Page 27

SERGIO

Ryan paced the length of my office, phone clutched tightly in his hand. His usual calm was replaced with agitation, which meant bad news. I leaned back in my chair, trying to keep my focus sharp despite the restless energy clawing at my chest.

“You’re driving me crazy, Ryan. Either sit down or tell me what’s going on.”

Ryan stopped, turned toward me, and exhaled sharply. “The contact you asked me to call? He found something. It’s about Mirella’s father.”

I sat up straight, the tension in my shoulders snapping into sharp focus. “Where?”

“He’s been held in one of Don Carlos’s warehouses. For years, Sergio.” Ryan’s voice was tight and clipped as if he were holding back anger.

The news hit me harder than I’d expected. Years. Mirella had been searching, hoping, and Don Carlos—no, that bastard—had him all along. My fingers curled into fists, the blood roaring in my ears.

“Get me everything you know about that warehouse.” My voice was low and calm, but I could feel the storm brewing inside me.

Ryan hesitated, shifting uncomfortably. “That’s not all. My source says something else.”

I stared at him. “Spit it out.”

Ryan’s jaw tightened. “Don Carlos might know Mirella is The Raven.”

The words were a punch to the gut. My mind blanked for a second before anger snapped me back into focus. I stood up, the chair scraping loudly against the hardwood floor.

“This is bad, so bad.”

Ryan shook his head. “We don’t know yet, but Don Carlos is coordinating an attack on her men. He’s moving quickly, which means—”

“Which means Mirella’s in trouble,” I finished for him.

I ran a hand through my hair, pacing now because sitting was no longer an option. This wasn’t a coincidence. Don Carlos was too calculated for that. Mirella’s been playing a dangerous game for a long time, but if he truly knew who she was, this wasn’t just about revenge—it was about control.

I turned to Ryan. “Call your contact. Have him dig deeper. I want eyes on every one of Don Carlos’s men by the end of the hour.”

Ryan nodded, already dialing. I grabbed my phone off the desk, my thoughts spinning as I scrolled through my contacts. Mirella wasn’t at home. She must be at the engagement, and she wasn’t answering her phone earlier. That pit in my stomach grew deeper.

“Where is she?” I muttered to myself, my thumb hovering over a number I hadn’t called in weeks.

Ryan glanced up. “You think she’s at the engagement?”

“If she’s not there, she’s somewhere worse,” I said flatly. “And I need to know, now.”

I hit call. The line rang twice before a familiar voice answered. It was one of my allies—someone who’d been forced to play nice with Don Carlos but never truly bent to him.

“Is she there?” I didn’t bother with pleasantries.

The ally paused just long enough to irritate me. “Who?”

“You know who.”

“No,” he replied carefully. “Haven’t seen her in a minute. Why?”

That answer didn’t ease me. In fact, it confirmed what I already feared. Mirella wouldn’t miss this event unless something—or someone—stopped her.

I leaned against the desk, lowering my voice. “Listen to me. Are you and your men ready?”

He didn’t respond immediately, and I could almost hear him weighing my words. There were rules in this game, and alliances were fragile. Asking that question meant I was stirring the pot.

“Why do you ask?”

I gave a humorless laugh. “Because I’m tired of pretending we’re not all suffocating under Don Carlos’s boot. And I know you are too.”

Silence stretched. I could feel the weight of it, the years of bitterness and quiet resentment. Men like Don Carlos ruled through fear, but fear only worked until people had nothing left to lose.

“Tell me you’re ready,” I pressed, my voice firm now.

The ally exhaled, slow and heavy. “We’ve always been ready to get out of the clutches of that tyrant.”

I gripped the phone tighter, my pulse finally starting to calm. Good. Finally.

“We move when I say,” I said, steel in my tone. “Stay sharp, and don’t trust anyone outside your men. I’ll call you when it’s time.”

The line clicked dead, and I lowered the phone, my mind already racing with the next steps.

Ryan watched me carefully. “They’re in?”

“They’re in.” I straightened, exhaling slowly as I pushed down the rage boiling beneath my calm surface. “Mirella’s in danger, Ryan. Don Carlos is tightening the noose, and I need to find her before he finishes the job.”

Ryan rubbed a hand over his face. “Sergio, you’re walking into a trap. You know that, right?”

“Of course I know that,” I snapped and then softened. “But what choice do I have? Mirella’s father is barely holding on, and now Don Carlos might have her, too. If I sit here doing nothing, I may as well hand them over myself.”

