Page 51 of Kidnapped By the Mafia

“She’s gone,” I bite out, my voice low and deadly, every word laced with fury. “Emily’s gone.”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end of the line, and I can practically hear the gears turning in Jake’s mind, the calm professionalism slipping away as the gravity of the situation sinks in.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice tight, urgent.

“Do I fucking sound unsure?” I snap, the anger flaring hotter, burning away the edges of my fear. “They took her, Jake. The ambush was a setup. They knew I’d be gone.”

“Fuck,” Jake says. “I’ll mobilize the men. We’ll find her, boss. I swear.”

“There’s no ‘we’ here,” I growl, already moving, already thinking ten steps ahead. “This is on me. You tell the men no one sleeps until she’s found. A million-dollar bonus for anyone who brings me her location. I want every eye in this city looking for her. Every ear listening. I don’t care if we have to tear this city apart brick by brick—no one stops until she’s back.”

“I’ll handle it,” Jake says, the urgency in his voice matching my own. “I’ll send word out now. We’ll find her.”

The call ends, and I toss the phone onto the couch, my mind already racing with possibilities, scenarios, each one darker than the last.

The thought of Emily, alone and scared, out there in the hands of Albrecht or one of his men, is enough to drive me to the brink of madness. But I can’t afford to lose it now. I have to stay focused, stay sharp. This isn’t over—not by a long shot.

I head to the liquor cabinet, pouring myself a glass of whiskey, my hand shaking slightly as I bring it to my lips. The alcohol burns as it goes down, but it does nothing to numb the fire raging inside me. If anything, it just stokes it, fuels the anger, the desperation.

I stare out the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city sprawling out beneath me, a sea of lights and shadows. Somewhere out there, Emily is waiting for me. Somewhere out there, she’s in danger, and I have no idea how to find her.

But I will find her. I’ll burn this fucking city to the ground if I have to. I won’t stop until she’s back in my arms, safe, where she belongs.

And when I find the bastards who took her, when I find Albrecht and his men… God help them.

Because I won’t.

The whiskey does nothing to dull the edge of the fear gnawing at me. I slam the glass down on the counter, the sharp crack of it hitting the marble echoing through the empty penthouse.

The city stretches out before me, a glittering maze of lights and shadows, but all I can see is the darkness closing in on me, on Emily.

I’ve faced down death more times than I can count, built an empire out of blood and steel, but nothing has ever felt as terrifying as this—knowing she’s out there somewhere, alone, and that it’s my fault she’s in danger.

The rage inside me is a beast, clawing at my insides, but I force it down, tamping it into something cold, something I can use.

There’s a knock at the door, and I whirl around, half-expecting it to be some cruel joke, for Emily to walk in as if nothing happened. But it’s Jake. He steps inside, his face set in grim determination.

“We’ve mobilized everyone,” Jake says without preamble. “I’ve got men on the streets, in the clubs, checking every place Albrecht’s been known to frequent. We’ll find her, Lucas. We’re tracking that cop who snatched her last time. He might know something.”

His words are meant to reassure, but they only add fuel to the fire burning in my chest. It’s not enough. Nothing will be enough until I have her back.

“Keep pushing,” I order, my voice flat, devoid of emotion. “I want every contact, every informant, squeezed dry. And if anyone knows something and isn’t talking…” I let the sentence hang, the implication clear.

Jake nods, understanding perfectly. He’s been with me long enough to know that mercy isn’t part of the equation, not when it comes to the people I care about.

“Understood,” he says, and I see the flicker of something in his eyes—worry, maybe. He knows what I’m capable of when I’m pushed to the edge, and he knows I’m already there.

He takes a step closer, his voice dropping to something more personal, more concerned. “Lucas, we’ll find her. But you need to stay clear-headed. Don’t let this?—”

“Don’t tell me how to handle this, Jake,” I snap, cutting him off. The anger flares up, hot and vicious, and for a moment, I see the surprise in his eyes. But then he nods, accepting it, because he knows as well as I do that nothing matters more than getting Emily back.

He leaves to continue the search, and I’m alone again, the silence of the penthouse pressing in on me. I can’t stay here, can’t sit still while she’s out there. I need to move, need to be doing something—anything—to bring her back.

I grab my jacket, the familiar weight of the gun at my side a small comfort as I head for the door. The streets are where I need to be, where I can make things happen. If I can’t find her from here, I’ll go out and find her myself.

But just as I reach the door, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I snatch it up, hope flaring in my chest, only for it to be dashed when I see the message. No new leads. The frustration wells up, nearly choking me, but I force it down. There’s no room for weakness, no room for doubt.

Then, another buzz. A second message. This one from an informant I planted years ago, deep inside Albrecht’s organization. It’s a single line, but it sends a jolt of adrenaline through me.

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