Chapter 4 - The Shadow of the SyndicateThe temperature in the underground bunker beneath the West Side shipping docks dropped several degrees as Valentino slammed his fist against the steel table.
"Find her!" Valentino roared, his face mottled with fury, his dark eyes blazing like dying coals. "She’s seven months pregnant! She can’t just evaporate into thin air! Sweep every hospital, every private airstrip, every safehouse from here to Boston!"
His top caporegime, Marcus, stood silently by the door, arms crossed, looking remarkably unimpressed.
"You don't understand, Boss," Marcus said slowly. "We checked the private airstrip registries. She didn't fly commercial, and she didn't use any of our private jets."
"Then how the hell did she leave Manhattan?" Valentino snarled, pacing the concrete floor like a trapped animal.
"She used her family’s private security detail," Marcus replied quietly. "The ones her father left her before he passed. Men you dismissed as 'retired old timers.' Boss... Mrs. Visconti didn't just run away. She went home to the Sicilian Vanguard."
Valentino stopped dead in his tracks.
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The Sicilian Vanguard. The old-world faction of the syndicate—the absolute ruling council that held veto power over every logistics route, every financial asset, and every boss in the modern mafia hierarchy. An empire that Valentino had spent years trying to sideline and bypass.
And Elena was their sole remaining blood heir.