Ryan sighed but didn’t argue further. He knew me too well by now.

I moved toward the door, grabbing my jacket on the way. “Call the men. I want every resource we have focused on finding Mirella. No excuses.”

Ryan nodded, already pulling out his phone. “What are you going to do?”

I stopped with my hand on the doorknob. “I’m going to remind Don Carlos that no one gets to touch what’s mine.”

And if I had to burn his entire empire to the ground to do it, so be it.

*****

Mirella’s house looked like a war zone. Furniture overturned, glass shattered, and signs of a struggle in every corner of the living room. I stepped carefully over the remnants of what used to be a vase, scanning for anything that might tell me what happened here. My heart was pounding, and not just because of the mess. It was too quiet. The kind of quiet that sets your teeth on edge and makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. I knew Mirella wouldn’t be here, but I came to get Dahlia and Alex.

No Alex. No Dahlia. That pit in my stomach, the one I’d been trying to ignore since Ryan’s call, was now a full-blown chasm.

I crouched near the broken coffee table, picking up a small stuffed bear. It belonged to Alex. He never went anywhere without it.

“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath, clenching the toy in my hand.

This wasn’t random. This wasn’t a burglary or some street-level thug breaking in. No, this had Don Carlos written all over it.

I straightened, tossing the bear onto the couch. Time wasn’t on my side. If Don Carlos had taken them, I couldn’t afford to sit around playing detective.

I reached for my phone, my fingers trembling slightly as I dialed the number I knew by heart. My father’s number.

It rang twice before he answered, his voice smooth and authoritative as always.

“Sergio. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

I forced a smile into my tone. “I heard you caught The Raven,”

Don Carlos chuckled. “You heard correctly. She’s right here.”

My heart almost skipped a beat, but I managed to keep it steady.

“It’s about time. Mirella thought she was smart, but we outsmarted her.”

I paused. I knew my father too well to know if I wanted him to let me in, I needed to sell this role to him.

“I started suspecting her some time ago,” I began, keeping my voice steady and careful. “Little things here and there. Missing meetings. Strange calls. But I didn’t have proof.”

“And now?”

I let out a short, humorless laugh. “Now, I know you are right about her. The Raven, Father? It’s possible.”

He made a sound of approval, the kind of sound he used to make when I aced a test as a kid. It grated on me.

“So, you’ve finally started using that brain of yours,” he said.

I swallowed the insult and pressed on. “I thought I’d use this opportunity to prove myself to you. Let me handle it, Father. Let me take care of Mirella.”

The line went quiet again, and for a moment, I thought I’d pushed too hard. Then, his voice came through, sharp and decisive.

“You want to prove yourself, Sergio?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Come to the old warehouse in Westchester. I’ll give you the address.”

I barely stopped myself from sighing in relief. Instead, I grabbed a pen from the floor and scribbled the address he rattled off onto the back of my hand.

“Consider this a test,” he added, his tone dripping with condescension. “Don’t disappoint me.”

The line went dead, and I lowered the phone, staring at the address on the paper like it might combust in my palm.

A test. That’s what he thought this was. My father’s games had always been cruel, but this wasn’t about me proving myself to him. This was about Mirella, Alex, Dahlia—and getting them out alive.

I shoved the phone back into my pocket and glanced around the room one last time, searching for any clue I might have missed. But the house gave me nothing, just more questions than answers.

I headed for the door, and a thousand thoughts fought for space in my head. What condition would I find them in? Was Mirella even still alive? And Alex—my son.

The thought of him in Don Carlos’s hands was enough to make my blood boil. My father had always been ruthless, but going after a child? That was a new low, even for him.

I stepped outside. My car was parked down the street, and as I walked toward it, I made a silent promise.

This ends tonight.

One way or another, I was getting them back. And if my father thought I was playing his game, he was in for a rude awakening.

*****

The air inside the warehouse was cold and eerie. The kind that prickled at your skin and made every breath feel like a risk. Don Carlos stood tall, his figure backlit by the flickering overhead bulb. His voice cut through the silence as he turned toward Mr. Gallo, who was chained beside Mirella.

“Choose, old man,” Don Carlos commanded. “Your daughter, or the location of the safe.”

Mr. Gallo’s face was pale, his features lined with exhaustion and pain. But his eyes—they burned with something fierce. I knew that look. A father’s desperation. I had seen it before, years ago, in a mirror.

“I told you, don’t tell him anything!” Mirella’s voice broke through the stillness. Her arms pulled against the chains holding her, but it was no use. Her strength, though fierce, wasn’t enough to break steel.

