Page 20 of Marked By Mayhem

Dark. Vile. Wicked. I need to get to her. I have to talk to her. To make her stop. But I feel like anything I will say to her from this point forward will mean nothing to her.

I think about the look on her face if I show up in front of her. I think about the questions she’ll ask me. I look at my laptop, lying beside me. Ella's CV is still on the screen, her face staring back at me. I find myself studying the lines of her features, the slight curve of her lips, and a strange mix of emotions wash over me. I feel the anger change into longing every time I look at her face.

I want to ask Francesco what we should do, about the video and the journalist that could potentially expose me and my dealings. But every time I consider confiding in one of my men, the same thought stops me dead in my tracks – their solution would be swift and brutal, the elimination of the problem, which, in this case, is Ella.

I hesitate, torn between the loyalty to my family and the inexplicable pull I feel toward her. I hate the contradiction. The very person who could jeopardize everything I've built is someone I can't dismiss so easily. I jolt upright in bed when I hear rapping on my door.

Lorenzo strides into the room with an air of urgency, his expression a mix of concern and tension. I immediately shut my laptop, meeting his gaze.

"What's going on?" I demand, my voice sharp.

He takes a moment, catching his breath, before responding. "The arms warehouse, Tommaso. Mauro's men attacked it." I clench my jaw, a surge of anger coursing through me.

Fuck it.

The timing couldn't be more inconvenient. As if dealing with the potential fallout from Ella's exposé wasn't enough, now I have to contend with an attack on our vital resources.

"How bad is it?" I ask, my tone clipped.

Lorenzo’s eyes meet mine, and his voice drops a notch. "We lost a significant portion of our stock. It's a blow, Tommaso, and they've left a message."

My fingers tighten around the edge of the desk. "A message?"

He nods. "They want us to know they're not backing down. This is a direct challenge." The weight of the situation settles heavily on my shoulders. This is it. I need to take a stand.

“We are breaking the truce.”

“War?” he asks me, surprised.

I lean in, lowering my voice to a gruff whisper. "Send a few of our men to convey the message. Make sure they understand the gravity of the situation. We don't just retaliate; we make a statement. Mauro needs to realize what he asked for."

Lorenzo nods, "Consider it done."

"Good." I straighten up, my jaw tight. "Let them know we don't tolerate threats, and we certainly don't forgive attacks on our territory. Mauro needs a reminder of who holds the power in this city.

"Are you coming down for breakfast?" he inquires, standing at the doorway.

I glance at my laptop again. "Not today, Lorenzo. I have a pressing matter to deal with," I reply. The need to deal with Ella intensifies as I contemplate the gravity of the situation now. Her resolute nature is a threat. I know she won't yield easily, especially now that she holds a piece of my covert world in her hands.

She won't rest until that damn article is published. A journalist like her would die to get hands on information like this. The realization hits me—she is willing to risk her life to get this information out. As I weigh the consequences, another chilling thought creeps in.

Shit.

If conventional publishers turn her down, Ella won't hesitate to take her findings to the authorities, to the federals. We grease enough palms in the media sector, and the local police force, not to mention that we own several media outlets. But the Feds are a whole other matter. We have some men in there we can trust, but it is just too risky.

My mind races to anticipate her next moves. I can't afford to underestimate her. The potential fallout from her actions could be catastrophic, not just for me but for the entire clandestine network I run. I need to get to her.

Now.

The impending conflict with Mauro's clan looms, but for now, my focus narrows onto the immediate threat that Ella represents. I pull out my phone, contemplating the weight of the decision I'm about to make. I dial Francesco's number after a minute. He picks up immediately.

"Something requires our attention. It's urgent. Gather six men and meet me outside. Have the cars ready," I instruct, keeping the details cryptic.

Francesco pauses for a moment, sensing the gravity of my tone. "You don’t sound yourself. What is it?"

"You'll know. Move quick, Francesco," I say, ‘And be very discreet,’ I add before ending the call. Next on the list is Frank, the head at Bel-Air magazine. I dial his number.

"I want your Ella Hart in the office within the next hour," I order.

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