Chapter 30
CHAPTER 30
R onan
My phone vibrated against the nightstand again and I leaned forward to pick it up. I glanced at the screen and saw Bradan’s name.
I answered, bringing the phone to my ear. “Talk.”
“Boss.” Bradan’s voice was frantic, strained, and raw with pain. “It’s… it’s bad.”
I sat up straighter, every nerve in my body going on high alert. “What happened?”
Bradan’s breathing was ragged, like he’d been running for his life. “Finn’s dead,” he said hoarsely. “They… they took Leena. I barely got out alive.”
The words hit me like a fist to the chest. For a moment, the room spun, my grip on the phone tightening until my knuckles ached.
“Start from the beginning,” I said, my voice low and cold, the calm barely masking the storm brewing inside me.
Bradan took a shaky breath, his words tumbling out in a rush. “We were about an hour outside the city. It was quiet—too quiet, I guess. A couple of black sedans started tailing us on the highway. At first, I thought it was nothing. Finn was driving, keeping cool, but they started closing in on us.”
He paused, his voice breaking slightly. “They boxed us in, forced us off the road into a ditch. The car flipped. Finn… he was hurt bad. I don’t even know how I got out. The seatbelt jammed, the airbags—” He cut himself off with a harsh exhale. “When I managed to crawl out, there were already men surrounding the car. Six, maybe eight of them. All armed to the teeth.”
“And Finn?” I asked tightly.
“They dragged him out of the driver’s seat,” Bradan said, his voice trembling. “He was bleeding, barely conscious. He tried to fight, Ronan—he fucking tried. But they shot him. Point-blank. Right in front of me.”
I closed my eyes briefly, my free hand curling into a fist. “And Leena?”
“They pulled her out next,” Bradan said, his voice barely above a whisper. “She was alive. As far as I know, she wasn’t hurt. In fact, she was screaming, kicking, trying to get away. I was pinned down in the wreckage, trying to cover her, but they didn’t care about me. One of them had a gun on me. I thought I was dead.” He paused, his breath hitching. “But they didn’t shoot me. They knocked me out of the way, threw her into one of their cars, and took off. By the time I got to my feet, they were gone.”
I could feel my pulse pounding in my ears, the rage building like a hurricane. “You didn’t recognize any of them?”
“No,” Bradan said miserably. “They were masked, dressed all in black, completely covered. They moved like professionals—fast, like they knew exactly what they were doing.”
A thousand possibilities raced through my mind, each one darker than the last. The way they’d moved, the way they’d targeted Leena—it felt calculated. Deliberate.
And one name kept surfacing in my mind.
Marco Benedetti.
I hadn’t acted against him or his family, but Lorenzo’s death had put a target on my back, and Marco was just arrogant enough to think he could make a move against me. And what better way to hit me where it hurt than by taking my sister?
I forced myself to focus. “Where are you now?”
“Hiding out near the crash site,” Bradan said, his voice still shaky. “I didn’t want to lead them anywhere near you. I’ll send you my location.”
“Do it,” I said quickly. “Stay put. I’ll send someone to pick you up. Don’t fucking move.”
“Understood,” he murmured, the line clicking as he ended the call.
I lowered the phone slowly, my mind racing.
Behind me, Kiera stirred, her soft voice breaking through the storm in my head.
“Ronan?”
I turned to find her sitting up, her green eyes wide with concern.
“What’s wrong?” she asked quietly.
I stood and pulled on my jacket. “Stay here,” I said firmly.
“Ronan, tell me what’s going on,” she insisted, her voice rising with worry. “What happened?”
I stopped in the doorway, my jaw tight. “They have Leena.”
Her face paled, her hand flying to her mouth.
“What? Who has her?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted, though the image of Marco’s smug face burned in the back of my mind. “But I’m going to find out. And when I do, I’ll make them regret ever laying a hand on her.”
I grabbed my coat from the back of the chair, the leather cool against my palm as I slid it on. Kiera stood by the window, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her eyes filled with worry as they followed my every move.
“I need you to stay here,” I said, my voice low but firm.
Her lips parted like she wanted to argue, but the look in my eyes must have stopped her. Instead, she nodded reluctantly, her fingers tightening against her arms.
