Chapter Twenty-Five
The night was thick with an eerie stillness, the kind that whispered of something terribly wrong. The villa, usually humming with the distant murmur of guards and quiet footsteps, felt empty—hollow. As if it had lost something vital, something Matteo felt before he even knew the truth.
He had been in the basement, wrapping up unfinished business with the traitors, when the sharp crackle of his radio cut through the silence. Luca’s voice was clipped, urgent.
"Matteo. We have a problem."
A chill crawled down his spine. Luca never sounded shaken. Never.
Matteo didn’t hesitate. He strode through the halls with a predator’s speed, his mind already churning through worst-case scenarios. The further he moved through the villa, the more his instincts screamed that he was already too late.
Then he saw it.
The door to Isla’s room was ajar, a silent omen of the storm waiting inside.
The first guard lay just inside the threshold, a clean bullet hole through his skull, his gun still holstered—a professional hit. The second was slumped against the far wall, his throat sliced so deeply that his body had barely twitched before death claimed him. Blood painted the floor, thick and wet, the scent of iron heavy in the air.
But Isla—
She was gone.
Matteo stood motionless for a beat, his hands curling into fists, his breath slow, measured, even as rage boiled under his skin. The tangled sheets on the bed told him she had been here, resting, unaware of the danger slipping through the cracks. They had taken her fast. Silent. Efficient.
A calculated move.
"Luca," Matteo growled, his voice lethal.
Luca was already moving, barking orders into his radio as he entered the room. "Security feed is coming up now. Whoever did this, they knew exactly where to go. No struggle. No wasted movement."
Matteo’s jaw clenched. "Where’s the footage?"
Luca pressed a tablet into his hand. The screen flickered before playing back the grainy security footage. Matteo’s eyes locked onto the figures moving through the villa’s blind spots, avoiding detection with the kind of precision that only came from inside knowledge.
Then, his breath turned to ice.
Leonardo Marino stepped into frame.
Isla’s father.
The bastard had walked through Matteo’s home like he owned it, like he had every right to take back what he had given away. Isla was unconscious, draped over the shoulder of one of his men, completely vulnerable. She hadn’t fought. Hadn’t even had the chance to.
Matteo’s grip tightened around the device, his knuckles going white. His world narrowed to a single, undeniable truth.
"He took her," Matteo murmured, his voice dangerously quiet. "That son of a bitch took her while we were busy cleaning up this mess."
Luca’s face darkened. "He’s making his move."
Matteo exhaled, his fury barely restrained. Isla’s father had played the long game, had waited until Matteo was distracted, weakened from dealing with Enzo’s betrayal. He had taken her right from under his nose, inside his own walls.
A soldier appeared in the doorway, panting from running through the villa. "Boss, we found the south gate compromised. They had inside help."
Matteo didn’t so much as blink. "How long ago?"
"Less than twenty minutes. We’re tracking their exit route now."
Luca was already pulling up another screen, scanning GPS pings. "They’re heading west, toward the outskirts. Likely to one of his old warehouses."
Matteo was already moving. "Get the cars ready. We move now."
Luca hesitated for a fraction of a second. "Matteo—"
Matteo rounded on him, his eyes blazing. "Now, Luca!" His voice cracked like a whip, reverberating through the tense air. "We’re not losing her."
Luca didn't argue. He turned on his heel, barking orders into his radio as the house erupted into motion. The guards mobilized, loading into black SUVs with weapons locked and ready. Engines roared to life, headlights cutting through the darkness as the convoy prepared to roll out.
Matteo strode toward the lead car, his fingers curling around the grip of his gun. His pulse hammered like a war drum, his breath steady, calculated. The last time he had felt this level of fury was when he had claimed his first kill, back when he was just a boy learning the rules of this world. But this wasn’t just rage. This was something deeper, something darker. This was personal.
As he slid into the driver’s seat, Luca jumped into the passenger side, his phone still pressed to his ear. "We’ve got a confirmed route," Luca said quickly. "They’re heading toward an old Marino warehouse near the docks. If we move fast, we can cut them off before they reach the shipyard."
Matteo’s grip tightened on the wheel. "Then we don’t waste time."
The second the gates opened, the convoy tore through the night, the tires screeching against the road as they sped toward the western outskirts. Matteo’s focus was razor-sharp, his mind already calculating their next move.
"How many men?" he demanded.
Luca glanced at the screen tracking their target. "Six cars. Heavy security. He brought enough to keep her locked down but not enough to go to war."
Matteo’s lip curled, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. "That’s because he doesn’t think he has to. He thinks I’ll let her go. He thinks I’ll play by the rules."
Luca shot him a knowing look. "And will you?"
Matteo’s fingers flexed, his foot pressing harder against the gas pedal. The SUV growled as it surged forward, weaving through the sparse late-night traffic. "No."
Luca exhaled, shaking his head. "I figured as much. So what’s the play? Leonardo knows you’ll come for her. He’s expecting this."
Matteo’s jaw was tight, his thoughts running razor-sharp calculations. "He expects me to storm in, guns blazing. To treat this like a battlefield. That’s his mistake."
Luca frowned. "So what do you have in mind?"
Matteo’s smirk was anything but amused. "He took her because he thinks she’s leverage. That means he’s not planning to kill her right away. He wants something from me first. He’ll hold her, threaten her, try to use her to control me. But that’s where he miscalculated."
Luca arched a brow. "How so?"
Matteo’s gaze was cold, lethal. "Because I’m not coming to negotiate. I’m coming to end him."
Within minutes, the convoy was rolling out, engines roaring as they cut through the night like hunters chasing their prey. Matteo sat in the lead car, his gun resting on his thigh, his muscles coiled tight with something far more dangerous than anger—purpose.
He pressed harder on the gas, weaving between traffic, his mind a storm of calculations and bloodlust. Leonardo had taken the one thing Matteo wasn’t willing to lose. And if he thought for even a second that Matteo wouldn’t burn his entire empire to the ground to get her back, he had underestimated the wrong man.
Leonardo Marino had made the biggest mistake of his life.
Taking Isla from him had been a declaration of war.
And Matteo had every intention of ending it.