Chapter 23 Enrico
ENRICO
A shrill ring sliced through the study. A frantic voice on the other end broke through.
“Mia and Catrina—they've been taken.” The words came at me like bullets, each one lodging deep within my chest. I stood rigid, the cold tendrils of dread wrapping around my spine.
I should have seen this coming. This is all my fucking fault.
“Where?” The single word rasped from my throat, not a question so much as a demand for action. The line crackled with the heavy breath of her father, a man who had never once asked for my help until this night, a night where pride had no place.
They had to know they wouldn’t survive. Anyone dumb enough to kidnap my wife and sister… they’d never see another day. But more importantly, why were they calling Don instead of me?
“Keep your phone close.” The call ended, severing the connection to Don.
I moved out of the study and down the corridor.
“Luca, Marco, Alessio.” They emerged from the living room, specters summoned to war.
“We’re going to block 22 by the docks. No gunfire unless necessary—we need them alive.
” My command was met with nods, the silent language of men who had long since sworn their loyalty to me—and me alone.
I turned on my heel; the shadows swallowed me whole as I stepped into the night. The city would soon awaken to the echo of retribution. I pulled up about a quarter mile away from block 22 by the docks.
“Positions.”
They were phantoms in the night, each movement precise and deliberate.
I surveyed the perimeter while Luca moved to the back entrance. Marco took point at the side alley, while Alessio disappeared. Every potential escape route was quietly sealed off. None of their men were getting out of her alive tonight.
“Are you ready?” Don asked.
“We're in position. Remember, no heroics. We do this clean — in and out.”
“Understood.” There was a pause, a momentary crack in his resolve. “Enrico... I can’t let them take her from me.”
I knew the risks, the weight of the lives in my hands. But I also knew the code by which I lived—loyalty was the lifeblood of my world. The two teams dispersed to their spots, and Don followed me. My fingers curled tighter around the grip of the gun, a cold extension of my resolve.
Mia's father matched my pace. He was a man whose age had not dulled his instincts nor his ability to wage war on those who dared harm his kin. We communicated without words, a glance here, a gesture there—the language of men for whom violence was a second tongue.
A flicker of movement caught my eye. I stilled, a predator in wait, senses stretched taut for any hint of danger.
Mia's father mirrored my caution. The entrance loomed ahead, its door ajar like the maw of some slumbering beast. Two figures emerged from the shadows, the guards unwittingly stepping into their final moments.
I didn't falter. The world narrowed to the space between my finger and the trigger, the breath I took before gunfire.
The two guards crumpled, marionettes severed from their strings. I advanced, every shot a whispered promise to Mia, every fallen enemy a step toward her salvation. They wouldn’t even hear us coming. Silencers came in handy.
Mia's father was relentless at my side, his own weapon speaking the brutal language of retribution.
As the last guard fell, a hush descended.
I stepped over lifeless forms, path clear but lined with the specters of what must be done.
For Mia, for loyalty, for the unwritten codes etched into my very soul, I would see this through to its bloody end.
I’d prove to Mia my undying loyalty to her and make sure everyone around knows not to fuck with me or my family.