“I’ll be back,” I added, stepping toward her. I reached out, needing to touch her, letting my hand linger against her cheek for just a moment. “You’re safe here. I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”
She nodded again, her voice barely a whisper. “Be careful, Ronan.”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I turned on my heel and strode toward the door, forcing myself not to look back as I left her standing there, alone but safe.
I made my way down the elevator and out of my building. I stormed into the cool night air, my phone clutched tightly in my fist as my mind raced. Finn was gone, Leena was missing, and the only thing that kept me from losing control was the need to act.
I dialed Seamus first, the call connecting after a single ring.
“Boss?” Seamus’s voice was calm, steady, just what I needed right now.
“Get everyone to O’Malley’s,” I commanded. “Now.”
There was a pause, but no hesitation. “Understood. I’ll spread the word.”
I hung up without another word, dialing Declan next. He answered even faster.
“Ronan?” Declan sounded distracted, the faint clatter of a keyboard in the background.
“Drop whatever you’re doing and get to O’Malley’s,” I ordered. “We’ve got a situation. I need everything you’ve got on Marco Benedetti—every movement, every contact, every whispered rumor, fucking everything.”
“Got it,” Declan said, his tone instantly focused. “I’ll be there.”
I ended the call and slid into the driver’s seat of my car, the engine roaring to life as I pulled onto the street and drove.
By the time I arrived at O’Malley’s, most of the men were already there, their faces grim as they filed into the back room. I entered last, shutting the door behind me and taking my place at the head of the table.
The room was tense, the air thick with unspoken questions. Seamus stood to my left, his arms crossed, while Declan sat at the far end, his laptop open in front of him, fingers flying across the keys. Finn’s seat was empty.
“Finn’s dead,” I said bluntly, cutting through the silence. A ripple of shock ran through the room, but no one spoke. “Leena’s been taken. Bradan barely made it out alive.”
Seamus’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening.
“Who would dare?” he asked.
“We don’t know yet,” I admitted, my voice cold. “But we’re going to find out. Declan, what do you have on Marco?”
Declan looked up from his screen, his face pale, but focused. “So far, nothing unusual. He’s sticking to his usual routine—meetings with his father’s lieutenants, dropping by his clubs, checking in at Benedetti HQ. Nothing that screams ‘I just kidnapped someone’ or anything like that.”
“Could he be covering his tracks?” Seamus asked, his tone skeptical.
“Possibly,” Declan said, shrugging slightly. “But if he is, he’s doing a damn good job of it. There’s no chatter, no changes in his schedule, nothing that raises any red flags.”
I leaned forward, my hands braced on the table. “And what about his men? Any movements outside the ordinary?”
Declan hesitated, glancing back at his screen. “Not yet. I’ve got eyes on the main players—his enforcers, his drivers, even his low-level runners. If they’ve made a move, they’re keeping it quiet.”
“Or they’re using someone else,” Seamus muttered, his arms tightening across his chest. “Someone we’re not watching.”
“That’s not out of the question,” Declan admitted. “But if they are, it’s not coming from Marco’s usual network.”
I sat back, my mind racing. If it wasn’t Marco, then who? But if it was Marco, he was playing this smarter than I’d given him credit for.
“Double your surveillance on Marco,” I said finally, my tone leaving no room for argument. “I want to know what he’s doing, who he’s meeting, and where the fuck he’s going at all times.”
“Done,” Declan said, already typing.
“Seamus,” I continued, turning to him. “Put our men on high alert. I want every safe house secure, every single one of our assets protected. And I want Leena’s name whispered to every informant we’ve got. Someone out there knows where she is.”
Seamus nodded grimly. “Understood.”
The room fell silent again. My gaze swept over the men, their faces hard with determination.
“Whoever took her is going to regret it,” I said, my voice low, but sharp enough to cut. “I don’t care how far we have to go or how much blood we have to spill. We bring her back.”
A murmur of agreement rippled through the room. I looked around the room, meeting the gaze of every one of my men.
“First things first, I’m going to contact Marco,” I said, my voice cutting through the quiet like a blade.
I pulled out my phone, scrolling through my contacts until I landed on Marco’s number. My thumb hovered over the call button for a moment before I pressed it, bringing the phone to my ear. The line rang once. Twice. Three times.
No answer.
I tried again, the knot in my chest tightening with every unanswered ring. On the fourth call, I got a voicemail—his smug, smooth voice telling me to leave a message.
