Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
The call comes from Rafael.
I'm not sleeping. I'm sitting, staring at my phone and willing it to ring with news about Isabella, with anything that tells me where she is, and when it finally does ring I answer before the first ring finishes.
"Tell me you found her," I say.
"She's been taken." Rafael's voice is tight and controlled in a way that means he's barely holding it together. "The O'Rourkes grabbed her at the airfield. Took Vittorio too. There was a firefight, our guards are down, and she's gone."
The world stops.
Everything in my chest goes cold and sharp and wrong, and for a second I can't breathe, can't think, can't do anything except feel the panic rising in my throat like bile.
She's gone.
They have her.
The O'Rourkes have Isabella and she's back in that basement, back in that place that almost destroyed her, and I'm not there, I wasn't there to stop it, I wasn't—
No.
Stop.
Breathe.
I force air into my lungs, force the panic down, force myself to be functional because falling apart right now doesn't help her, doesn't save her, doesn't do anything except waste time she doesn't have.
"When?" My voice comes out steadier than I feel.
"A few hours ago. Matteo just got the call. He's—" Rafael pauses. "He's losing his mind, Enzo. He's calling everyone, pulling every resource, trying to find her, but we have nothing. No leads, no intel, no—"
"I know where she is."
Silence.
"What?"
"I know where she is." I'm standing now, already moving, pulling on clothes, my hands shaking but my voice completely calm, completely certain. "The same place they kept her nine years ago. That's where Declan would take her. That's where he always takes people he wants leverage from."
"How do you—"
"Because I'm the one who got her out the first time. I know that basement better than I know my own apartment. I know the layout, the access points, the weak spots in security. I know exactly where she is."
I'm dressed now, grabbing my keys, my wallet, my gun, moving on autopilot while my brain screams at me that she's in that basement right now, terrified, alone, waiting for someone to come, and I need to get to her, I need to—
Stop.
Focus.
One thing at a time.
"I'm going to Matteo. Right now. Tell him I'm coming and tell him not to shoot me when I walk through the door."
"He's not going to want to see you—"
"I don't care what he wants. His sister is in a basement with Declan O'Rourke and I'm the only person who knows how to get her out. He'll see me."
I hang up before Rafael can argue.
I'm in my car in seconds, driving toward the compound with my foot pressed to the floor and my mind threatening to spiral into every nightmare scenario I've been fighting off for days.
What if they hurt her.
What if they already hurt her.
What if Declan remembers her from nine years ago and decides to finish what he started.
What if I'm too late.
No.
I grip the steering wheel tighter and force the thoughts down.
I'm not too late. She's alive. She has to be alive because they need her and because the alternative is not something I can survive thinking about right now.
I run through the warehouse layout in my head instead. Main entrance. Side doors. Loading dock. Basement stairs. The corridor. The cells. The back room where they keep high-value prisoners.
That's where she'll be.
I just need to get there.
I just need to get Matteo to listen long enough to let me help.
The compound gates are open when I arrive, guards everywhere, cars being loaded with weapons, men moving with urgent purpose, I drive straight through and park in front of the main entrance and get out.
My hands are still shaking.
I clench them into fists and force them to stop because I need to be steady, need to be controlled, need to be the version of myself that Matteo will trust to help get his sister back.
Rafael is waiting at the door.
"He's in the armory," he says without preamble. "He knows you're here. He said to bring you down."
"How bad is he?"
"Bad. I've only ever seen him like this once before, for Alessia. He's—" Rafael shakes his head. "Just be careful what you say. He's not rational right now."
Neither am I, I think, but don't say.
I'm barely holding myself together. I'm one wrong thought away from completely losing it. But I can't lose it. Not now. Not when she needs me functional.
We walk through the house quickly, down stairs I know by heart, to the basement level, where the armory is kept, and I can hear Matteo's voice before I see him, sharp and commanding, giving orders to men who are loading rifles and checking ammunition.
He sees me and everything stops.
The entire room goes silent.
Matteo is across the space in three strides, his face dark with fury, and for a second I think he's going to hit me again and I don't care, I'll take it, I'll take anything if it means he listens.
