Chapter 12
Lionetti
I don’t walk into anger.
I come in already there.
The door slams open hard enough to rattle the walls, and the first thing my hand touches goes flying. Glass shatters against the wall. Then another. Then something heavier. It doesn’t matter what it is—I just need to hear it break.
“Who the fuck were they?!”
No one answers.
Good.
Because if someone says the wrong thing right now, I’ll put them through the floor.
I pace once, twice, dragging a hand down my face, trying to rein it in—but it’s not working. It’s building.
“They don’t just walk into my operation,” I snap, turning back on them. “They don’t just fucking hit my auction and make it out breathing.”
Another crash. Metal this time. A tray skids across the floor.
Still not enough.
“I want answers,” I bite out. “Now.”
Behind me, I hear Jenna moving fast.
“I need you to calm down—”
I turn on her so quick she stops mid-step.
“Calm down?” My voice drops, dangerous now. “They just tore through my men, my security, my fucking operation—and you want me to calm down?”
Her jaw tightens, but she doesn’t fold.
“I want you thinking,” she shoots back. “Because right now, you’re not.”
That almost makes me smile.
Almost.
“They knew where to be,” I say, pointing toward the door. “They knew exactly when to move. That wasn’t luck.”
That was inside.
That was planned.
My eyes shift past her.
Izzy.
Slumped on the couch, blood soaked through his shoulder, jaw clenched while one of my men works on him.
“Sit the fuck still,” the medic mutters, pressing into the wound.
Izzy hisses but doesn’t fight it. “Just do it.”
Jenna’s right there in a second.
“Watch it,” she snaps. “Don’t make it worse.”
“It’s a clean pass-through,” the medic says. “He’s not dying.”
That doesn’t calm her.
She hovers anyway.
I don’t stay on it long.
Not my focus.
“Cesario.”
He steps forward immediately, already working, tablet in hand.
“We’re pulling everything,” he says. “Identifying who we lost, who made it out, what’s still in play.”
“How many?” I cut in.
A beat.
“Too many.”
My jaw tightens.
“That’s not a number.”
“It’s the truth,” he says, steady. “They hit us hard. Whoever they were—they knew how to move.”
Yeah.
I saw that.
“Talk,” I say. “What the fuck do we still have?”
“Most of the product was already separated before the breach,” he says quickly. “High-value assets were secured.”
Good.
At least something didn’t go to shit.
“But we lost control of the floor,” he adds. “Some girls scattered in the chaos. We’re still confirming who’s missing.”
I take a slow step toward him.
“That’s not good enough.”
“It’s what we have right now.”
I stop right in front of him.
“Then fix it.”
A second of silence.
Then—
“Working on it.”
Jenna cuts in before it goes further.
“This wasn’t random,” she says, sharp, focused. “They were after something.”
“They were after me,” I snap.
Because that’s the only thing that makes sense.
Her eyes narrow.
“Or someone connected to you.”
That lands.
Because it fits too fucking well.
I don’t say it yet.
Not out loud.
Behind her, Izzy shifts again, letting out a low breath as the medic tightens the wrap.
Jenna glances back, softer this time. “Stay still.”
“I said I’m fine,” he mutters.
He’s not.
But that’s not the problem right now.
“Whoever they are,” I say, pulling it back, “they had eyes on us. That means one of two things—either they’ve been watching for a while…”
I pause.
“…or someone talked.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Cesario looks up. “You think we’ve got a rat?”
“I think this didn’t happen by accident,” I say, colder now. “Not with that kind of timing. Not with that kind of access.”
Jenna crosses her arms, thinking fast.
“If there’s a leak,” she says, “we’ll find it.”
I look at her.
I believe that.
Because she doesn’t miss things.
Not like this.
I turn, pacing again, slower now. Controlled.
“They hit my house,” I say. “They hit my auction. They cost me men, product, time.”
Each word lands heavier than the last.
“That means they think they can touch me.”
No one speaks.
Good.
Because they should feel that.
I stop, turning back to them, everything in me settling into something colder. Sharper.
“Lock everything the fuck down,” I order. “Routes, safe houses, communications—I don’t want a single gap left by morning.”
Cesario nods. “Already moving on it.”
“Double internal checks,” I add. “Anyone out of place, anyone acting off—I want names.”
“Done.”
My eyes land on Jenna.
“And you—find out who the fuck thought this was a good idea.”
Her expression hardens. “I will.”
I believe that too.
I turn toward the window, the city stretched out in front of me, calm like nothing just happened.
“They wanted my attention,” I say quietly.
My reflection stares back at me.
Calm.
Controlled.
Dead calm.
“They’ve got it.”
And this time—
There’s no yelling.
No breaking.
Just certainty.
Because whoever walked into my world tonight—
Just started a war they’re not walking out of.
