Chapter Fifteen
Dario
I stepped out of the SUV into the night air, heavy with salt and decay from the nearby harbor.
The abandoned warehouse loomed before me, a hulking shadow against the midnight sky.
Matteo and Vittorio flanked me immediately, their movements in tune with mine from years of operating as a unit.
My rage had crystallized into something cold and deadly, a familiar state that had served me well over the years.
Belle was inside those walls. With Vincent Rossi.
The thought sent ice through my veins, but my face remained a mask of calm as we approached the rusted entrance doors.
"Two men at the north corner, another pair by the loading dock," Marcus murmured to us through our ear pieces, his voice barely audible over the distant lapping of waves against the pier.
I grunted as we pushed through the doors, the hinges groaning in protest. The interior stretched before us, vast and hollow, with shadows pooling in the corners where the sparse overhead lights couldn't reach.
Water dripped somewhere in the darkness, a steady metronome counting down to violence.
My Italian leather shoes clicked against the concrete as we advanced, the sound echoing off corroded metal beams overhead.
Vincent Rossi stood at the center of the space, bathed in a cone of sickly yellow light.
Two men in dark suits stood behind him, their hands resting inside their jackets where I knew they carried weapons.
Vincent himself was unarmed – at least visibly.
He never dirtied his own hands if he could help it.
"Dario," he called out, his voice carrying across the emptiness between us. "So prompt. I've always admired your punctuality." The bastard actually smiled like we were old friends.
I didn't respond immediately, my gaze scanning the warehouse methodically.
Four more of his men positioned behind stacked crates to my left.
Another two by a rusted staircase to the right.
All armed. My gaze paused briefly on the upper catwalks where the darkness provided perfect cover for snipers.
Matteo would have already accounted for them and communicated anything he needed to with Marcus or other members of his team with the small microphones we all had in our lapel pins.
Then I saw her.
Belle sat on a metal folding chair at the edge of the light, her wrists bound behind her back, a strip of tape across her mouth.
Her hair hung in tangles around her face, and even from this distance, I could see the red marks where the ropes had chafed her skin raw.
She found me the second we stepped into the area, immediately, widening with a mixture of relief and terror.
Something primal roared inside me. The urge to tear Vincent apart with my bare hands, to make him suffer for each mark on her skin rode me like a compulsion, but emotion was a luxury I couldn't afford. Not until Belle was safe.
"Vincent," I finally acknowledged, stopping twenty feet from him. "I see you've developed a death wish."
He smiled, the expression never reaching his eyes. "Always so dramatic. This is merely a business meeting between equals."
"We are not equals," I replied, my voice dropping lower. "And taking what's mine isn't business. It's suicide."
Vincent's smile widened as he glanced toward Belle.
"She's quite the pretty little thing. I can see why you're fond of her.
" He walked toward her, and I fought to keep my expression neutral as his hand brushed her hair from her face in a mockery of tenderness.
"Quite different from your usual type. Less sophisticated, perhaps, but there's something refreshing about her. .. simplicity."
Belle flinched away from his touch, her eyes burning with a defiance and hatred that made pride swell in my chest, even through my fury. She wasn't broken. My brave girl.
"This is between our families," I said, each word precise as a blade. "She has nothing to do with it."
Vincent turned back to me, tilting his head slightly.
"Oh, but that's where you're wrong, Dario.
She has everything to do with it. The moment you looked at her with something other than indifference, she became the most valuable piece on the board.
" He circled behind Belle's chair, placing his hands on her shoulders.
"The untouchable Dario Luca, finally handing me the power to hurt him. Always knew you’d go out on your terms. Never thought it would be with something as unintentional as growing attached to a little whore. "
I took one measured step forward. Vincent's men tensed, hands reaching for weapons. "Remove your hands from her."
"Or what?" Vincent challenged, his fingers digging into Belle's shoulders. “I could easily snap her neck and there’s not a Goddamned thing you can do about it.”
"Or… I'll remove your hands from your body," I replied, my tone conversational. "Along with your head."