"You have thirty seconds to tell me why I shouldn't kill you right now," he says, his voice low and deadly.
"I know where she is."
The words come out calm and certain and completely at odds with the chaos in my chest, with the way my heart is trying to beat out of my ribs, with the terror that's threatening to drown me if I let it.
"Where?" Luca's desperate voice comes from across the room before Matteo can respond. He's already moving toward the table. "Tell us exactly where."
Matteo’s eyes narrow.
"I know the exact location, the layout, the access points.
I can get you in there and I can get her out.
I'm the one who rescued her nine years ago.
The warehouse in Red Hook. That's where he takes people for leverage.
That's where he took her then and that's where he has her now. Probably not the same cell, but she’s in there.
" I hold his gaze and force my voice to stay level.
"I know that building better than anyone.
I know where the entrances are, where the blind spots are, where he keeps prisoners. I can get you in there fast and clean."
Matteo stares at me and I watch him processing this, watch him running calculations, deciding if he believes me.
Please believe me.
Please let me help.
Please let me get her back because if I can't, if I'm stuck here while she's there, I will lose my mind completely.
"Prove it," he says finally.
I walk to the table in the center of the room, grab a piece of paper and a pen and my hands shake slightly when I start drawing but I force them steady, force myself to focus.
The warehouse takes shape quickly under my hands.
Main entrance. Side doors. Loading dock.
Basement access. Guard positions. Camera angles.
Everything I remember from nine years ago, everything I've revisited in my nightmares for nearly a decade, everything I studied afterward because I needed to know, needed to understand the place that almost killed her.
"Main entrance is heavily monitored," I say, and my voice is steady even though everything inside me is screaming.
"Three guards minimum, rotating shifts. Side entrance here is weaker but has a direct sightline from the office on the second floor.
Loading dock is the best entry point—cover from containers, minimal cameras, one guard usually smoking instead of watching. "
I draw the basement level, and my hand tightens on the pen because I'm drawing the place where she is right now, the place where she's trapped, the place I swore she'd never have to see again.
Focus.
Stay functional.
Get her back.
"Stairs here and here. Both lead down to the same corridor. Holding cells on the left, storage on the right. Declan keeps high-value prisoners in the back cell—furthest from exits, hardest to reach. That's where she'll be."
Matteo is looking at the map with sharp focus.
"Guards in the basement?"
"Two minimum. Could be more now depending on how paranoid he's feeling. The corridor is narrow—single file approach. No cover. Anyone coming down those stairs is exposed for at least ten seconds."
"Exits?"
"Only the stairs unless you want to go through the old ventilation system, which I don't recommend.
It's unstable and loud." I mark another point.
"But there's a service door here that leads to a back alley.
Emergency exit. Declan keeps it locked from the inside but it's old hardware—easy to breach. "
"How do you know all this?" Dante asks from somewhere behind me.
"Because I was tasked to spend two weeks planning the extraction nine years ago. Tasked by you, while you were checking all the other options. I studied every detail of that building. I walked it three times before we went in. I know it."
And because I've gone back to it in my head a thousand times since then. Because when I close my eyes I see that basement. Because Isabella was there once and the thought of her being there again is my nightmare.
"Then we go," Luca says flatly and completely determined. It’s obvious he is just eager to get his sister back. He's looking at the map, not at me. "Right now. We can sort out everything else after she's home."
Matteo is quiet for a long moment, just looking at the map, and I'm trying not to think about what Isabella is doing right now, if she's scared, if she's hurt, if she's—
Stop.
I dig my nails into my palm hard enough to hurt and use the pain to pull myself back.
One thing at a time.
Get Matteo to agree. Get to the warehouse. Get her out.
Everything else can wait.
"Rafael," Matteo says without looking away from me. "Get everyone mobilized. Three teams. One on the loading dock, one on the side entrance as backup, one holding the perimeter. I want this done in under ten minutes from breach to extraction."
Relief hits me so hard I almost stagger.
"On it." Rafael moves immediately, shouting orders.
The room explodes into activity. Men grabbing weapons, checking magazines, pulling on tactical gear, moving with practiced efficiency.
Matteo is still looking at me.