Jenna.
Everything feels too fucking loud.
The glass. The shouting. The movement. The smell of blood still sitting heavy in the air like it followed us back here and refuses to leave.
I can’t think straight.
I need to.
But every time I try, my eyes go right back to him.
“Izzy—don’t fucking move,” I snap, my voice tighter than I want it to be.
He’s sitting there, jaw clenched, shoulder wrapped but still bleeding through in spots. The medic just finished, but I don’t trust it. I don’t trust anything right now.
“I said I’m fine,” he mutters.
“You’re not fine,” I shoot back, stepping closer, my hands hovering like I want to touch him but don’t know where the hell to even start. “You got shot.”
“It’s a shoulder, Jenna,” he says, exhaling. “I’m not dying.”
That’s not the point.
None of this is the point.
“Yeah? Because it didn’t fucking look like that back there,” I snap, my voice rising before I can stop it.
He doesn’t answer.
Good.
Because I don’t have the patience for his calm right now.
I turn away, dragging my hands through my hair, trying to piece this shit together and coming up with nothing but noise.
“What the fuck just happened?” I say, more to the room than anyone.
No one answers.
Of course they don’t.
Because nobody fucking knows.
I spin back toward Cesario, who’s already knee-deep in whatever damage control he can scrape together.
“Start talking,” I demand. “Who the hell were they?”
“We’re still identifying—” he starts.
“That’s not an answer,” I cut in sharply. “You had security. You had eyes everywhere. So how the fuck does a team like that just walk in and tear everything apart?”
His jaw tightens slightly, but he doesn’t lose his composure.
“They weren’t random,” he says. “They knew the layout. Knew where to hit.”
“No shit,” I snap. “So how?”
That’s the question.
The only one that matters right now.
Because this doesn’t happen unless something is already broken.
“Could be surveillance,” he says. “Could be someone tracking movement. We’re looking at all of it.”
“Look harder,” I bite out.
Because I’m not standing here guessing.
Not with everything we just lost.
“And the girls?” I push. “Tell me we didn’t just lose product on top of everything else.”
Cesario hesitates.
Just for a second.
That’s all it takes.
My stomach drops.
“What?” I demand, stepping closer. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“We’re still confirming,” he says carefully. “But during the breach… some of them scattered.”
“Scattered?” I repeat, my voice going cold. “You lost them?”
“Not all of them,” he says quickly. “But a few—yeah. We don’t have eyes on them yet.”
Unbelievable.
I let out a sharp, humorless laugh, pacing away from him, my pulse pounding in my ears.
“This is a fucking disaster,” I mutter.
No—worse than that.
This is exposure.
This is weakness.
This is exactly what people wait for.
I stop pacing.
Turn back.
“What about her?” I ask.
The room stills just slightly.
Cesario looks at me.
Knows exactly who I mean.
“Becca,” I say, sharper now. “Where the fuck is she?”
Another pause.
Longer this time.
My chest tightens.
“No,” I say immediately, shaking my head. “No, don’t do that—don’t give me that look. Where is she?”
Cesario exhales slowly.
“We didn’t recover her at the scene.”
Everything in me goes still.
“…what?”
“She’s not accounted for,” he says. “She was there before the breach. After—she’s gone.”
Gone.
Gone?
“No,” I snap, shaking my head harder now. “No, that’s not possible. She was secured—she was supposed to be—”
“She wasn’t moved yet,” he cuts in. “Not before the breach hit.”
Which means—
Someone took her.
My stomach twists violently.
“Who?” I demand. “Who the fuck has her?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Not good enough.
Not even close.
“That was my call,” I snap, anger surging back stronger, sharper. “She was mine. That was my play—my leverage—”
“And now she’s gone,” Cesario says, blunt.
That sets me off.
“Don’t you fucking say it like that,” I snap, stepping toward him. “Fix it.”
“We’re trying—”
“No,” I cut in. “You’re going to do more than try. You’re going to find out who took her and where the fuck they went.”
Because if she’s out there—
If someone else has her—
That changes everything.
Everything.
Behind me, I hear movement.
Izzy.
“You’re sure she’s gone?” he asks, his voice low.
Too low.
I turn slowly.
And there it is.
That look. That concern. For her.
Something ugly rises in my chest so fast it almost chokes me.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I ask, my voice dropping.
He looks at me, confused.
“I’m just asking—”
“No,” I cut in, stepping closer. “You’re not just asking. You sound fucking worried.”
“I am worried,” he says, like it’s obvious. “If she’s out there—”
My laugh is sharp and bitter.
“Wow,” I mutter, shaking my head. “That’s what you’re focused on right now?”
He frowns.
“Jenna—”
“No, go ahead,” I snap. “Say it. Say how concerned you are about her.”
“That’s not what this is—”