Vincent laughed, the sound echoing off the metal beams. "You're outnumbered, Dario. Did arrogance finally make you careless? Or does this little bartender mean so much that you've lost your edge?"
I allowed myself a small smile. "I'm never careless, Vincent.
Carelessness has always been your weakness.
Not mine." His expression faltered for just a second – long enough to confirm he'd sensed something was off.
His eyes darted to the shadows, suddenly less certain.
"What is it you want?" I asked, drawing his attention back to me.
"Money? Territory? Or just the satisfaction of thinking you've finally gotten under my skin? "
"All of the above," Vincent admitted. "Plus the Westside development properties. And your shipping routes through the harbor."
"Ambitious," I commented. "And for that, I get Belle back unharmed?"
"Eventually," Vincent said, smiling again. "After she's served as collateral while you fulfill your end of our arrangement. Insurance, you understand."
I met Belle's gaze briefly. Her eyes communicated everything her gagged mouth couldn't – fear, yes, but also trust. Complete trust in me. The weight of it settled on my shoulders like a familiar burden, one I'd carry gladly and beg to carry further.
"I understand perfectly," I replied, shifting my weight almost imperceptibly to the balls of my feet. From the corner of my eye, I saw Matteo do the same, his hand sliding inside his jacket with casual grace. Vittorio had drifted slightly to my left, widening our formation.
Vincent must have sensed the shift in energy. His smile stiffened as his eyes flicked between the three of us. "You seem very calm for a man whose woman is at my mercy."
"That's because she isn't," I said simply.
I caught Matteo's gaze. "You've made a critical error in judgment, Vincent," I said, my voice dropping to a near whisper that forced him to lean forward slightly to hear me. "You assumed I came here to negotiate."
Vincent's expression hardened as he finally recognized the danger. "And why did you come, Dario?"
I smiled, feeling the ice in my veins turn to smoldering lava. "To show you what happens when you touch. What's. Mine."
The warehouse exploded into motion. Luca enforcers burst through side entrances, the doors crashing open with synchronized precision.
Gunfire erupted immediately, the muzzle flashes punctuating the dimness like angry lightning.
Vincent's face contorted with rage as he realized the trap, but Matteo was already moving, a blur of deadly efficiency heading straight for Belle.
I had only seconds to reach her before Vincent's men could use her as a shield. Or worse.
I launched myself forward as a bullet whizzed past my ear.
One of Vincent's guards stepped into my path, raising his weapon but he moved too slow.
I drove my fist into his throat before he could aim properly, feeling cartilage collapse under the impact.
He dropped to his knees, gasping, and I was already past him, moving toward the next obstacle.
Through the chaos, I tracked Matteo's progress.
He'd reached Belle, his knife already slicing through her bindings.
A Rossi enforcer lunged toward them, but Matteo caught him with a vicious elbow to the temple that dropped the man instantly.
Belle stumbled to her feet as Matteo yanked the tape from her mouth, then pulled her behind a stack of wooden crates for cover.
"Dario! Three o’clock!" Vittorio's warning cut through the cacophony of gunshots.
I spun, seeing a burly man charging at me with a knife. I sidestepped, grabbed his wrist, and twisted until bone snapped. His scream was cut short as I slammed his head against a metal support beam. Blood splattered across my white shirt, warm and wet against my skin.
The path to Belle was still blocked by two of Vincent's most trusted enforcers. I recognized them from previous encounters—Jenks and Cole, the same men who had taken her from High Tower. The realization sent fresh fury coursing through me.
Cole fired at me, the bullet grazing my shoulder.
The Kevlar vest stopped a second shot from penetrating, but the impact still took my breath.
I didn't slow, though. I stumbled forward, using the momentum to drive forward, tackling him at the waist. We crashed to the ground, and I heard the satisfying crunch of his ribs beneath my weight.
His gun skittered across the concrete floor.
Before he could recover, I drove my fist into his face once, twice, feeling his nose shatter under my knuckles.
His eyes rolled back, but I wasn't finished.
For touching Belle, for frightening her, he deserved more than unconsciousness.