Chapter Thirty-Three
Damiano
“You can’t just fucking resign!” Luc bellows over the roar of the jet’s engine. “We are not a goddamned Wall Street company where you can drop in and out as you fucking please.”
I shrug, unfazed by his outburst.
We are on the private jet, and I figured I’d use the seclusion of the flight to break the news to Luc and Teo.
“It’ll be a clusterfuck, I know, but I’m done. I’m stepping down. You’ll do fine as the new Don. And I trust you to keep the wolves at bay.”
“I don’t fucking want to be Don. Ask Teo to do it.” he snarls. I look at Teo, who merely holds up his hands, signaling that he wants to have nothing to do with this conversation.
I’m getting frustrated. “Then fucking give the title to Gian Mancini for all I care,” I grit out.
“No fucking way!” Luc is seething, his hands are balled into fists and I’ve never seen him this pissed. We are both glaring and snarling at each other.
“It’s her, isn’t it?” Teo’s calm voice cuts through the tension like a blade, and both of us snap our heads in his direction.
I am the first to break eye contact, my gaze drifting to the window, but that is all the answer he needs.
Luc curses under his breath, his face tight with both anger and something raw… hurt.
“Have you talked this over with her first?” Teo asks, his tone steady.
“There is no talking. She doesn’t want this life.”
Luc cusses again, his jaw working, but his expression betrays his hurt. He’s not angry anymore. Only disappointed.
“Look, I know it’s unexpected and I will help you ease into the role.” I try to reason with him. “I will stay until we’ve dismantled this human trafficking ring, and then I’m gone.”
He opens his mouth to protest, but I cut him off, my voice firm, commanding. “I gave you a heads-up out of respect for our friendship,” I say, locking eyes with him. “But don’t forget—I’m still the Don for now. The final decision is mine.”
He leans back in his seat, his jaw clenched, eyes hard.
I sigh and try to defuse the tension. “Let’s focus on the matters at hand. There are lives on the line. This new lead might give us a breakthrough.”
Teo had pulled a few characters from a corrupted message buried deep in the dark web, barely enough to piece together one possible word—Manteca.
Now we are en route to California, hoping the city with the same name will give us more clues.
We are halfway to Stockton and will land in about three hours.
I look down at my watch and frown. I should have received an update from one of Lily’s bodyguards ten minutes ago. I unlock my phone to check if I missed a notification, but there is nothing. No new messages.
Fifteen minutes later there is still nothing.
I try to call Lily on her phone. The line rings until the call goes to voicemail.
Dread coils in my gut, dark and poisonous.
Teo is already on his phone with his team.
When he hangs up, his face is grim, his expression unreadable. “D, there’s been a problem.”
I have the jet turned around in less than five minutes.
* * * *
Too many fucking hours later, we finally arrive at the Bianchi estate. The mansion is already crawling with my men. I’d given strict orders—nothing gets touched, and the authorities are to be kept out of this.
On the flight back and through the drive from the airstrip, I’ve kept myself locked down, detached, cold. Each heartbeat was a countdown toward action, toward war. For now, I must be the Don—focused, deadly. Not the man whose soul is unraveling thread by thread.
The moment the car begins to slow, I’m already out. The door slams behind me as I bolt up the stone steps. The cold wind does nothing to douse the fire under my skin.
My men—her guards—lie motionless at the top of the steps. With execution-style shots clean through the head. They didn’t even have time to reach for their weapons.
Ice slithers down my spine. This was precise and professional.
I storm into the house, my steps echoing off the marble like gunshots. The scent of blood hits me first. Then I see her.
Daria.
Crimson pools around her chest where the bullet entered. Her glazed eyes are locked on the chandelier above, her mouth slightly parted, as if death had caught her mid-sentence. I don’t waste time grieving her.
“Where are they?” my voice comes out rusty and foreign in my ears.
“No trace of them, D.” Luc’s voice is ringing from far away. “Our men looked everywhere. There are no other bodies, and no survivors. It looks like the struggle took place in the living room and the women were taken from here.”
Cold rage seeps into my soul and my vision narrows, I can’t breathe. The walls of the room close around me, the white noise in my ears broken only by Teo’s voice as he relays orders with a clipped urgency, phone glued to his ear.
“There’s no camera feed, nothing outside, nothing inside. Either they were cut or never existed.”
My skin itches with the need to break something.
Something metallic glints beneath Daria’s twisted body. I step over, nudge her aside with my foot. A phone.
“Teo.” I don’t even look at him.
He’s already calling a gloved tech over. “Bag it. I want it stripped down, recovered, decrypted. Now.”
A thought grips me. Lily’s phone. I call her. It rings, faintly, from inside the room.
No.
Teo’s head snaps toward the sound and he follows it to a pale pink purse lying beneath a chair. He retrieves her phone and bags it without a word.
“She doesn’t have it with her,” I rasp. My jaw clenches until pain radiates through my skull.
Luc steps up beside me. “We also found Chiara’s phone on the coffee table. They left them both.”
