Chapter 6 - THE TRAP IS SET
"MIA!" Elena’s scream echoed through the vast, empty halls of the estate, carrying a raw, primal agony that tore through the air. She dropped to her knees on the cold kitchen tile, clutching the torn stuffed bear to her chest, her body shaking hysterically. "MIA! NO! MIA!"
Antonio burst into the kitchen a second later, his heavy gun drawn, his eyes sweeping the empty room. When he saw the open door and the shattered plate, his jaw locked with such force a muscle in his cheek twitched violently.
He knelt beside Elena, his massive hand coming down firmly on her shaking shoulder. "Elena. Look at me."
"They took her!" Elena sobbed, turning her tear-streaked face to him, grabbing his jacket lapels with desperate strength. "Antonio, they took my baby! Please! Please bring her back!"
"Listen to me!" Antonio commanded, his voice deep, gravelly, and steady as an anchor in a hurricane. "I swear to you on my son Leo’s grave... I will bring Mia back to you alive. Do you hear me? They will not hurt her."
He pulled his phone back to his ear. Costa was still on the line, laughing softly.
"What do you want, Costa?" Antonio asked, his voice entirely devoid of panic—flat, terrifyingly quiet, and heavy with promised death.
"Warehouse Forty-Two at the Brooklyn Navy Yard," Costa said smoothly. "Come alone, Antonio. No guards, no SWAT, no tracking devices. You have thirty minutes. If I see a single Moretti vehicle near the perimeter, I drop the little girl into the East River."
"If you lay one finger on that child, Vittorio," Antonio whispered into the receiver, "I will skin you alive in front of your own men."
"Thirty minutes, Dawn," Costa said, and the line went dead.
Antonio stood up, sliding his heavy weapon back into his shoulder holster. He grabbed a second tactical knife from a hidden drawer beneath the kitchen counter and strapped it to his boot.
"I'm coming with you," Elena declared, pushing herself up from the floor, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. Her face was pale, but her brown eyes burned with an unstoppable maternal fury.
"No," Antonio said firmly. "It's too dangerous. Costa wants a bloodbath."
"She is MY daughter!" Elena shouted, stepping right into his space, her chest heaving. "You spent five years hiding behind your grief while the snake who killed your son slept under your roof! I am NOT going to sit in this house and wait for a phone call! I am coming with you, or I will drive there myself!"
Antonio looked down at her—at the fierce, unbreakable fire in her eyes. He recognized that fire. It was the same relentless love that had made her bring her child into his dangerous house just to keep her safe.
"Get in the car," Antonio said grimly.
They sprinted out to the courtyard, where Antonio’s personal black armored Dodge Charger was parked. He fired up the supercharged V8 engine, the roar echoing off the limestone walls of the courtyard, and slammed the accelerator to the floor. The car launched through the gates, tearing down the highway toward Brooklyn at over one hundred miles per hour.
As he drove, weaving violently through afternoon traffic, Antonio picked up an encrypted earpiece and dialed a private number.
"Marco," Antonio said as soon as the line connected.
Marco was Antonio’s oldest loyal lieutenant—a retired Navy SEAL who commanded his private tactical wing, completely separate from Damian’s division.
"Boss," Marco answered. "Where are you? Damian just issued an order locking down the main armory."
"Damian is a traitor," Antonio said flatly, his words cutting through the earpiece like a scythe. "He set up Leo five years ago. And he just helped Costa kidnap Elena Rossi’s daughter."
A heavy gasp sounded over the line. "Jesus Christ..."
"Listen to me carefully, Marco," Antonio instructed, his eyes fixed on the Brooklyn skyline ahead. "Take Team Alpha. Surround Warehouse Forty-Two at the Navy Yard. Do not engage until I am inside. When the shooting starts, your only priority is securing the child. Do you understand?"
"Understood, Boss. What about Damian?"
"Leave Damian to me," Antonio growled.
Beside him in the passenger seat, Elena held Mia’s plastic stethoscope tightly in her hand, staring out the rain-streaked window as the industrial cranes of the Brooklyn docks rose like giant metal skeletons against the darkening sky.
"He's going to try to kill you there, isn't he?" Elena asked quietly.
Antonio didn't turn his head. "He’s going to try."
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"Don't let him win, Antonio," Elena whispered, looking over at his sharp, hardened profile. "Leo deserves justice. And Mia needs her doctor."
Antonio’s fingers tightened around the leather steering wheel until his knuckles clicked. "Nobody dies today except the men who touched that child."
