CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
conall
We had very little to go on. We had a video of Sean and Francesca entering the alley behind the club, and just as they were about to get to the car, they slipped out of the camera’s view. We could only see Sean moving her toward the passenger side, and then there was nothing.
The attack from Vallone had caught us off guard, but we weren’t unprepared. What surprised us was that it was a ruse. The assault at the front of the club was deliberate, serving a specific purpose. That was the premise we operated under. The alleyway was guarded, but both guards had been eliminated. Sean and Francesca had both been taken, and the vehicle was left with its doors open, idling as Sean had left it.
Remo paced, kicking chair legs and growling at the men who crossed his path. He had been on a collection run for Angelo when the attack occurred and had met us here, practically foaming at the mouth about his sister’s abduction. Eventually, Angelo attempted to speak with him, only to be met with a scowl and a reprimand. I didn’t blame him. His rage mirrored my own.
“Fuck!”
I slammed my fist on the table in sheer frustration, uncaring as everything tumbled to the floor in disarray. My entire world had shattered. Nothing was helping to piece it back together. “Is there anything? Do we have anything?”
The question was directed at anyone nearby. My anguish poured directly from my heart. The tracker I had given Francesca had been ripped off, either by accident or deliberately, and left in the gravel by the car. It was a lesson that something so fragile wasn’t a good idea.
We gathered at my Vinegar Hill place, along with my friends and their top soldiers, to determine where they had been taken. However, we had no clues to guide us, other than being certain that most of the attackers were Vallone’s men.
“Lev says he has two alive—mostly. He’ll be here shortly so we can try to get some answers,”
Maxim reported. We’d already examined some of the dead at the club before we left, but we hadn’t left any alive that we knew of.
“Where did he find them?”
Ilias paused his work on his laptop. He had been trying to locate properties owned by Vallone.
“Two blocks over. Wounded but hiding,”
Maxim sneered.
“Okay. We’ll get them to give us something.”
Remo pounded one fist into his other palm, gritting his teeth. “They’ll talk.”
They would indeed talk. I didn’t mind cutting it out of them one word at a time. They’d give us every drop of information they had.
“You think it was Vallone who took her? Or Cosimo?”
Ilias asked.
“I don’t know.”
My hand swept across the stubble on my chin again. “It makes more sense that it’s Cosimo. Why would Vallone snatch her? But it was Vallone’s men.”
It just didn’t add up.
The phone vibrated in my palm, sharp and insistent. I barely had time to bark a command for silence before answering.
“Hello?”
"Conall—" Her voice was a whisper, but I could hear the panic and exhaustion woven through it. “Can you come get us?”
"Francesca?" My voice was hoarse and desperate, the single word catching in my throat as I turned away from the table where the others were gathered, maps and burner phones strewn before them.
A cold, vicious dread coiled in my stomach. Please let her be alright. "Where are you?”
"Warehouse by the docks. Hurry! Sean needs help. He’s been shot."
My heart pounded against my ribs. “Okay, baby. We’re coming. Does Sean have his phone? Can you turn it on?”
My heart pounded against my ribs, the sensation too erratic. I clenched my fist, grounding myself in the press of my nails against my palm.
“I’ve got it. I’ve got it,”
Ilias said, looking up from his computer. “Let’s go.”
“We’re coming, baby. We’re on our way.”
Finn swore as he grabbed his gun. “Is she okay?”
“We’ll see. We move in fast and hard. No hesitation.”
I tried to suppress the emotions that surged in my throat like bile, choking me from the inside out at the thought of Francesca being hurt. Even as her brothers asked me questions in the car, eager to overanalyze every word she spoke, I focused on the mission — getting to my wife. Kill everyone who touched her. Burn it all down.
We poured out of the room like a war party, the tension thick and suffocating. The drive to the docks blurred into a haze of red lights flashing by and tires screeching against asphalt. I could barely hear Finn and Paddy strategizing beside me. I was focused on one thing: getting to Francesca.
As soon as we arrived at the warehouse, I opened the car door before the engine had completely stopped. With my gun drawn, I moved with lethal intent while the others fanned out behind me. The warehouse doors stood ajar, one swaying lopsidedly from a broken hinge. The smell of blood hit me first, thick and metallic. Then, I saw them.
Francesca sat slumped on the floor next to Sean, her hands pressed against his chest, his shirt open. My heart stuttered for a moment. She knelt shivering on the floor in her panties and bra, her dress folded to his wound, her weight pressed against her hands where they soaked the material through with blood.
Four counts in… hold… and three counts out. Breathe.
Cosimo Oliveto’s body lay crumpled on the far side of the room, blood pooling around his head. Remo kicked him as he moved through the room and spat on the body. “Coglione,”
he said. Fucker.
"Francesca—are you hurt?”
I unbuckled my weapons harness and pulled my shirt off, sliding it over her.
She shook her head, her eyes locked on Sean’s face. I exhaled sharply, adrenaline still pounding through me. Behind me, Finn and Paddy secured the area, checking corners for any lingering threats.
“It was a through and through, but he’s lost a lot of blood.”
Francesca’s voice sounded mechanical, her eyes still fixed on Sean.
I lifted Francesca’s chin, making her look at me. “We’re going home. Now. Let Finn take over.”
“Sorella?”
Angelo’s voice was tight and controlled, yet I could sense the worry beneath it. “What the hell happened?”
It was the question on everyone’s mind. We knew they had been ambushed and then taken to this secondary location. Sean’s weapon was missing, so who had killed Cosimo?
“We’ll discuss it later. Let’s concentrate on one thing at a time,”
Ilias grumbled. Angelo exhaled sharply, opting not to engage in an argument.
I turned to Finn. “Help Sean get up. We’re moving.”
Sean groaned but managed to wrap an arm around Finn. I lifted Francesca into my arms and held her close as we exited the warehouse. The night air was sharp against my skin, but she hardly reacted, still driven by adrenaline and shock.
The car idled with its engine running. I opened the door and helped her inside. Sean groaned as Finn and Paddy settled him in. He looked like absolute shit. Exactly as expected after being beaten and then shot. I was surprised he’d been left alive if I were being honest. Surprised my wife was alive.
Grateful.
Beyond grateful.
I pulled Francesca close, pressing a kiss to her hair. “Thank God I found you.”
She trembled against me, fingers curling into my shirt. I counted her breaths again. Matched them to mine.
Four counts in… hold… three counts out.
Breathe.