Page 50 of Kidnapped By the Mafia

“One more thing for you,” he says, passing me a parcel.

“What’s this?” I ask, taking the bundle from him, feeling the lightness of it, the way it fits perfectly in the palm of my hand.

“Something my wife made,” he says quietly, his eyes meeting mine. “For the baby.”

I unwrap the paper carefully, revealing a set of tiny, hand-knitted booties and a small, soft blanket. The sight of them—so delicate, so fragile—hits me harder than I expected. For a moment, the cold, hard edge of the night melts away, replaced by something warmer, something softer.

“She wanted you to have them,” Jake continues, his voice almost reverent.

I stare at the tiny items in my hands, the reality of what’s coming crashing down on me all over again. It’s easy to get lost in the bloodshed, the power plays, the endless cycle of violence that defines my life. But this—this is different. This is real. This is a future I never thought I’d have, a future I’m terrified of losing.

“Thank her for me,” I say, my voice rough, the words catching in my throat. I look up at Jake, and there’s an understanding in his eyes, a shared knowledge of what’s at stake. He knows what this means, what it costs to protect something so precious in a world as dark as ours.

Jake gives me a final nod before turning to leave, his footsteps echoing softly against the cracked pavement. I watch him go, the weight of the night pressing down on me, but there’s a new determination in my step as I head back to my car.

36

LUCAS

The elevator ride is silent, the only sound the soft hum of the machinery, a stark contrast to the chaos I’ve just left behind. But the weight of the necklace in my pocket reminds me of what’s important—what I’m fighting for.

As the doors open, I step into the warmth of the penthouse, my mind already on the moment when I’ll place the necklace around Emily’s neck, returning to her a piece of her past, a piece of herself.

And as I make my way to her, I know that this war isn’t just about revenge—it’s about protecting the future we’ve fought so hard to build. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep that future safe.

The penthouse is too quiet as I make my way toward the living room, the soft thud of my footsteps on the polished wood floors the only sound in the vast space.

There’s a heaviness in the air, a sense of unease that I can’t shake. I should feel relief after the night’s fight, a small victory in a larger war, but instead, all I feel is dread, a knot tightening in my gut as I approach the doors.

Something’s wrong. I can feel it in the pit of my stomach, in the way the air seems to hang heavy and still. The penthouse is never this quiet, never this lifeless. Emily should be here, waiting for me, maybe curled up on the couch with one of those books she loves, or resting in the bedroom, safe and sound.

But as I push open the door to the living room, the silence hits me like a physical blow. The room is empty, too empty, and a cold dread begins to creep up my spine.

The tension that’s been building all night suddenly snaps into sharp focus, every instinct screaming at me that something is terribly, terribly wrong.

“Emily?” My voice cuts through the silence, but there’s no answer, just the echo of my own words bouncing off the walls. I call out again, louder this time, panic lacing my tone as I move through the penthouse, checking room after room. “Emily!”

Nothing. No sound, no movement. Just emptiness.

My heart starts to race, the knot in my stomach tightening as I push open the door to the bedroom, expecting to find her there, maybe asleep, maybe annoyed that I woke her.

But the bed is untouched, the sheets undisturbed. The room is just as empty as the rest of the penthouse, and the cold dread in my gut turns into full-blown fear.

She’s gone.

I stand there for a moment, frozen, my mind racing as I try to make sense of what’s happening. How could this have happened? How could she be gone?

Did she run again? Could she be that foolish?

No, I trust her. She didn’t run.

And then it hits me, all at once, like a sledgehammer to the chest. The ambush. It was all a setup, a distraction to get me out of the way. While I was fighting off Albrecht’s men, they were here, taking Emily. Somehow they got past my security.

A surge of panic and rage wells up inside me, twisting into something dark and primal. The world around me seems to blur, my vision narrowing to a single point as I storm back into the living room, grabbing my phone with a grip so tight my knuckles turn white.

I punch in Jake’s number, my breath coming in short, sharp bursts as I try to keep the fear at bay, try to focus on what needs to be done. The phone rings once, twice, before Jake picks up.

“Boss?”

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