31. Mia
31
MIA
T he black SUV idles near the warehouse, the low hum of its engine vibrating in my chest. I watch as the brothers emerge from within, preparing to leave to intercept the shipment, but my mind isn’t on the containers Frank is sending tonight. I’m thinking of my sisters.
The past few hours have been a blur of fear and desperation. Every breath I took seemed to pull me deeper into a web I didn’t know how to escape. Even though I’ve escaped Frank’s violence, I’ll never really escape him until I retrieve my sisters from him. But tonight, I have a feeling—an instinct I can’t ignore. I know my sisters are somewhere in that shipment, hidden in one of those containers. They must be. The thought of them trapped, at Frank’s mercy, makes my blood boil. But more than that, it makes me feel powerless.
But not tonight.
They wouldn’t let me go with them to the docks. Scar, Brando, and the Enforcer—none of them understand what I’m willing to risk for what’s left of my family. They think I’m fragile, too soft, but I can handle just about anything Frank throws at me, especially when I’m in the company of such powerful men. They don’t know me yet, not really. I could very well be my sisters’ only hope.
The SUV’s door clicks open. The brothers are distracted, moving toward the back of the trucks, talking in low, clipped tones. I don’t hesitate. I slip around the side of the vehicle, fast and silent, my heart racing as I crouch near the boot, waiting for my chance to dart into its dark cabin.
The darkness is my ally tonight. I open the boot quietly, sliding inside like a ghost, pulling the lid down just enough to leave a crack. The interior is cold, the scent of leather and gasoline making my stomach churn. I hold my breath as the engine roars to life again, feeling the weight of my decision settle on my shoulders.
There’s no turning back now.
The ride feels like an eternity, the motion of the SUV sending my stomach lurching with every bump in the road. My mind races, thinking of my sisters, imagining them bound and gagged in one of the containers on the docks. I can’t get the images of them on the screen out of my head – the weight of the fear and terror they must have felt alone in those rooms as Frank activated the bidding on them. I can hear my own pulse in my ears, beating louder than the engine. The air is thick with anticipation—this could be the moment, the one where everything changes.
I’m so focused on my thoughts that I don’t notice the vehicle slowing until the sudden stop jerks me forward, pressing me against the cold metal of the boot. The SUV’s door opens again, and voices flood in from the outside. The Gatti brothers are speaking in urgent tones, the sharp edge of Brando’s voice cutting through the low murmur of several other men.
My heart begins to race again. I’m not sure how I’m going to get out of this once they find me, but I don’t care. I’m here, and they’ll have no way to send me back home once they realize what I’ve done.
The boot pops open with a sharp metallic sound, and I hold my breath as someone reaches in and removes something. My body is hidden, my eyes peeking through the small crack, waiting for the moment to make my move.
But then the voices grow louder. Footsteps echo as more voices approach the vehicle. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. They’re getting closer. Too close.
“Mia,” Brando’s voice rumbles from above me, low and dangerous. “I know you’re in there.”
My breath catches in my throat. Oh God.
He doesn’t give me a chance to respond. The boot cover is flung open with such force that I’m forced to scramble out, my hands bracing against the car to steady myself. I stand up, facing him, trying to meet his gaze, though my pulse is pounding so hard, I’m sure he can hear it.
His eyes are ice—cold and furious. There’s no mistaking the anger in them, the way his jaw tightens as he takes in the sight of me, breathless and caught, looking like a deer caught in headlights.
“What the hell are you doing here?” His voice is a low growl, full of barely contained rage. His gaze flicks over me with barely veiled anger. The men standing beside him scatter away, huddling in small groups as they wait for him to destroy what little hope I have left for a future with him in it. I don’t understand why he can’t see what it means to me that I’m here for my sisters. I know he’d do the same if it were his own family at risk.
“I wasn’t going to stay behind,” I say, my voice quieter than I want it to be. “I had to know. They’re in the shipment, Brando. My sisters... they have to be. I couldn’t stay in the dark, not when they might be?—”
“Stop, Mia.” Brando steps forward, his presence a wall of fury. “We spoke about this! Why would you put yourself at risk again?” I think he already knows the answer to his own question. He steps closer, his anger suffocating me.
My throat tightens, but I hold my ground, staring up at him, not giving an inch. “They’re my family, Brando. I need to know where they are.” My voice wavers slightly, but I don’t look away. “And I have just as much right to be here as anyone else.”
The silence that follows is suffocating, the only sound the distant murmur of the docks, the clinking of metal, and the rapid beating of my heart. Brando’s gaze softens, just for a fraction of a second, but the anger doesn’t leave his features.
