Chapter 36 #2
"I'm going with you," I say before he can speak.
"No."
"Yes. I know the layout. I know the blind spots. I know where she'll be. You need me there."
"I don't need—"
"Let him come." Luca's voice is quiet but final. "He knows that building. We don't." He looks at Matteo directly. "Isabella is my sister too and she’s what matters. Not this. Enough with this, Matteo."
Something flickers across his face.
"This doesn't change anything between us," he says quietly. "You help me get her back and we're still done. You understand that?"
"I understand."
"You're not forgiven. You're not welcomed back. This is one operation and then you're gone."
"I know."
"And if you do anything that puts her in more danger, if you make one wrong move, I will put a bullet in you myself."
"I wouldn't expect anything less."
He stares at me for another long moment and then nods once.
"Get a vest and a weapon. You're with my team. We leave in five minutes."
I move to the equipment wall and start gearing up, pulling on a tactical vest, checking a rifle, loading magazines with mechanical precision even though my hands want to shake, even though my mind wants to spiral into what-ifs and worst-case scenarios.
I force it all down.
I force myself to breathe.
I force myself to be the version of me that can do this, that can get her back, that can walk into that basement and bring her out alive.
Rafael appears beside me.
"You sure about this?" he asks quietly.
"I've never been surer of anything."
"If she's not there—if Declan moved her somewhere else—"
"He didn't. He's there. She's there." I check the rifle sight and my voice is completely certain even though inside I'm screaming. "I can feel it."
"That's not exactly scientific—"
"I don't need scientific. I need right. And I'm right about this."
I have to be right about this.
Because if I'm wrong, if she's somewhere else, if I just wasted time we don't have, I will never forgive myself.
He doesn't argue, just helps me adjust the vest and checks my magazines.
Across the room, Matteo is giving final instructions to the team leaders, his voice calm and controlled and deadly.
"This is a rescue operation with extreme prejudice," he's saying. "Anyone who gets between us and Isabella goes down. No hesitation. No mercy. We get in, we get her, we get out. Anyone who wants to surrender can do it after we have her safe. Clear?"
A chorus of affirmatives.
"Good. Move out."
We head for the vehicles and I end up in the same SUV as Matteo, Dante driving, Rafael in the passenger seat, Luca in the backseat with me and the tension is thick enough to cut.
No one speaks.
I'm grateful for the silence because it means I can focus on breathing, on staying present, on not letting my mind run through every nightmare scenario of what might be happening to her right now.
She's strong.
She survived this once before.
She'll survive it again.
I just need to get to her.
The drive to Red Hook takes twenty minutes and I spend all of them visualizing the approach, running through scenarios, preparing for every possibility, and forcing down the panic every time it tries to rise.
We're three blocks out when Matteo's phone buzzes.
He looks at it and his face goes dark.
"What?" Rafael asks.
"Message from Declan. Photo." He turns the phone so we can see.
It's Isabella.
Sitting against a concrete wall with her hands zip-tied in front of her, her face bruised, her eyes defiant, and behind her the familiar walls I remember from nine years ago, the same concrete, the same exposed pipes.
My vision tunnels.
She's hurt.
They hurt her.
Her face is bruised and she's restrained and she's in that place and I need to get her out right now, I need to—
Breathe.
I force air into my lungs and clench my fists hard enough that my nails bite into my palms and use the pain to pull myself back from the edge.
"That's the basement," I say, and my voice is steady even though I'm barely holding on. "Back cell. Exactly where I said she'd be."
Matteo looks at me and something in his expression shifts.
Belief.
He believes me now.
"Two minutes out," Dante says from the front.
"Everyone knows their positions?" Matteo asks into the radio.
Confirmations come back from all three teams.
"On my signal," Matteo says. "We go in fast and we go in hard. No one fires unless fired upon but the second someone raises a weapon, you put them down. Our priority is getting Isabella out alive. Everything else is secondary."
The warehouse appears ahead, exactly as I remember it, dark and industrial and wrong, and the sight of it makes something tighten in my chest.
She's in there.
Right now.
Waiting.
I'm coming, Isabella. I'm coming. Just hold on.
We park two blocks away and move on foot, splitting into teams, each one heading for their assigned entry point.
I'm with Matteo's team heading for the loading dock. Luca falls in behind us without a word.
We move in silence, weapons ready, communicating with hand signals, and when we reach the dock, I signal for everyone to hold.
One guard. Just like I said. Smoking a cigarette with his rifle leaning against the wall three feet away.
Matteo looks at me and I nod.
He signals to Dante, who moves forward with lethal silence and thirty seconds later the guard is on the ground, unconscious or dead, I don't know which and I don't care.
We're inside.
The warehouse is dark and quiet and smells like rust and old fear and I'm moving on instinct now, muscle memory from nine years ago, leading them through the maze of containers and equipment toward the basement stairs.
Every step gets me closer to her.
Every step takes me closer to getting her out.
My heart is racing but my hands are steady and my mind is clear because I've forced it to be, because falling apart happens after she's safe, not before.
We reach the door.
I hold up my hand and everyone stops.
"Two flights down," I whisper. "Narrow corridor at the bottom. Cells on the left. She'll be in the back one. Probably two guards minimum between us and her."
"How do you want to do this?" Matteo asks quietly.
"Fast and quiet until we can't be quiet anymore. Then overwhelming force."
He nods. "Lead the way."
I open the door and start down.
I'm coming, Isabella.
Hold on.
I'm coming.