eyes sweep the room, meeting the gaze of each leader. “You’re either down for the count, or you’re out.”
The room looks almost like a chessboard, with a who’s who of family leaders, their bodies poised for action. Solemn nods pass around the room. They’re all in. They all understand the sort of devastation and chaos that Falcone could create. They also understand the sort of futures they’ll have if they find themselves on the wrong side of the fence with the Gatti brothers.
I stand against the cold concrete wall, watching the quiet tension unfold. It’s been decided that we’ll bring the war to Falcone’s doorstep. The operation will be two-fold. Intercept the shipment at the docks simultaneously while we attack the compound and extract Mia. We have elite services on our side, and we have a failsafe plan that is almost guaranteed to work. But almost doesn’t cut it for me. I need to know that Mia and her sisters are going to be okay. Failure is not an option; it’s a curse, one I don’t plan on entertaining.
My gaze lands on the map pinned to the drawing board. We’ve scrutinized every detail, considered every possible scenario. There’s no room for “what ifs.” There’s no room for failure. I listen absentmindedly to Scar as he runs through a list of items with some of the other members.
“Positions?” he asks.
“Confirmed,” Lucky replies tersely.
“Vehicles?”
“Armored. Two blocks away, engines running.”
“Escape routes?”
“Three. All clear.”
“Backup?”
“Ready on standby,” someone else calls.
“Weapons?” I ask.
“Silent, but deadly,” Scar answers, the shadow of a smile flickering across his face.
“Perfect,” I nod, my voice cold with resolve.
Outside, the city hums with life, unaware of the undercurrent of danger coursing through its streets. But in this room, we wait, breath held in anticipation of the reckoning to come.
My thoughts are of Mia. I haven’t seen her since the night of the Gala; her absence wraps me in a painful cocoon, a sharp and dulling pain shooting through me. The same sort of pain I felt when I left her all those years ago. My helpless heart clung to the belief that we would one day meet again, that we would somehow find our way back to one another someday. But eventually, even that feeling died as time passed and it looked like we would never see each other again. Until eventually, the thought of her faded into the back of my memory and she only crossed my mind on those odd occasions when I found myself stuck in the past.
“Once this starts...” Scar begins, breaking me out of my reverie.
I lift my head, meeting my brother’s gaze. He folds his arms across his chest, watching me closely, as though in the silence that follows, he understands everything I cannot say about how Mia’s absence is making me feel. A silent understanding passes between us—a bond forged in blood and fire, unbreakable and unspoken.
“We don’t stop until we end it,” I finish for him, my voice low and deadly. This is the one thing I am certain of. This battle will be fought until the end, until there is only one man standing. Our side. Or Falcone’s. And the one thing I know without a doubt is that once we unleash our madness, we won’t stop, and we won’t concede.
Scar nods once, sharply. He’s said more in that one action than anything else he can add.
The room feels smaller now, charged with an electricity that speaks of violence and retribution. A storm is brewing, and soon, it will unleash its fury and rain bloody murder on the city.