“Goddammit, Mia,” he mutters under his breath, before pinning me with a glare that could freeze water. “I can’t have you taking unnecessary risks; we spoke about this.”
I flinch at his words, the sting cutting deeper than I want to admit, but I hold myself steady. He’s right about one thing—I’m not built for this life, not the way they are. But I don’t have a choice. Not anymore.
I stare at the bulging fabric underneath his shirt where the bandage covers his gunshot wound. He took a risk for me; I don’t understand why I can’t do the same for him and for my sisters.
Scar approaches us, his eyes fixed on me in a hard glare. “We have to move. Mia, stay close,” he growls, his voice low but laced with authority as he takes the decision out of Brando’s hand. “If you get in the way, I won’t hesitate to drag you back to the car and lock you in it myself. Understand?”
Brando’s fingers flex at his sides, his fists clenched in frustration. Then, with a grunt, he turns away, his back to me, walking toward the others.
I stand there for a moment, caught between anger and relief, the weight of Scar’s words sinking in. He doesn’t trust me not to get in the way. Not really. But it’s something. It’s more than I expected.
Uncle Mason sidles up beside me, his hand a bruising punishment around my upper arm.
“You shouldn’t have come!” he hisses, as we fall behind the men. “How can we keep you safe while trying to have each other’s backs?”
“I won’t get in the way,” I say softly, though the fire still burns in my chest. “I just need to be here.”
“Mia,” he shakes his head. “Always so fucking stubborn!” He’s just as angry at me. They’re all angry at me. But Mason is angriest of all. “Just stay the fuck out of the way,” he says, his eyes swinging to my leg. It’ll be days, perhaps weeks, before it will feel normal again, and I can read his thoughts so clearly as he wonders if it’s going to hold me back.
“I swear I’ll stay close,” I promise him.
Mason gives me a stern look, before he reaches into the back of his waistband and takes out a gun, handing it to me.
“You use this only if you have to,” he says.
“What about you?”
He gives me a shit eating grin that lightens the mood and reminds me that things will be okay. “I’m loaded to the gills, honeypot.”
“Will you two be joining us anytime today?” Brando’s irritated voice breaks into our conversation, urging us to hurry up as they fade into the night.
The docks are quiet as we approach on foot, staying in the shadows. I stick close to Brando, my presence an unspoken challenge to his commands. The heat of his anger lingers in my chest. It’s a constant burn, like a live wire, every time he looks at me with that mix of frustration and unreadable judgment.
The truth is, I’m used to being underestimated. The world sees me as fragile, na?ve—someone who needs to be protected. But I know better than anyone what happens when you allow yourself to be seen as weak. It’s a curse, and I won’t allow myself to be another victim of it.
When I slid into the boot of that SUV, my heart pounded with more than fear. It was defiance. I wasn’t going to sit in the shadows any longer. Not when my sisters needed me. Not when I was finally beginning to understand what it meant to fight for something that mattered.
I watch now as the men start to go from container to container, inspecting shipments, each one of them moving with the precision of a well-oiled machine.
But my focus is elsewhere. I’m watching the containers, my heart in my throat.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, one of the containers is opened, and the men begin pulling out the contents. It’s crates. Boxes. But my eyes don’t leave the interior after it’s empty. Something about this container is different. I step forward, my pulse quickening.
“Wait.” My voice trembles. They’ve already started moving on to the next container. “Can I take a closer look?”
Brando’s eyes flick to me, narrowed in warning. “Mia?—”
“Please,” I whisper. “I just need to take a look.”
Brando looks between me and the container, the internal battle clear on his face. But after a long moment, he gives a stiff nod.
“Fine,” he mutters, moving to open the doors again. It’s empty.
Tears burn at the back of my eyes as I step forward and take a good look around the container. It’s still empty. The realization sends both a rush of panic and relief through my veins.
Brando’s hand on my shoulder stops me from climbing into the container. For a brief moment, I just stand there, staring blankly into the empty box, my eyes fixed on the end wall. When Brando’s grip on my shoulder tightens, I’m pulled back into the present.
“Stay back,” he orders, his voice tight. “Don’t make me regret this.”
I watch as Brando hops onto the container with the big man, the one they refer to as the Enforcer. I don’t know why he doesn’t have a real name, but I can see why the Enforcer is an apt name by the brooding hulk of muscle. He has a crowbar in his hands, which he uses to tap against the far wall.
Mason comes to stand at my shoulder, his brow furrowed as he watches the men pry at the wall.
“How did you know?” he asks, and I shrug. It was just a feeling I had.
