Chapter 33 Gio
GIO
“Stephanie!” My voice cuts through the night as I whisper yell, hoping she’s inside and will be pissed if I startle her for bursting through the door.
I didn’t even think to call ahead, but considering the door’s already ajar, I think it’s too late now.
Still, my stomach sinks when I get no answer. And though I know my brothers are on the way, I can’t wait for backup. Stephanie and Jackson might need me right now.
The hinge groans when I push the front door wide, lifting my gun as I scan the dark entry.
Then, slowly, I step inside.
The house smells wrong—like fear and a chemical I can’t place. Finger resting near the trigger, I sweep the living room, then the kitchen, but both are empty and perfectly pristine.
“Jackson!” I call, my voice more urgent now.
Only silence greets me, and my heartbeat roars in my ears when I think about what that means.
I take the stairs two at a time, quickly clearing the bathroom before swinging the door wide to check Jackson’s room.
His blankets are tossed back, revealing an empty bed.
He’s nowhere to be seen.
My gut twists at the sight of a single sock lying abandoned near the door.
He’s a pretty tidy kid—something I observed early on in my time with him—and he wouldn’t just leave his clothes lying on the floor for no reason.
Heart racing now, I step back out into the hall, listening for any sounds as I approach Stephanie’s bedroom.
Like Jackson’s door, hers is ajar—and I know from experience that she likes it closed when she sleeps.
I brace myself, praying I’ll find both huddled safely in some corner, maybe freaked out but safe.
But when I push the door open with my shoulder, making a quick sweep of the room as I enter, my heart stops in its tracks.
Her bedroom is the worst.
The blankets are twisted, like there was a struggle.
And the air still feels… disturbed.
Her phone sits untouched on her nightstand, the screen showcasing the time and nothing more.
I don’t have to be a detective to know they’re gone. But I check her bathroom anyway—for any sign of where they’ve gone.
I’m already dialing before I’ve made it back to the first floor. Miko answers on the first ring.
“They’re gone,” I say, voice low but hard enough to break glass. “The door was open, and there’s signs of a struggle. But they’re gone. I’m going after them.”
“Gio—”
“Don’t tell me to wait,” I snarl.
“Can you even be sure where they’ve gone? We’re two minutes out. Let’s just discuss this before you take action,” Miko says.
When he became the reasonable one, I don’t know. But I have the overwhelming desire to burn this city to the ground looking for Stephanie and Jackson.
Or at least the Tanaka compound, which is where I’m almost certain I’ll find them.
“Gio!” Miko says more harshly when I don’t answer him.
“Fine. You have two minutes. Then I’m gone.” I hang up before he can say anything else.
My chest feels tight, like my ribs are trying to close in on themselves. I can’t picture Stephanie in someone else’s hands without my vision going red.
And Jackson—Jesus, Jackson is only seven years old.
He’s probably terrified out of his mind right now.
They'd just better be alive—and unharmed. If I find out Kenji’s hurt a single hair on either of their heads, I will burn every Tanaka man alive and dance on their ashes.
Pacing in the front entry impatiently, I note that my brothers make it with several seconds to spare as headlights sweep across the living room when they pull up, tires screeching to a stop against the curb.
A second later, they’re in the doorway—Raf, Sandro, and Miko all moving like a unit.
“Where were they taken from?” Sandro asks, scanning the space.
He’s the best at tracking, so I trust him to find anything I might have missed.
I gesture upstairs. “Her room’s a mess. She clearly put up a fight.”
Sandro doesn’t waste time talking. He crouches near the front step, a flashlight beam sweeping over the grass and driveway, then the front door. “The lock was picked,” he observes, then moves back outside.
I follow him out, a bitter chill settling under my skin as his flashlight finds more destruction of her flower beds.
But he doesn’t linger, his light and eyes scanning with impressive speed.
“There.” He points to a faint impression in the lawn, then another. “Two sets of prints—one heavy, one lighter. One of them was carrying someone—Stephanie would be my guess, by how deep the prints are.”
My stomach plummets as I picture Stephanie enduring the same horrible kidnapping as she did when my father had her taken—someone bludgeoning her over the head, and this time, Jackson there to see it.
I haven’t seen any sign of blood, which is almost encouraging.
But then, why would she need to be carried? Was she unconscious when they took her or too hurt to walk?
The prints lead out to the curb, several muddy ones from where they tromped through the garden.
“Still damp,” Sandro says, dropping to a crouch to run his hands over the mud.
“That means they were taken recently, and that shoe print there is probably Jackson’s—which means he was awake and walking when they took him. ”
I swallow thickly, gratitude surging through me to know he was still alive.
“Looks like their abductors got them into a vehicle of some sort, but there’s not much to go on from here,” Sandro says, straightening so he can peer both ways down the street.
“This was Kenji,” I growl. “Which means we know where they are. I’m going. Now.”
“We know where their main compound is,” Raf corrects. “We don’t know if they took Stephanie and Jackson there. And even if we did, busting in half-cocked won’t do them any favors.”
I whip around to face him. “Do you have a better suggestion?” I demand. “I need to get them back.” My voice cracks on the last word, and I can feel how close I am to breaking. If I lose them now—either of them—I couldn’t live with myself.
This is my fault. Again. I have to fix it.
“Gio—” Raf warns.
“I’m not asking.” My voice is ice. “I will walk into their nest and burn it to the ground if that’s what it takes. But I am not leaving them there. Not even overnight.”
Miko’s already nodding. “I’ve got your back.”
Sandro turns to face me, brushing dirt off his hands. “Me too. But…” He cuts a look at Raf, then back at me. “Raf’s right. You bust in guns blazing, Stephanie could end up dead before you even see her.”
I hate that they’re right. The Yakuza aren’t above using hostages as shields.
“I might have a plan,” Sandro says grimly. “One that gets Stephanie and Jackson out without anyone dying.”
All eyes turn to him.
Sandro’s not usually the strategist of the twins.
He’s normally the one ready to shoot first and ask questions later, so I think we’re all in shock.
But as the silence stretches, the clock keeps ticking down on Stephanie and Jackson.
“Then talk,” I snap.