Chapter 3 - The Iron Grip
"Find them."
Lucien’s voice was barely a whisper, but it carried the weight of an avalanche. In the executive war room of the Moretti tower, every capo, lawyer, and intelligence chief stood at attention.
"Every airport, every railway station, every highway toll between here and the Canadian border," Lucien commanded, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his wedding ring in his fist. "Double the patrols. Interrogate Elena Bellini. Tear apart every property her family owns."
"Boss," Marco stepped forward cautiously, his face pale. "Elena’s apartment was cleared out two hours ago. Her lease was broken months in advance. She vanished with Serena."
Lucien slammed his fist onto the mahogany table, cracking the wood. "She has a newborn infant! They can’t just evaporate into thin air!"
"They didn't use commercial transport," Danny Caruso offered quietly from the corner. "We checked the toll cameras. A civilian vehicle matching a rental registered under a dummy corporation crossed the George Washington Bridge heading north at 10:15 AM. The plates were swapped fifty miles later."
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Lucien stared at the map of upstate New York spread across the table. For seven years, he had believed he controlled everything—every route, every dollar, every breath taken inside his territory. Yet his wife had slipped through his security net using methods he hadn't even taught her.
He had built an empire on surveillance, but he had forgotten the oldest rule of survival: a caged animal doesn't fight when it decides to leave; it simply disappears.