We watch as the wall comes away, the Enforcer pulling back the fake recess slowly to reveal a hidden compartment. My eyes squint in the dark, adjusting to the lack of light, but it’s not so hard to make out the human forms huddled together in fear and hear the whimpers they emit.
Mason climbs into the container, swaying his flashlight across the faces of the figures. There is only silence all around us as we watch in horror the light moving across their faces, their shapes. Children. All children, barely a day over nine.
“You had no business being here,” Brando growls, his voice low, the anger unmistakable in his tone. I don’t know if he’s still angry at me or at the discovery of yet more bodies hidden in several containers scattered across the docks. The minute that first container was found, with twelve children squished together in less than human conditions in a compartment that was slowly sapping their oxygen, he had turned to me with sullen eyes that were grateful, yet guilt ridden. That was Brando telling me he was concerned what sort of condition we would find my sisters in. But now, he’s angry again, rage simmering through him as he jumps between containers. We still haven’t found my sisters, and there’s no indication they were ever even here.
Every inch of me wants to back away from the intensity of Brando’s glare, but I don’t. Instead, I stand tall, waiting for him to give me his best shot. I clench my jaw and meet his eyes, my defiance still burning.
“Would you have even found those children if I hadn’t been here?” I shoot back, my voice sharper than I intended.
“That’s beside the point,” he hisses.
“No, it isn’t! You’ve found four container loads of humans. That has to count for something!”
“You really want to be here if we open anymore containers, and you see your sisters that way?” he asks. There’s something so battered and broken in him as he asks the question.
“I can handle it.”
The words come out with more bite than I expect, but once they’re out, I don’t regret them. I’m not just the fragile, scared girl they think I am. I’m capable. I’m strong. I’ve had to be in order to raise my sisters, to be their mother, their sister, their friend.
Brando’s gaze hardens, his jaw tightens as if he’s considering how far he’s willing to push me. There’s a moment of silence between us, thick and suffocating, before he finally exhales, shaking his head as though he’s trying to rid himself of the frustration he’s feeling.
“You’ve got a death wish,” he mutters under his breath, but his tone softens as his fingers tickle against my shoulder. His expression remains cold, but there’s something softer behind his eyes, a flicker of something indefinable. “If it’s not your own, it’s mine. You’ll be the death of me, Mia Andrade.”
My pulse quickens at the unspoken weight in his words. He and I, we’re two parts of a whole. He can’t stand the thought of anything happening to me anymore than I can stand the idea of losing him.
Brando stares at me for a long moment, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features. There’s a kind of torment in his eyes, but he doesn’t let it show. Not fully. He’s the Gatti heir, the face of control, the one who never lets his guard down. But I see it—a crack in his armor. And it both terrifies and thrills me. Because I know, with a sudden clarity, that the thought of losing control terrifies him, too.
“Don’t do this again,” Brando says finally, his voice low, almost a warning. He glances up, watches as the men clamor through the containers they’ve already been through, making sure they haven’t missed anything else. “I can’t protect you when you do foolish, reckless things.”
My chest tightens, and for a split second, I feel the weight of his words. I’m not his responsibility. I’m not some damsel he needs to save. But he’s taken on the role, and he’s done it with the weight of all his resources behind him. His brothers are here. He has a small army at the docks, assisting in an operation that started with us ten years ago when Frank Falcone infiltrated our tight knot and inserted himself in our lives in some cruel plan for vengeance. An operation that would have stayed retired had Frank just stayed away, but instead, he came back and once again instigated himself in our lives, resurrecting the past. But none of us are the same people we were ten years ago. I am older, wiser, and I’ve developed a resilience that few can shatter. Brando is untouchable; with the backing of his brothers and some of the most powerful families in the country, there’s not much that can touch him. If anything, right now, I am possibly his greatest weakness, and this doesn’t sit too well with me.
As if to validate my thoughts, Brando’s eyes soften, just barely, and it feels like a silent promise. He wants to keep me safe. But not in the way I need him to. He can’t shelter me from what’s to come any more than he can control what’s about to happen.
I meet his gaze, my heart pounding harder than before. There’s no winning with him, not entirely. But for the first time in a long while, I feel something stirring deep inside me—a spark of something dangerous. I’m no longer just a girl from the past that crosses his mind every once in a while. I’m part of the game now. I’m part of his life, and he too is part of mine.
As we walk toward the rest of the crew, I notice his eyes flicking toward me again. It’s subtle, but it’s there. And this time, it’s not anger in his gaze.
It’s something darker. Something far more dangerous.
And if we’re not careful, we could lose ourselves to this darkness forever.