Page 15 of Lord of Little Italy

"Elena said there was a guy watching them in the club. She thought something felt off."

"Tony." Dom's voice cuts through my self-recrimination. "Your hand's bleeding."

I look down. Blood still drips from where the glass cut me, staining my shirt cuff. I hadn't even noticed.

"It's nothing."

"Get it wrapped. I need you functional."

One of his guys appears with a first aid kit. I let them bandage me while listing our potential enemies. The Vitales have been aggressive lately, pushing into Queens. The Russians lost two warehouses last month. The Irish have been quiet - too quiet.

"Boss!" One of my guys bursts in. Young kid, Tommy something. Good with computers. "We found something. Traffic cam caught the SUV heading toward the Brooklyn Bridge."

"Get me everything east of the bridge," I snap. "Every camera, every angle. Find that fucking car."

More men arrive - both families merging into one force. In any other circumstance, it would be historic. The families haven't worked together like this since... ever.

But all I can think about is Isabella. Is she conscious? Hurt? Scared?

No. Not Isabella. She's too strong for fear. She's probably calculating odds, looking for weaknesses, planning her escape. Like she planned everything else in that brilliant mind of hers.

God, I love that mind. Love her fire, her strength, her...

"Tony." Dom's voice is quiet now. We're alone in his study, away from the controlled chaos outside. "There's something you're not telling me."

I meet his eyes. For a moment, I consider lying. Considering hiding behind loyalty and alliance and all the other bullshit that seemed so important twelve hours ago.

Fuck it.

"I'm in love with your sister."

The words hang there, heavy as lead. Dom's expression doesn't change, but his hand tightens on his glass.

"How long?"

"Does it matter?"

"It might."

I run a hand through my hair, probably smearing blood everywhere. "Since she kicked my ass the day we met in your gym."

A ghost of a smile touches Dom's lips. "Sounds like her."

"I tried to fight it. Tried to stay away. But..."

"But she's Isabella."

"Yeah." The word comes out raw. "Dom, if anything happens to her—"

"We'll find her." His hand lands on my shoulder, heavy as judgment. "And then you and I are going to have a very long talk."

"I know."

"But first..." He opens his study door. "Let's go get my sister back."

We return to the war room. More intel has come in - possible safe houses in Brooklyn, surveillance footage of the SUV, lists of potential hostiles. Joe's got contacts in the port authority checking shipping containers. Vincent's guys are watching the airports and train stations.

I study the maps, the reports, but all I see is Isabella. Her smile. Her fire. The way she looks when she's about to prove someone wrong.

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