Chapter 9
Tony
The scotch isn't helping tonight. Three glasses in and I still see her face - the way Isabella looked at me in Dom's penthouse. Cold. Distant. Everything we're supposed to be to each other.
Everything we're not.
It's past midnight, and my office is too quiet. Reminds of the quiet nights I used to spend brooding about my business. Before I met a girl that turned my world upside down. Before I ruined everything. Before I chose being a coward over being with her.
Two of my guys knocked earlier, something about collections in the Village. I waved them off. Let them think I'm strategizing, planning some big move. Better than knowing their boss is sitting alone in the dark, drinking himself stupid over a woman he can't have.
A woman he won't let himself have.
My phone buzzes on the desk. I almost ignore it - who the hell calls this late? - but something makes me glance at the caller ID.
Dom.
Shit.
"Yeah?" I answer, already reaching for my jacket. Dom doesn't make late-night calls for small talk.
"Isabella's been taken."
The world stops. My heart stops. Everything just... stops. For a moment, I can't breathe, can't think, can't process the words. Then reality crashes back like a tidal wave.
"What?" The word comes out like I've been punched. Like someone's reached into my chest and squeezed.
"Outside Lavo. Black SUV. Multiple men." Dom's voice is controlled, deadly. The voice of a man about to start a war. "Elena was with her. She's okay, but they grabbed Isabella."
The glass in my hand shatters. I don't feel the cuts. Don't feel anything except a rushing in my ears and a rage so pure it threatens to consume me.
"When?"
"Twenty minutes ago. Get to my place. Now."
I'm already moving, taking the back stairs two at a time. Blood drips from my hand, leaving a trail I'll have to explain later. "I'll have my guys—"
"Bring them all. Every shooter you've got. This isn't a negotiation, Tony. This is war."
The line goes dead.
Blood drips from my hand as I dial my capos. Joe answers first, sleep heavy in his voice until he hears my tone. The orders are short, brutal: Every man. Every weapon. Dom's penthouse. Now.
"Boss, what's happening?"
"Someone took Isabella Esposito."
A sharp intake of breath. Joe knows what this means. Everyone knows what this means. You don't touch family. Ever.
More calls. More orders. By the time I reach my car, fifty men are mobilizing. Armed. Ready. Hungry for blood.
The drive to Queens is a blur of red lights and horns. I blow through intersections, weave through traffic like a madman. A cop car starts to follow, then backs off when they see who I am. Smart move. Tonight, I'd go through them without blinking.
My mind races faster than the car. Who has her? The Colombians? They've been pushing boundaries lately, testing our alliance. The Vitales? They lost territory last month when we pushed them out of Little Italy. I doubt they know of Isabella involvement. The Irish? Some new player looking to make a name?
Whoever it is, they're dead. They just don't know it yet.
But underneath the rage, there's terror. Pure, crushing terror. I know what some men in this world are capable of.
And if they hurt her...
My hands tighten on the steering wheel until the leather creaks. Blood from my cut hand stains the expensive Italian leather. I don't care.
I should have told Dom. Should have claimed her properly, put the full weight of both families behind protecting her. Instead, I played the honorable friend, the careful ally. Put business before what really mattered.
Coward.
"I'll find you," I whisper to the empty car. "I swear to God, Isabella, I'll find you. And then I'll never let you go again."
Dom's building comes into view. Cars are already lined up outside - his crew arriving for war.
The elevator feels like a cage. I check my phone - no messages, no leads, nothing. Just the memory of her last text: "Coward."
She was right. Fuck, she was right.
The penthouse is chaos when I arrive. Men in suits with guns barely concealed, speaking in urgent whispers. Maps spread across tables. Phones ringing. The tension in the air. Dom stands at the center of it all, barking orders into two phones at once.
He looks up when I enter. Something flickers in his eyes - recognition? suspicion? - but there's no time for questions.
"What do we know?" I demand, shouldering through the crowd.
"Black SUV, no plates. Four to five men, all masked. They knew what they were doing - took out the street cameras beforehand. Cut the power to half the block."
"Professional job," I growl. "Not some random grab."
"Elena said there was a guy watching them in the club. She thought something felt off."
