Page 8 of The Bonventi War

I watch through the window as he slides into the back of a sleek, all-black Rolls-Royce, and someone drives him away.

"Um, who the heck was that?" a timid voice asks from behind me.

I turn to see Morgan cautiously approaching, her wide eyes fixed on the door Gio just exited through—her expression a mixture of fear and curiosity.

I take a deep, shuddering breath, trying to compose myself.

"A nightmare," I mutter. "One I hope to never see again."

5

GIO

Istep out of the gallery, my mind racing from the encounter with little Ms. Raven inside. Something's not fucking right, and I can't shake the feeling in my gut. As I slide into the back of my Rolls-Royce, I pull out my phone and dial Enzo.

"What did you find out?" Enzo's voice crackles through the speaker.

"We've got a problem," I say, my hand tightening into a fist. "I just met the shithead's sister. Get this, the father's missing."

"Missing?" Zo's tone sharpens. "What do you mean, missing?"

I rub my chin, frustration bubbling up inside me. "He's gone. She doesn't know where he went. Says she's dealing with the mess he left behind at the gallery, so it seems he's recently disappeared."

"Do you believe her?"

"I don't know what to believe," I admit, hating being so unsure. "Something's off. It's too damn convenient. First, JohnnyCarvello tries to kill Marco, leaves that note about protecting his sister. Now, daddy dearest is conveniently MIA? Shit, Zo, I can't shake the feeling we're missing something big."

"Okay, so she's lying then?"

I close my eyes, seeing her face again. Those fierce blue eyes, the way she stood her ground even when she was clearly terrified. "I don't know. That's what's eating at me. With Marco still recovering..." I pause. The image of my little brother bleeding out in my arms flashes through my mind, the crimson stain spreading across his shirt, the way he winced in pain.

"Giovanni." Enzo's tone sharpens. "Focus. You sure you're not letting your guilt over Marco cloud your judgment on this?"

I grip the phone tighter, my knuckles turning white.

"I'm not," I say, more to convince myself than Enzo. "This isn't all about that. Something just doesn't add up."

Enzo sighs. "You're right, it doesn't sound right. The brother had no Russian connections that we know of. And now the father's conveniently missing? Something's definitely up."

I nod, even though he can't see me. "Exactly."

"I'm trusting your judgment here, Gio," Enzo says. "So what's your next move?"

"I saw some large shipping crates in the gallery. Art pieces, I suppose." I turn and look out the window, watching my city go by. "And shit like that doesn't come through Chicago without the Greeks knowing about it."

"That's a good point."

"Yeah, so I'm going to call Ares, see what they know about any shipments the gallery received. But this girl..." I lean forward slightly. "She's my priority now. I'm going to break her, find out what she knows."

"How are you planning to watch her?" Enzo asks, a note of concern in his voice.

A dark smile spreads across my face. "Since this involves Marco, I'm going to watch her like a fucking hawk. Closer than ever. I have a feeling finding her missing father will link it all together."

"Alright," Zo says after a moment. "Use the men as you see fit. But Gio, be careful. Don't be reckless and no mistakes."

"Don't worry," I say, my voice hard with determination. "I've got this under control."

"As always, trust your instincts. They've kept us alive this long," Enzo says firmly.