Page 33 of Brando

“Brother, you need to step back,” he says before lifting his head slightly and silently instructing everyone else to leave. Just as quickly as they came in armed and ready for a fight, everyone exits the room, leaving me alone with Scar.

“Why are you here?” I ask hoarsely, the desperation evident in my tone. “You should be at home with your family.”

“You are my family,” he responds firmly. “I would never let anything keep me away when you need me.”

A shroud of silence settles between us as we stand amidst the wreckage and chaos that I have caused. Scar studies me carefully, knowing that I am usually the calm and level-headed one among us. But Mia's disappearance has sent me over the edge, making me lose control and act out in violence.

“How did you find me?”

“Does it matter?” Scar counters. “You're wasting your time leveling this place to the ground. They don't have Mia.”

“Falcone has her, and possibly her sisters. They know where he is.”

“If they know where he is, we’ll get it out of them,” Scar points out. “The proper way. But they won't give us anything if you continue this madness.”

He's right, and I know it. I've always been the rational one in our group, but Mia's abduction has pushed me to my limit. It has consumed me with fear and fury, causing me to lash out recklessly, perhaps ruining our best chance at getting the answers we need.

I know I have my brother Scar in my corner. I could never ask for a more lethal weapon. Scar is a master strategist, undoubtedly the best planner in the city. That’s why he’s the Don. He’s proved himself to such a degree that our family has the backing of all the major families, thanks to the big Don in Seattle, Dante Accardi. With the connections he’s made, we have no shortage of friends. And enemies. Yet enemies tend to think twice now before they mess with us.

I’m not sure what Frank Falcone is thinking or planning when he decides to knock on our door and start a war. To any outsider looking in, it would seem he’s on a suicide mission.His actions even have the Maltese shaking in their boots as they come to understand the severity of what he’s done. They had a problem with Tommy Corsica – a problem which was inherited by his three daughters. That problem was only complicated by Frank Falcone, who approached them under the premise of helping them find the girls to recoup their lost funds. But somewhere along the line, Frank’s plans changed, and he had taken to using the Maltese to further his own agenda. And now to intensify the problems in an effort to start a war, he had used the warehouse belonging to the Maltese to lure Mia and let us believe it was the Maltese who had her. We’d tracked her cell phone activity to the warehouse, which is how we found her location. Then the phone had seemingly dropped off the face of the earth. She was already gone before we got to the warehouse, and now her phone was off grid.

“He’s using a jammer,” Lucky says, matter-of-factly, as he pockets his phone. “He can switch it on and off whenever he wants. He’s playing games.”

Scar's voice is a low thrum in my ear as he speaks. “Frank's not waiting for you to come knocking on his door.”

“He’s going to stay one step ahead of you,” Rafi adds.

My hand clenches around my phone, knuckles white. My breath comes out in ragged pulls, and with each word my brothers speak, my heart hammers a furious rhythm, my mind closed off to thought. I’ve always been the one who never lets emotion get in the way of reason. But right now, I can’t find it in myself to think and I can’t be rational. I’ve called Mia more than a dozen times, and each time, I’m told the number is unavailable. I keep expecting her to call, but the more time that passes without any further communication with her, the more my heart constricts as I think of all the things that could go wrong while she’s away from me.

“We need to find him.” My voice is steel wrapped in velvet, deceptively calm.

“He won’t let you find him until he wants to be found,” Scar says.

“Then he won't be disappointed.” My eyes flare like an inferno that matches the burning in my veins—a fire kindled by vengeance and the need for retribution.

“Brando,” Scar warns, “think this through. It's exactly what he wants.”

“Then I'll give it to him.” There is no hesitation in my response, only the certainty of a man walking the edge of a blade, ready to draw blood. I’m ready to kill to get Mia back.

I storm out of the room, and the night swallows me whole as I step outside, the sky a black canvas that mirrors the abyss inside me. Mason Ironside emerges from the shadows, eyes narrowed as he stands motionless, watching me like a hawk.

“Mason.” The voice cuts through my thoughts, low and commanding. Scar materialises before me as he addresses Mason - calm, collected, commanding. Scar is so high up the hierarchy that he has the privilege of admonishing Mason without losing any of the respect that is afforded him.

“Scar,” Mason greets, with a half-smile that doesn't quite reach his tortured eyes. Mia’s loss has hit him hard.

“I would’ve thought you’d do a better job of keeping my brother out of trouble. Not joining him.” Scar's gaze never wavers, locking onto Mason with an intensity that should cut the man down at the knees. But not Mason. He’s running on empty since he lost the girls; he’s got nothing left to lose. It’s all or nothing for him now.

“Always straight to the bloody point, aren’t you?” Mason rubs the back of his neck, smoothing out the tension that’s made its home there.

“Time isn't a luxury we have.” Scar steps closer, an unspoken warning in the space he invades. “If you’re going to be a part of this, it’s my way or no way.”

“I want the girls back. I’ll get them back, with or without your help.”

Scar angles his head, regarding Mason curiously, as though trying to put together a puzzle that’s confounded him for a while.

“The Maltese seem to think Falcone has plans to sell the girls,” Scar tells him, watching Mason carefully, waiting for his reaction.

“That’s why I sent them into hiding and was trying to get them out of the country.”

---