Chapter 7
Vittorio
Istood behind my desk, checking my watch for the third time in five minutes. Enzo should have been here by now with Sophie. The secure wing was only a ten-minute walk from the medical facility, even moving cautiously.
Twenty minutes had passed since his last radio check-in.
My phone sat silent on the polished mahogany surface, surrounded by files I'd pulled on known associates of Antonio's organization.
With Jonah escaped and potentially feeding intelligence to our enemies, I needed to identify every possible breach in our security.
Names, locations, payment methods—the entire betrayal network had to be mapped and eliminated.
The little bastard had not only touched what was mine—he'd compromised everything we'd built to protect her.
I moved to the window, scanning the estate grounds. Security lights illuminated the manicured lawns, revealing guards in defensive positions. Everything appeared normal, but something felt wrong. The air itself seemed charged with tension.
I started reading reports of Antonio's escalating threats, but my mind kept drifting to Sophie. The way she'd looked at me yesterday—not with fear anymore, but something dangerously close to trust.
This was exactly what I'd sworn never to allow again. After Livia died, I'd buried the part of myself capable of caring. Love was a liability I couldn't afford.
But Sophie… she was supposed to be leverage, nothing more. A chess piece in my war with Antonio. When had that changed? When had her defiance stopped being irritating and started being… attractive?
I slammed the report down, furious at my own weakness. She was Antonio's woman. A complication. A temporary necessity.
So, why did the thought of her being hurt make something cold and violent rise in my chest?
My secure line rang. Finally.
"Enzo, where the hell are you?"
Static crackled, then his voice came through—strained, breathing labored. "Boss… we have a problem."
Ice flooded my veins. "What kind of problem?"
"They took her. Falco's men… they got Sophie."
The phone slipped from my numb fingers, clattering onto the desk. For a moment, the world tilted sideways. Then rage—pure, incandescent fury—exploded through my chest.
I snatched the phone back up. "Where are you?"
"Main foyer. Coming to you now."
"Are you injured?"
"Dizzy. They used some kind of chemical agent. Sophie fought them, but…" His voice broke. "I'm sorry, boss. I failed."
The line went dead.
I burst from my study, shouting orders to guards, coordinating search teams. In the chaos of organizing Sophie's rescue, I never thought about securing what I'd left behind.
I stood frozen, memories crashing over me like a tidal wave. Another phone call. Another failure. Another woman torn from my life by violence I couldn't prevent.
You should have given me what I wanted, Vittorio. Now Livia's dead because of your pride.
Antonio's voice from years ago, cold and triumphant after the explosion that had claimed the only woman I'd ever loved. I'd rebuilt myself after that loss, turned myself into someone who felt nothing, wanted nothing, needed nothing.
But Sophie had shattered that carefully constructed armor. She'd made me feel again—fear, desire, something dangerously close to love. And now she was gone, taken by the same kind of monster who'd destroyed everything good in my life before.
The office door burst open. Enzo stumbled in, his face pale and sweating. Blood trickled from a cut on his forehead, and his usually immaculate suit was torn and stained.
"Tell me everything," I commanded, moving around the desk to steady him.
"We were heading to your office when the lights cut out. Emergency power kicked in, then they hit us with flashbangs and some kind of gas." He wiped blood from his eyes. "Made everything fuzzy, hard to think."
"How many?"
"At least six tactical operatives. Professional-grade equipment. They knew exactly where we'd be, when we'd be there." His jaw clenched. "Jonah."
"What about him?"
"He escaped before the attack. "While I was calling for backup, both he and that fake nurse slipped away. I only realized they were gone when I turned back around." His jaw clenched.The little fucker planned this perfectly."
I sank into my chair, the full scope of the betrayal hitting me. Jonah hadn't just tried to sedate Sophie—he'd fed Falco real-time intelligence about our movements, our routes, our security protocols.
"Sophie fought them," Enzo continued. "Even drugged, she was clawing and kicking. But there were too many."
Pride warred with terror in my chest. Of course, she'd fought. Sophie never surrendered to anything.
"Any idea where they took her?"
"Unknown. By the time I cleared my head, they were gone.
But boss…" He hesitated. “They knew exactly where we'd be, when we'd be there.
Every defensive position, every escape route.
" His jaw clenched. "Jonah must have given them everything before he disappeared—layout information, guard rotations, all of it. "
My hands curled into fists. "He's telling them how to counter our rescue attempt."
Growing up, Antonio had been my protector. When Father's rage turned violent, Antonio would step between us.
"Don't touch him," he'd say, chin raised despite being barely twelve. "He's my responsibility."
Even then, Antonio had seen people as possessions to protect or control.
"Exactly. Whatever we do, they'll be ready for it."
A guard appeared in the doorway. "Sir, there's a package at the front gate. Courier dropped it and left immediately."
My blood turned to ice. "Bring it here. Carefully."
The box was small, plain cardboard with no identifying marks. Inside sat only a burner phone.
It rang the moment I lifted it.
"Ricci." I kept my voice steady despite the rage boiling beneath.
"I have something of yours." Falco's voice oozed through the speaker like poison. "Pretty little redhead. Feisty, just like I was told."
"If you touch her—"
"Already did." He laughed, the sound making my skin crawl. "She's got spirit. I like that in a woman."