I stayed quiet, leaning against a rusted support beam, the gun in my hand feeling heavier by the second. My father’s eyes darted to me, watching and waiting. Testing me. I kept my expression neutral, cold even. No mischief, no emotion, no tells. I tried to avoid eye contact with Mirella because I didn’t want to risk breaking character.

Mr. Gallo’s voice cracked when he finally spoke. “It’s behind the bookshelf. In my study.”

Mirella’s eyes widened in disbelief. “No! You can’t—”

Don Carlos’s laughter was sharp, cutting through the room. “Behind a bookshelf?” He shook his head, pacing slowly. “All this time… under my nose. How amusing. I suppose I overestimated you, Gallo. Too obvious. Too simple.”

I could feel the shift in the room as Don Carlos stopped pacing. His gaze landed on me, a glint of malice in his eyes. He gestured toward the prisoners with a casual wave.

“Once my men confirm the safe is there, Sergio, kill them all.”

I stood straighter, my heart racing, though I kept my face unreadable. “All of them?”

“Yes, all of them,” he snapped. “They’re of no use to me now.”

I nodded, my grip tightening around the gun. The warehouse felt too quiet, too still. Mirella’s eyes met mine, and for a moment, there was nothing but silent desperation between us. She didn’t plead or beg. But her eyes—they asked the question she couldn’t say out loud.

I stepped forward, the sound of my boots echoing off the concrete. Don Carlos’s back was to me now as he barked orders to one of his men to get his car ready to go check the safe.

This was my moment.

The first shot rang out, the sound deafening in the confined space. Don Carlos staggered forward, clutching his arm, his face twisted in shock. Before he could turn, the second shot hit his leg, and he crumpled to the ground.

The room exploded into chaos.

Don Carlos looked up at me, his hand pressed to his bleeding arm, his expression a mix of pain and disbelief. “What… what are you doing?”

“Ending this,” I said, stepping closer. “Your reign of terror stops here.”

His voice turned cold, his eyes narrowing. “You think this changes anything? Men! Kill him!”

No one moved.

Don Carlos’s gaze darted around the room, confusion creeping into his features. His men stood still, their guns lowered. One by one, they stepped back, their loyalty shifting right before his eyes.

“I say kill him,” he barked at them, but no one moved.

“They are also tired of your reign, father.”

Realization dawned on his face.

“You… you’ve been recruiting them?” His voice was laced with disbelief, almost a laugh.

I crouched in front of him, pulling something from under my coat. A mask. The mask I’d worn during that wedding. I dropped it on the floor in front of him, letting it land at his feet.

His eyes widened, his breathing uneven. “It can’t be…”

“Oh, it can,” I said, my voice low. “It was me that day. I was the one who shot you. And now I’ve done it again. Only this time, I’m not running. This time, I’m finishing what I started.”

Don Carlos tried to push himself up, but his strength was failing. “You think you’re better than me, Sergio?” His voice cracked with anger. “You’re just like me.”

“No,” I said, standing over him. “I’m nothing like you. And I’m going to make sure you rot for the rest of your miserable life.”

I pulled out my phone and dialed. The call was quick, and the message was brief. “You can pick him up now. Westchester. Send everyone.”

Don Carlos’s eyes widened in shock as the realization hit him.

“You called the police?”

“Enjoy prison, Father.”

The sound of sirens grew louder in the distance, cutting through the heavy silence.

I turned to Mirella and her father, who were still chained. Mirella’s face was unreadable, and her emotions were a storm I couldn’t quite place. I moved quickly, releasing them both from their bonds.

The moment Mirella was free, she grabbed my arm, her voice trembling. “Alex. Dahlia. Where are they?”

I gave her a small smile. “They’re safe. Ryan has them in the other room.”

Relief washed over her face, her shoulders sagging as she exhaled.

Mr. Gallo, still weak but standing, gripped my arm. “Thank you,” he said, his voice heavy with gratitude.

I nodded, but my mind was already elsewhere. This wasn’t over yet. There was still one last thing I needed to do.

The police arrived moments later, swarming the warehouse and taking Don Carlos into custody. He glared at me as they dragged him away, but his threats fell on deaf ears.

I watched him go, and everything felt light. Years of pain, years of abuse, years of guilt, and years of anguish all came flushing down.

I felt peace, a peace that came with justice. I would make sure he never saw the outside of a cell again. For Mirella. For Alex. For Jacqueline. For all of us.