Chapter 8 - The Price of Blood
The armored vehicle skidded to a halt in front of a dilapidated brick warehouse where the rain poured through a collapsed roof.
Aleandro threw the door open before the vehicle had even fully stopped, sprinting toward the rear support transport where Sophia and four-year-old Emma were supposed to be sleeping.
He ripped the back doors open.
Sophia was bound and gagged in the corner, unconscious but breathing.
The child’s seat was empty.
On the metal floorboards rested a small, bloodstained stuffed rabbit with a loose ear.
A digital tablet sat beside it, blinking with a live video feed. Aleandro grabbed it with shaking hands and hit play.
The screen flickered to life, showing a dimly lit basement room. Standing in front of the camera was a man wearing an expensive tailored suit, his face obscured by a silver Venetian mask, holding little Emma in his arms. The little girl looked frightened, but she wasn't crying. She clutched a tiny piece of wood she had picked up from the floor.
The masked man leaned close to the camera, his voice distorted by a digital modulator, but carrying a chilling, familiar cadence that made Aleandro’s blood run cold.
“Tick-tock, Aleandro,” the voice whispered. “You saved your money. You saved your empire. But you forgot the most important rule of the underworld: never leave a loose thread in the family tree.”
The screen went black.
Behind Aleandro, Isabella stepped out into the rain, staring at the empty van and the abandoned rabbit. She covered her mouth with her hands, a choked sob escaping her lips.
Aleandro didn't scream. He didn't curse. He simply closed his eyes, took a long, steady breath, and let the ice completely take over his soul.
May you like
He cocked the Sig Sauer, turned to Salvatore and his men marching up behind him, and spoke with a finality that shook the rain from the air.
"Find out who owns that feed," Aleandro whispered, his eyes burning with a lethal fire. "And burn the entire city to the ground until we get her back."
