26. Nerio
26
NERIO
T he engine purrs as I guide my BMW through Chicago's darkened streets, Marco riding shotgun while two SUVs filled with our guys follow close behind. Streetlights cast intermittent shadows across the dashboard. The south side unfolds before us — a maze of warehouses and forgotten industrial spaces perfect for conducting business away from prying eyes.
"Elliott's intel better be solid." Marco checks his piece, the metal gleaming. "Last thing we need is walking into a Mantione ambush."
"He's good for it." I take a sharp right, tires crunching over broken asphalt. I'd been watching him all afternoon. I'm not so easily baited, and I'm slightly insulted that Marco would insinuate such a thing. "Besides, the Mantiones aren't exactly known for subtlety. If they were waiting, we'd know."
The warehouse looms ahead, a hulking silhouette against the night sky. I kill the headlights and ease into position behind a defunct loading dock. Our guys file out silently, weapons ready. Years of working together means we move as one unit, no words needed.
"Two guards at the side entrance," Marco whispers, peering around the corner. "Another probably inside."
I nod, studying the building's layout. "Take Ray and circle around back. Tony, get eyes on that roof. Rest of you, with me. Remember - we're here to send a message, not start a war."
The night air carries the tang of motor oil and rust. Footsteps crunch softly as our team splits up, melting into shadows. Through the grimy windows, light flickers — probably from portable construction lamps. Voices drift out, muffled but animated. Mantione's guys, planning their move against us like the idiots they are.
My phone vibrates — a text from Marco.
Back's clear. Ready when you are.
I gesture to our guys, watching them take position. The weight of my gun is familiar against my palm, but tonight it's just insurance. Sometimes the mere suggestion of violence carries more weight than the act itself.
"On my mark," I breathe into my earpiece. The warehouse door beckons, and behind it, our message waiting to be delivered. Time to remind the Mantiones why the Buetis aren't to be fucked with.
I give the signal and we surge forward. The door splinters under Tony's boot. Gunfire erupts, muzzle flashes strobing through clouds of dust and debris. The Mantione crew scrambles for cover, but we've got them boxed in.
"Drop your fucking weapons," I command, my voice cutting through the chaos. Some comply immediately — street soldiers who know when they're outmatched. Others need more convincing.
Marco takes down a stubborn one trying to play hero, driving him face-first into a stack of crates. Blood sprays across wooden slats. Another rushes me with a knife. Amateur. I sidestep, grab his wrist, and slam my elbow into his temple. He crumples.
"Clear the back rooms," I order, stepping over an unconscious body. The warehouse echoes with shouts and the sound of fists meeting flesh.
Movement catches my eye — a figure darting between shadows toward a side exit. Young, expensive clothes, moving like he's been trained to blend into the shadows his whole life. The dim light catches his face and recognition clicks.
"Well, well. Luca Mantione."
He freezes, hand on the door. In the poor light, I watch as he rolls his shoulders back, his face melting into a neutral mask that he's perfected. Daddy's golden boy, caught where he shouldn't be.
"Nerio." He answers like we're old acquaintances. "Didn't expect to see you here."
His nonchalant rubs me the wrong way. "No? I expect not when you were planning an attack against me." I advance slowly, watching his moves. He's young but was raised in the family. I'm not stupid enough to discount that. "Wonder how the old man would feel about that."
He levels me with that bored stare of his, and I swear, sometimes I think the guy is a fucking psychopath. And that is coming from me. "Like it fucking matters."
"Oh?" Not quite the response I expected, though it has been years since I've seen Luca with his father, being pushed around by the older Mantione. "So you don't think your father cares what you're doing with his resources?"
Marco appears at my shoulder, gun trained on Luca. The kid's eyes dart between us, calculating odds he won't like.
"Should we take him?" Marco asks. Luca doesn't even react to the words, not except for the slight shift in his stance like he's thinking about fighting us.
But then Ray appears, and I give Marco a nod. "Secure him."
Marco and Ray move in, zip-ties appearing. Luca tries to jerk away but Ray catches him with a precise strike to the back of his knee. He goes down hard.
"You're making a mistake," Luca says awfully calmly as they bind his wrists. "My father-"
"Your father doesn't know you're here." I crouch to his level, studying the neutral set of his features. Nothing gives away what he's thinking. "Which means you've been running your own little operation without permission. That's going to be an interesting conversation."
Tony appears in the doorway. "Building's clear, boss. Found their ledgers - looks like junior here's been skimming."
"I want everything documented." I straighten, addressing our crew. "Photos, paperwork, security footage if they have it. Package it all up nice for Don Mantione."
"What about the others?" Marco jerks his head toward the Mantione soldiers scattered across the floor.