I ended the call without saying a word, my jaw tightening.
“Nothing?” Seamus asked.
“Nothing,” I said coldly, shoving the phone back into my pocket. “He’s dodging me. Whether that means he’s guilty or just covering his ass, I don’t care.”
Declan looked up from his laptop, his fingers still hovering over the keys. “I can try to get a message to him through back channels, but if he’s behind this, he’s going to stonewall us. He won’t admit to anything outright.”
“Try anyway,” I said abruptly. “Use every contact we’ve got. If Marco took her, I want to know what he wants.”
Declan nodded, his fingers flying over the keyboard as he pulled up Marco’s known associates. “It’s going to take time to get a response, assuming we even get one. And if he’s playing this smart, he’ll use intermediaries to cover his tracks.”
“Do it,” I said, my tone leaving no room for argument.
Seamus crossed his arms, his expression grim. “And if he doesn’t bite?”
“Then we escalate.”
If Marco was involved, if he’d taken Leena, this wasn’t just a kidnapping. It was a declaration of war.
I leaned forward, planting my hands on the table as I looked around at the men in the room. “We’re not waiting for him to make the next move. Start reaching out to our allies. Quietly. Let them know what’s happening, but keep it contained. If this turns into an all-out war, I want every resource we’ve got lined up and ready.”
Seamus nodded, his jaw tight. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Declan,” I continued, turning to him. “Dig deeper. If Marco’s not answering, someone else will. His men, his lieutenants—anyone in his circle. Someone knows something, and I want to know who.”
“I’m on it,” Declan said, his eyes never leaving the computer screen.
The room fell silent again. I straightened, my voice cold and firm as I addressed the room. “If Marco’s behind this, he thinks he’s in control. He’s wrong. We find out what he wants, and if he’s touched Leena…”
I didn’t finish the sentence. I didn’t have to. The men around the table knew exactly what would happen next.
I glanced around the room, my gaze sharp. “Get going. I want answers. Now.”
The men dispersed, each of them grim-faced and resolute as they filed out of the room. Seamus lingered, his expression dark.
“You sure it’s Marco?” he asked quietly.
“No,” I admitted, my voice low. “But he’s the most likely suspect. And until I know for sure, I’m preparing for the worst.”
Seamus nodded, clapping a hand on my shoulder before heading out too.
I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself and think clearly. The Benedettis might have been a force to reckon with, but they weren’t the only ones who pulled strings in this city.
I had my allies too.
I reached for my phone and dialed the number of someone I didn’t call often. Someone I avoided calling unless absolutely necessary.
The mayor.
Victor Castellano.
It rang twice before he picked up.
“Ronan,” he said smoothly, his voice calm, almost amused. “I don’t usually take calls this late. What’s the occasion?”
“I’m not in the mood for small talk,” I said, my annoyance clear. “I’ve got a problem, and you’re going to help me fix it.”
“Am I?” he replied, his tone still infuriatingly light. “And here I thought we’d agreed to keep our dealings… infrequent.”
“This isn’t about us,” I snapped. “This is about my sister.”
That got his attention. There was a pause, just long enough to feel heavy.
“Go on,” he said finally, his voice losing some of its amusement.
“She’s been kidnapped,” I said, my words clipped and deliberate. “By someone who thinks they’re untouchable. Someone who doesn’t understand the consequences of messing with an O’Malley.”
“And you think I can help with this?” he asked, his tone carefully neutral.
“You can,” I said bluntly. “You know everything that happens in this city. You know who pulls the strings and who holds the knives. If you don’t know who took her, you know someone who does.”
Victor let out a soft sigh, the sound edged with exasperation.
“Ronan, I sympathize, truly. But this is a delicate time for me. The press is already circling like vultures over the Benedetti situation. If I so much as sneeze in the wrong direction, they’ll pounce.”
“Spare me the excuses,” I growled. “You got elected because of me. Because my family and our allies made sure you had the support you needed to take that office. Don’t pretend you don’t owe me.”
“Is that a threat?” he asked, his voice dropping, the calm veneer cracking just slightly.
“It’s a promise,” I said coldly. “If my sister isn’t returned immediately, there won’t just be a war between the O’Malleys and the Benedettis. I’ll tear this city apart. I’ll burn everything down—including your precious office—if that’s what it takes to get her back.”