They’d planned for that. Planned to leave no trace. Planned to take her from me.
My gut twists painfully. My heart is a wild drumbeat now, thunder in my ears.
I close my eyes for just one second. And in that second, I see her face.
Lily, smiling at me. Lily, asleep in my bed. Lily, her eyes full of trust and light.
And now…she’s gone.
“D,” Luc says in a gentle tone, his hand settling on my shoulder. “Let’s move. Teo’s team will work on the phones. If there’s a lead, it’ll come from there.”
I nod, the movement stiff. My body obeys, but my mind, my heart, are already elsewhere. In the dark, in some cold room where she might be scared.
Alone.
Where are you, little flower? I swear to God, I will burn the world down to bring you back.
* * * *
We are back in Teo’s office again. The air feels thinner here. My lungs ache like I’m inhaling fire with every breath, the suffocating weight of déjà vu pressing down on me. I stand motionless, barely hearing the hum of equipment or the low murmur of my men.
“D, look at this.” Teo’s voice slices through my haze. I move behind his desk, and when I see the screen, everything inside me stills. My blood freezes.
“What the fuck,” I rasp. “Is that…?”
“It’s from Daria’s phone, the one we found under her body,” he confirms grimly. “A text exchange with an unregistered burner. Completely off-grid. Number’s already dead.”
We scroll through the thread in silence, each line carving a deeper hole in my chest.
Daria: It’s set up, she will be here at noon. What time for the pickup?
Unknown Number: What do you suggest?
Daria: At teatime will be easiest. I will give her special tea.
Unknown Number: Team will be ready. How many guards?
Daria: Don’t know yet, will let you know.
Unknown Number: Keep them outside and my men will take care of the problem.
Daria: ok
Hours later.
Daria: 2 bodyguards, outside. Girl is ready for collection.
One hour later.
Unknown Number: Tick tick, Don.
A sound escapes me, a guttural, feral roar as I grab a chair and slam it into the wall. The crash echoes like thunder and wood splinters fly across the room.
“Fuck. That bitch set it up,” Luc mutters, stunned.
My jaw tightens until I taste blood. I clench my fists so tightly my nails cut into my palms. If Daria weren’t already lying dead in her own mess, I’d drag her through hell myself.
“But why is she dead?” Teo asks, brows furrowed.
“She was double-crossed,” I grind out. “She sold out one girl, but they probably took two. Her partner didn’t need her anymore. She was a loose end.”
Teo shifts to another monitor. “Chiara’s phone’s clean. She either didn’t know anything or she’s damn good at hiding it.”
“What do we have?” I growl, hating the helplessness creeping in.
Teo winces. “They were pros. Left nothing behind… Wait, hold up.” His voice sharpens. “What the hell… It’s him.”
“Who?” Luc and I say in unison, stepping in.
“The ghost, the hacker,” Teo mutters, fingers flying over the keyboard. “He’s been poking around for weeks, trying to get into my systems. He set off a few flags before, but couldn’t break through.”
“Is he in now?”
He sends me an offended look over his shoulder and huffs. “As if he could. He’s trying. Looks like he’s targeting the phones from today. Lily’s, Daria’s, Chiara’s.”
A bolt of instinct hits me. “Let him in.”
Teo twists in his chair. “You sure? If he wipes anything—”
“You have backups?”
“Of course, but—”
“Let him in.”
He exhales sharply, then gets to work. We crowd around his desk, staring at the monitor as if we could catch a glimpse of the phantom fingers dancing through our data. For a long second, nothing.
Then Teo murmurs, “He’s in. He’s scanning phone logs…photos…no damage done, simply looking. Like he’s after something specific.” A beat. “Now he’s gone.”
My shoulders slump.
Goddammit.
“Who the fuck was that?” Luc demands.
“I never managed to trace his signal back to him. It’s not the Feds, that’s for sure,” Teo says flatly. “They move like bulls in a china store. This guy here is subtle. Not ultra-skilled, but cautious and smart. A ghost.”
My jaw tics. The air feels charged, like something is coming, just out of reach.
Then all of our phones chime simultaneously.
A message.
I unlock mine and freeze. The screen glows with a single sentence.
You’re not watching close enough.
My fingers tighten around the phone until I hear a crack.
“Teo…” I grind out.
“On it,” Teo says instantly, already hammering keys. “Whoa! Someone sent us our own surveillance footage.”
“From where?” Luc leans in.
Teo narrows his eyes. “The old warehouse. From the last trafficking bust a few weeks ago. I’d pulled our men, but left the outer cameras running. Haven’t checked the feed in weeks since nothing’s happened there…until now.”
The screen flickers. We watch in dead silence as a nondescript white van pulls into the lot.
Two men exit, then pop open the rear. From inside, two others jump out, each carrying a slumped figure over their shoulder like sacks of grain.
Even pixelated, the limpness of those bodies makes my vision swim.
Lily.
She was in that van.
I already have my phone to my ear, summoning all of my captains.