Chapter 20 NICO
NICO
The teacher’s words are still echoing when I realize Izzy isn’t beside me anymore.
I look around the crowd automatically, expecting to see her a few feet away, pale but standing. Instead I see teachers, parents, two policemen asking questions—and no Izzy.
My stomach tightens.
“Izzy?” I call.
No answer.
I scan the school entrance again. The sidewalk. The parking lot.
Nothing.
Cold realization creeps in.
I turn sharply. “Leone.”
He steps closer immediately. “Boss.”
“Izzy’s gone.”
His eyes narrow.
“She was just here,” I say. “Find her. She’s somewhere around the school. Parking lot, street, alley—everywhere.”
Leone nods once and immediately starts barking orders into his phone.
I step away from the crowd and start searching myself, moving toward the back lot. Every second that passes feels wrong.
I should have kept her beside me. Should have been watching her instead of the teachers. I know better than this.
This is my world. Dark, cold, ruthless. I led her into it.
And then I left her alone.
My phone buzzes.
Unknown number.
I answer immediately. It’s Pavlov. When the call ends and at loss on what to do, I throw a punch at the wall. Pain explodes up my arm. Skin splits across my knuckles.
“Boss!” Leone shouts, but I don’t listen.
I punch the wall again. And again. Each impact sends another sharp jolt through my hand, grounding me in something solid.
I let this happen.
I dragged them into my world and pretended distance would protect them.
My son is in the hands of my enemies.
The woman I love is tied up in a warehouse because of me.
My chest burns with rage so violent it feels like it might rip me open.
But rage alone won’t save them.
Control will.
I lower my hand slowly, breathing through the pain.
“This ends today,” I snarl.
Vladimir Pavlov made a mistake. If he thinks I’m walking into that warehouse to die quietly, he has no idea who he’s dealing with.
I will burn his entire empire to the ground before I let him touch my family.
Leone’s eyes flick to my bleeding hand. “What now?”
“Set a perimeter around the docks,” I tell him. “Wide. I don’t want anyone close enough to spook them.”
He nods immediately. “And you?”
“I’m going inside.”
Leone starts to protest. “Boss, you can’t—”
I cut him off with a look.
Before Leone can say anything else, I pull out my phone and open the group line.
It rings twice before the first voice comes through.
“Something wrong, Neri?” Matteo asks.
Riccardo joins a second later. Then Giovanni. Then Luca.
No one wastes time asking why I pulled them all in at once. In our world, a call like this means something has already gone very wrong.
“Pavlov has them,” I say. “My woman and my son.”
Silence drops across the line. None of my fellow Dons knew I had a family. I can feel them taking it in, realizing what this means.
The last time the five of us stood on the edge of something like this was when the Borough War almost tore the city apart. Back then our families were fighting each other.
Now we’re the ones holding the line.
“Where?” Luca asks.
“Warehouse seventeen. South docks.”
I hear someone exhale sharply. Giovanni, I think.
“He contacted you himself?” Riccardo asks.
“Yes.”
“And he wants you alone,” Matteo says, already understanding the play.
For a moment I can almost feel them thinking through the same thing I am: how fragile the peace we built actually is. One wrong move tonight and the Pavlovs won’t just take my family. They’ll shatter the balance we fought for.
“This isn’t just my problem,” I say. “This is an attack on a Don’s family.”
Giovanni speaks first. His voice has lost its usual dry humor.
“Then it’s an attack on all of us.”
Matteo’s voice follows, colder. “Pavlov just declared war.”
“Yes,” I say. “Your forces will be in charge of the perimeter. Each one of you takes a side.”
“And you?” Luca asks.
“I go in.”
“No,” Giovanni says immediately. “That’s suicide.”
“It’s my choice,” I growl. “And you will either respect it or drop out of this.” I drag in a breath. “I won’t blame you if you don’t want to fight for my family. It’s my business.”
“It’s not,” Matteo says. “It’s everyone’s.”
“Agreed,” Luca says.
I’m not the kind of man who gets emotional. But right now, alongside the rage and the guilt and the terror for my woman and child, another feeling swells deep inside me.
Pride.
For everything the five of us have built.
“What do you need from us?” Riccardo asks.
“Exits,” I say. “Every path Pavlov could use to move them. I want them surrounded without knowing they’re surrounded.”
Giovanni’s voice comes through next. “And when the time comes?”
“Then we close the net.” My voice hardens. “But listen. No heroics. No gunfire unless I give the word. If Pavlov hears chaos, Izzy dies first.”
I’m asking a lot of them. To sideline themselves for the greater good. Dons don’t follow—they lead. Each one of these men is as alpha as I am and stubborn enough to want to call the shots.
But they’re also smart, capable soldiers. They know what it means to fight. To sacrifice for the good of the pack.
Those skills are what I’m banking on.
No one speaks for a moment. Then Luca says quietly, “Understood.”
Riccardo follows. “You’ll have my men watching the water.”
“Brooklyn routes are covered,” Matteo says.
Giovanni exhales slowly. “Staten Island access points are mine.”
For the first time since the call started, I feel something solid under my feet again. Not hope. Something harder than that.
Unity.