"Let a few crawl back to their don. They can deliver the first part of our message." I turn to Luca, who's been watching me with a blank stare. "You'll be delivering the second part personally."
"Listen," Luca tries again. "When it comes to my father?—"
"Save it." I check my watch. "Load him in the BMW. And make sure our friend here is comfortable — we wouldn't want Don Mantione thinking we don't know how to treat family."
Ray and Marco haul Luca to his feet. He's surprisingly nimble on his feet as he gains his balance quickly, looking far too in control.
Maybe I've underestimated the young Mantione for too long.
"Get this cleaned this up," I order to the others. "I want no trace we were here except what I choose to leave behind."
It takes us an hour to sort through what guys we need to dispose of, my guys to sweep the place and gather any information, and get loaded up.
The drive back to The Vault is tense, Luca secured between Marco and Ray in the back seat. My phone lights up — Elliott's name flashing across the screen.
"What've you got for me?"
"Nerio." Elliott's voice carries an edge I've never heard before. "We've got a problem. Jazz-" He breaks off, typing sounds in the background. "Someone grabbed her outside the club. My cameras caught two guys forcing her into a black SUV."
Ice floods my veins. My grip tightens on the steering wheel until my knuckles go white. "Where?"
"I tracked the vehicle. They took her to a warehouse on the river, off South Lumber Street. But Nerio — Don Mantione's there. His personal security detail arrived ten minutes ago."
"Send me the exact location." I cut across three lanes of traffic, ignoring the blaring horns.
"Already did. There's more — they've got at least fifteen guys stationed around the perimeter. Heavy artillery."
Luca shifts in the backseat, and I catch his smirk in the rearview mirror. My foot presses harder on the gas.
"Keep monitoring those feeds. I want to know every breath they take."
"On it. But watch yourself — something's off about this. The timing-"
"Text me any changes." I end the call, swerving onto a side street. "Marco, call our guys. I want every available man at the staging point in fifteen."
"They took your club manager?" Luca's voice drips with dark amusement. "Didn't realize she was important enough to-"
I slam on the brakes. Luca lurches forward, caught by his seatbelt. In one fluid motion, I'm out of my seat and yanking open his door, wrapping my hand around his throat.
"You knew." I squeeze, but he doesn't react. It's like he's used to this shit. "This whole thing was a distraction."
"No," he says, the strangled tone the only indication that my actions are having any effect on him.
"Your father doesn't make moves like this. This reeks of amateur hour — your signature. So tell me, what exactly was your plan? Grab her while I'm occupied with your pathetic attempt at empire building?"
Marco's phone chirps. "Three more SUVs just pulled up to the warehouse. They're moving something inside."
"Hurry," Luca rasps out, seemingly refusing to gasp for the oxygen I am depriving him. "My father shouldn't be left alone with pretty women."
I release his throat and pull my gun, pressing the barrel under his chin. "You think this is a fucking game? Every second you waste, every breath you take without telling me exactly what I want to know — those are seconds she's in danger. And if anything happens to her, I'm going to make you wish your father had never looked at your mother."
Luca tips his chin down, letting the barrel dig into him. "Then you should know my father doesn't know about The Vault. But I had no part in taking your club manager."
"You stupid fucking child." I slam him back against the seat. "So you're both running plans that have fucked each other. You think taking her was going to end in anything but blood?"
He just stares at me, but I can see it written across his face. He was hoping it would.
What kind of civil fucking war have I walked into with the damn Mantiones?
I turn away, knowing that he's useless to me right now. I need to focus on Jazz. Thankfully, Marco's already on the phone, barking orders. "I want teams in position. Full tactical. And get me blueprints of that warehouse."
I climb back into the driver side just as my phone buzzes — Elliott again. "Talk."
"They've got her in the northwest corner, second floor. Three guards outside the door, more scattered throughout. But Nerio..." He pauses. "She's fighting back. Camera caught her trying to take down one of her guards before they subdued her."
Pride and rage war in my chest. Of course she's fighting. My little dove with that fire that I love to see.
"Keep watching. I want to know the instant anything changes."
Marco catches my eye. "Our guys are five minutes out. We'll have enough firepower to level the place."
"No." I slide back behind the wheel. "We do this smart. Quick and clean - get her out before they realize what's happening. Then..." I glance at Luca. "Then we make sure everyone understands exactly what happens when they cross this line."
The engine roars to life. Marco's already coordinating positions, Ray checking weapons. The night stretches ahead, full of promise and violence. And somewhere in that warehouse, Jazz is waiting. Fighting.
They wanted to use her against me. Instead, they've given me every reason to unleash hell.
"Let's go get our girl."