I gripped the phone so hard the plastic creaked. "What do you want?"
"Check your messages first. I sent you a little video. Just so you know this is real."
I pulled the phone from my ear, found the video message, and pressed play with trembling fingers.
Sophie appeared on screen, tied to a metal chair in what looked like an abandoned warehouse.
Her lip was split, a bruise forming on her cheekbone.
But her eyes—those green eyes burned with defiance even now.
She stared directly into the camera, chin raised despite the zip ties cutting into her wrists.
In the background, barely visible but unmistakable, stood Jonah. He was speaking to another man, gesturing as if providing detailed information. The traitor had completed his journey from my service to my enemy's.
"Say hello to your boyfriend," Falco's voice came from off-camera.
Sophie's response was to spit blood onto the concrete floor. "Fuck you."
The camera shook as Falco laughed. "See what I mean? Spirited." His hand appeared in frame, grabbing Sophie's jaw roughly. "Tell him what happens if he doesn't pay."
"Don't give this piece of shit anything," Sophie growled, her eyes finding the camera lens.
The video went dark as Falco's hand struck her face.
White-hot rage exploded behind my eyes. I was going to kill him. Slowly. Personally. With my bare hands.
"Now that we understand each other," Falco continued when I put the phone back to my ear, "here's what I want: ten million in cash, plus the shipping routes through New Jersey you've been keeping from Antonio.
He wants you to pay for the privilege of getting her back.
Consider it… compensation for the trouble you've caused. "
Ten million. Double what he might have asked without Jonah's intelligence about my resources.
"You're dead," I said quietly. "You understand that, right? The moment I find you, you're dead."
"Big talk from a man whose woman is bleeding in my warehouse." His voice hardened. "Thanks to your former employee, I know exactly how you operate. Your tactics, your resources, your weaknesses. This time, you don't have the advantage."
Jonah. That treacherous little bastard was probably telling them everything—rescue protocols, backup plans, even personal information about me and Sophie.
"Proof of life," I demanded. "I want to speak to her."
A shuffling sound, then Sophie's voice, strained but clear: "The warehouse district—I can see industrial equipment. There are at least six of them here."
A slap echoed through the phone, followed by Sophie's muffled cry.
"You have six hours," Falco said. "I'll text instructions."
The line went dead.
I stood motionless, the phone clutched in my hand, fury and fear warring inside me. The room had gone silent, my men waiting for orders.
But all I could think about was Livia. How I'd failed to protect her. How my arrogance and pride had cost her life. How I'd sworn never to care about anyone that deeply again.
Yet here I was, my heart hammering against my ribs like it might break free. The same terror. The same helpless rage. The same knowledge that I would tear apart the world to save her.
When had Sophie become more than a strategic asset? When had protecting her become more important than protecting my empire? I thought I knew, but it didn't matter now. What mattered was getting her back.
"Sir?" Enzo ventured. "We should form a strategy. If we give him what he wants—"
"We give him nothing," I cut him off, my voice deadly calm. "Except his own entrails to choke on."
I played the video again, studying every detail. The warehouse had high windows—industrial district, most likely. A glimpse of machinery in the background—possibly one of the abandoned textile factories. And Jonah, selling out everything he'd sworn to protect.
"He's using Jonah's information against us," I said, more to myself than Enzo. "Knows our standard rescue protocols, our equipment, our timing."
"So, what do we do?"
I looked up at him, my decision crystallizing in my mind. "We throw out everything standard. No protocols, no predictable patterns. We go in hard, fast, and brutal."
"Boss, that's—"
"The only way to surprise them." I moved to the wall safe, entering the combination. "Falco thinks he knows how I operate because that traitor told him about the careful, calculated Vittorio Ricci."
I pulled out my personal weapons—a matte black Beretta and the antique switchblade that had belonged to my father.
"But Jonah never met the man who would burn down the world for the woman he loves."
The admission hung in the air between us. Enzo's eyebrows rose slightly, but he was too professional to comment.
"Get every man we have," I ordered. "Every gun. Every contact in the police department. I want eyes on every property Falco has ever been associated with."
As my men mobilized around me, I stared at the frozen image of Sophie's face on the phone screen. At the bruise forming on her cheek. At the defiance in her eyes even as blood trickled from her lip.
She'd tried to warn me twice. Falco was working with someone—Antonio, most likely. My brother using a third party to avoid direct confrontation while keeping his hands clean.
"I failed Livia because I was arrogant," I whispered to myself. "Because I thought my power could shield her from everything. I won't make the same mistake with Sophie."
Enzo approached cautiously. "Boss, we have a lead. One of Falco's cousins owns an abandoned textile factory near the port. Matches the background in the video."
I nodded, already moving toward the door. "Gather the men. Full tactical gear. No police response—this stays within the family."
"And the money? Should we prepare it as a contingency?"
I stopped, turning to face him. "Prepare nothing except body bags for Falco and every man with him."
As I walked out, I touched the inside of my jacket where I kept the only photo of Livia I'd allowed myself to keep. A reminder of what happened when I let someone matter too much.
But Sophie wasn't Livia. And I wasn't the same man I'd been then.
I lost Livia to my pride," I murmured. "I won't lose Sophie to my fear.
The war was coming. And this time, I would show no mercy.