Chapter 32
Marco
I walk into Vito's penthouse. My knuckles are bruised, my patience is shot, but at least we have results.
We found Elio. The bastard was hiding in a rat-hole apartment in Queens, and he didn't come quietly. Now he's secured in the basement of our warehouse, zip-tied to a chair, waiting for us to decide what to do with him.
Before that, Vito and I paid a visit to Elena's cafe.
The barista—the one who's been passing messages between Elena and her contacts—needed some persuasion to explain how the system worked.
A coding computer in the back room. Specific drink orders trigger specific messages.
Responses come back written on the interior of the food bags.
Brilliant, actually. Simple but effective.
The barista is still breathing, though the bruises on his face and ribs will remind him not to fuck with us again. He gave us everything we needed—names, protocols, the whole operation.
After securing Elio, we decided to head back here to get Rafa to search for anything that might help us understand the Irish operation better.
The identities of the attackers from the night of the ambush came back—low-level Irish soldiers, nobodies we didn't recognize.
But the confirmation is what matters. The Costellos are escalating. No more warnings. Now it's by force.
I'm walking down the hallway toward Vito's office to debrief when my phone rings.
Dante's name flashes on the screen.
Something in my gut twists. He should be with Elena.
"Talk to me," I answer, already quickening my pace.
"Marco—" Dante's voice is strained, breathing labored. "They took her. Tony—he was working for them. Had men waiting—"
"Where?" I'm running now.
"Shot—I'm hit—Luca's down—" I hear sirens in the background. "Black van. Heading east—"
"Stay with me, Dante. Where exactly are you?"
"Her apartment. They just—fuck—they just left. Maybe two minutes ago."
I burst into Vito's office without knocking. He looks up sharply from his desk.
"Get Rafa. Now. Elena's been taken." Into the phone: "Dante, help is coming. Stay on the line."
Vito's already dialing. "Ren, get medical to Elena's apartment. Dante and Luca are down. Then get to my office with Rafa. Now."
Within three minutes, Rafa rushes in with his laptop. "What do we have?"
"Black van, heading east from Elena's apartment. Left maybe five minutes ago." I'm pacing, phone still to my ear. I can hear Dante's ragged breathing. "Tony's the traitor. He took her."
Rafa's fingers fly across the keyboard. "Pulling traffic cameras now... got it. Black van, no plates. Heading toward the East River." He types faster. "Last ping on the route is... here. Then it disappears."
"What's in that area?" Vito demands.
"Industrial zone. Mostly abandoned." Rafa zooms in on the map. "Four large warehouses. Two of them are owned by shell companies we've traced back to Irish operations in the past."
"She's in one of those," I say immediately. "We need to move. Now."
"Marco—" Vito starts.
"Now, Vito!" My voice is raw. "They have a head start. Every second we waste—"
"Is a second we need to do this right." Vito stands. "Rafa, can you get eyes on those warehouses?"
"Working on it. Hacking into city surveillance now... shit, most of the cameras in that area are dead. Either broken or disabled."
"Of course they are," I mutter. Into the phone: "Dante, you still with me?"
"Yeah," he gasps. "Medical just arrived. They're loading me up. Marco—I'm sorry. I should have—"
"Not your fault. Tony played all of us." I grip the phone tighter. "You did good calling it in immediately. Rest now."
The line goes dead as the paramedics take over.
I turn back to Rafa. "Which two warehouses have Irish connections?"
He highlights them on the map. "This one was purchased six months ago through a Dublin-based LLC. This one's been on our radar for a year—suspected Costello meeting location but we've never confirmed."
"Then we hit both simultaneously," I say. "Split into two teams—"
"No." Vito's voice is firm. "We don't have the manpower to hit both at once, not if we want to do this right. And walking into the wrong location alerts them that we're coming."
"So what? We sit here and guess?" Frustration explodes out of me. "While Elena is—"
"While Elena is alive and needs us to be smart." Vito moves to the map. "Rafa, pull up everything we have on both locations. Utility usage, recent activity, anything."
Rafa types rapidly. "The first warehouse—nothing. No power usage, no water, no activity for months. It's completely dead."
"And the second?"
"Power's been on for the last three days. Not much, but consistent. Someone's there."
"That's our target." Vito looks at me. "But we can't just storm in. This is a trap, Marco. They took Elena to draw us out. Ronan wants us to come in hot and stupid."
"I don't care what he wants. I care about getting her back."
"And we will. But we do it my way." Vito's voice carries the weight of command. "We have leverage Ronan doesn't know about. Elio is downstairs. We use him to arrange a meeting. Exchange him for Elena."
"Ronan won't go for that—"
"He will. Because Elio is what he's wanted all along. Elena was just the easier target to grab." Vito pulls out his phone. "Ren, bring Elio up. Time for him to be useful."
I want to argue. Want to grab weapons and go in blazing. But Vito's right—charging in without a plan gets Elena killed.
"How long will this take?" I ask through gritted teeth.
"As long as it takes to do it right." Vito meets my eyes. "I know what you're feeling, Marco. I know you want to tear that building apart brick by brick. But Elena needs us smart, not reckless."
"Every second she's with them—"
"Is another second she's fighting to survive. And she will survive. Because she's strong, and because she knows we're coming for her." Vito places a hand on my shoulder. "Have faith in your girl. She's not going to break easily."
The words settle something in my chest. He's right. Elena is strong. She's a fighter. She'll hold on.
"What do you need me to do?" I ask.
"Go have a conversation with Elio. Make him understand that calling Ronan and arranging this exchange is the only way he survives this. That if anything happens to Elena because he refuses to cooperate..." Vito's smile is predatory. "Well, the Irish will seem like mercy."
I nod and head for the door.
"Marco?" Vito calls after me. "When we get her back—and we will get her back—she's going to need you. So stay sharp. Stay focused. Don't let rage make you sloppy."
"I won't."
As I head downstairs, one thought burns through my mind: I'm coming for you, little fox. Hold on just a little longer.