"Tony." Dom's voice cuts through my self-recrimination. "Your hand's bleeding."
I look down. Blood still drips from where the glass cut me, staining my shirt cuff. I hadn't even noticed.
"It's nothing."
"Get it wrapped. I need you functional."
One of his guys appears with a first aid kit. I let them bandage me while listing our potential enemies. The Vitales have been aggressive lately, pushing into Queens. The Russians lost two warehouses last month. The Irish have been quiet - too quiet.
"Boss!" One of my guys bursts in. Young kid, Tommy something. Good with computers. "We found something. Traffic cam caught the SUV heading toward the Brooklyn Bridge."
"Get me everything east of the bridge," I snap. "Every camera, every angle. Find that fucking car."
More men arrive - both families merging into one force. In any other circumstance, it would be historic. The families haven't worked together like this since... ever.
But all I can think about is Isabella. Is she conscious? Hurt? Scared?
No. Not Isabella. She's too strong for fear. She's probably calculating odds, looking for weaknesses, planning her escape. Like she planned everything else in that brilliant mind of hers.
God, I love that mind. Love her fire, her strength, her...
"Tony." Dom's voice is quiet now. We're alone in his study, away from the controlled chaos outside. "There's something you're not telling me."
I meet his eyes. For a moment, I consider lying. Considering hiding behind loyalty and alliance and all the other bullshit that seemed so important twelve hours ago.
Fuck it.
"I'm in love with your sister."
The words hang there, heavy as lead. Dom's expression doesn't change, but his hand tightens on his glass.
"How long?"
"Does it matter?"
"It might."
I run a hand through my hair, probably smearing blood everywhere. "Since she kicked my ass the day we met in your gym."
A ghost of a smile touches Dom's lips. "Sounds like her."
"I tried to fight it. Tried to stay away. But..."
"But she's Isabella."
"Yeah." The word comes out raw. "Dom, if anything happens to her—"
"We'll find her." His hand lands on my shoulder, heavy as judgment. "And then you and I are going to have a very long talk."
"I know."
"But first..." He opens his study door. "Let's go get my sister back."
We return to the war room. More intel has come in - possible safe houses in Brooklyn, surveillance footage of the SUV, lists of potential hostiles. Joe's got contacts in the port authority checking shipping containers. Vincent's guys are watching the airports and train stations.
I study the maps, the reports, but all I see is Isabella. Her smile. Her fire. The way she looks when she's about to prove someone wrong.
The way she looked at me before I pushed her away.
Never again.
If - when - I get her back, I'm done being a coward. Done putting politics before what matters. Done pretending I'm not completely, hopelessly in love with the most incredible woman I've ever met.
"Boss?" Tommy appears again, tablet in hand. "We got movement in Red Hook. Black SUV matching the description just pulled into a warehouse complex."
"Get me visual confirmation," I bark. "And get every available man—"
My phone buzzes. Unknown number.
The room goes silent as I answer.
"Rivera."
A pause. Then a voice I don't recognize: "We have the girl."
Ice fills my veins. But when I speak, my voice is steady. Controlled. The voice of a man who's about to unleash hell.
"Listen carefully," I say. "Because I'm only going to say this once. Return her - unharmed - and you might live to see tomorrow. Hurt her, and there won't be a hole deep enough to hide in. I will burn this city to the ground to find you. And when I do..."
"Interesting." The voice sounds amused. "We were told you were just a business partner. But you sound like a man in love."
"I'm a man who's going to kill you. Slowly. That's all you need to know."
"Such passion. Does Dom know you want to fuck his sister?"
Red clouds my vision. "When I find you—"
"If," the voice corrects.
"Touch her and I'll make you beg for death."
"You have twenty-four hours to gather twenty million in cash. We'll contact you with delivery instructions." A pause. "And Rivera? Keep the police out of this. Or we send her back in pieces."
The line goes dead.
Dom looks at me. I look at him. No more pretense. No more hiding.
"Red Hook?" he asks.
I check my gun, tuck it into my holster. Around us, men are already moving, arming themselves, preparing for war.
"Red Hook."
Let them run. Let them hide. Let them pray to whatever god they believe in.
It won't matter.
They took Isabella.
And I'm coming for her.