The mayor was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again, his tone was sharper. “You’d burn me down too, would you? After all we’ve done for each other?”
“I don’t want to,” I admitted, my voice steady. “But don’t think for a second that I won’t. My sister is everything to me, and if you’re not with me on this, then you’re against me.”
He let out a low, humorless chuckle. “You’ve got a hell of a way with words, O’Malley. But you forget—I’m not just some politician you can push around. You might own the streets, but I own the spotlight. I can make you public enemy number one with a single press conference.”
“And I can make you disappear,” I shot back, my voice calm, but deadly.
The silence on the other end of the line dragged for a beat, tension building like a brewing storm between us. I waited, my grip tight on the phone, knowing the mayor was weighing his options.
“Alright, Ronan,” he said finally. “You’ve got my attention.”
“I didn’t kill Lorenzo,” I said, my voice firm and unwavering. “If I had, I wouldn’t be calling you and trying to convince you otherwise. I don’t play games like that, Victor.”
“Let’s assume for a moment I believe you didn’t kill Lorenzo. If it’s not you, who the hell do you think it is?” he replied.
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” I shot back. “It could be Marco, trying to prove he’s the heir to his father’s throne. Or it could be someone looking to stir the pot—someone who thinks they can play us against each other and come out on top.”
Victor let out a low hum of consideration. “Marco would be the obvious choice. He’s reckless, and with Lorenzo out of the picture, he’s got something to prove. But he’s not stupid enough to make a move this direct without a reason.”
“Unless he thinks he’s untouchable,” I said coldly. “Taking Leena would be his way of sending a message—telling me he’s in charge now.”
He didn’t argue, though his sigh was heavy with doubt. “And what if it’s not him? You’ve got plenty of enemies, Ronan. So did Lorenzo. Someone could be using this chaos to settle old scores.”
“Then you’d better start asking the right questions,” I said, my voice cutting. “You know everyone worth knowing in this city. You’ve got informants, insiders, people who owe you favors. Someone knows who took my sister.”
“And you think they’ll tell me?” he asked skeptically.
“They’ll tell you,” I said firmly. “Because if they don’t, they’ll have to deal with me. And I’m not in the mood to play nice.”
Victor chuckled softly, though there was no humor in it. “You’re a relentless bastard, I’ll give you that.”
“Flattery isn’t going to change the facts,” I said darkly. “I need answers, and I need them now. If Marco’s behind this, fine—I’ll deal with him. But if it’s someone else? Someone trying to start a war in our city? That’s your problem too.”
“My problem?” he repeated, his voice rising slightly. “Let me remind you, O’Malley, that I don’t answer to you. This city’s mine to run.”
“And mine to protect,” I snapped. “We both know your office doesn’t mean a damn thing without the backing of men like me. If this turns into an all-out war, it won’t just be the Benedettis and the O’Malleys who suffer. It’ll be the whole damn city.”
There was a long pause, and when the mayor finally spoke again, his tone was quieter, more measured. “Fine. I’ll start making inquiries. But this stays between us, Ronan. I don’t want this blowing up in my face.”
“It won’t,” I said, my voice hard as steel. “Just make sure you find something useful. And remember—if Leena doesn’t come back, there’s no deal, no alliance, no city . There will just be ashes left blowing in the wind.”
The mayor exhaled sharply. “You’ve made your point. I’ll call you when I have something.”
“Good,” I said, ending the call. If there was anyone in this city who could uncover the truth, it was him.
For now, all I could do was wait. And plan for what came next. I reached for my phone again, my fingers hovering over the screen as I considered my options. There was only one name that came to mind, one connection strong enough to give me the kind of backup I’d need if this turned into a fight for the whole damn city.
I scrolled through my contacts until I found the number I hadn’t called in years.
A number with a Boston area code.
My thumb hovered over the call button, the familiarity of the digits sparking old memories. The man on the other end of this line was powerful in his own right—brutal, calculating, and someone who didn’t owe favors lightly. If I called him, it would come with a price.
But if Leena’s life was on the line, I’d gladly pay it.
I pressed the call button, bringing the phone to my ear as it rang once, twice, three times.
Then a voice came through the line, low and rough, tinged with a faint Irish accent.
“Well, well,” the man drawled. “If it isn’t Ronan O’Malley. Didn’t think I’d ever hear from you again.”