Page 38 of Marcello DeLuca

The quick walk down memory lane makes me emotional. Knowing that this time, it isn’t a scare, that they really have taken her from me makes me unravel.

I take a breath, force my voice to steady. “Call Vito. Tell him to meet me at the safe house. I’m on my way there.”

“Marcello—” he starts, but I cut him off.

“Do it, Ramiri.” The words are steel, unyielding. I hang up before he can say anything else, the click of the phone a punctuation to the chaos spiraling around me.

I grab my keys, my heart pounding a relentless drumbeat in my chest. Every second counts. I have to find Safia. I have to piece together the shattered fragments of my life, even as the world burns around me.

The city blurs around me as I barrel down the streets, forcing every thought into sharp focus. Rage, fear, betrayal—they're distractions. I need to be precise, ruthless. The man who will save Safia, the man who will rip apart anyone who stands in his way.

The safe house is tucked away in a maze of city streets, its nondescript facade hiding the fortress within. I pull up, leap out of the car, scanning the shadows. Every nerve is a live wire, every sense on high alert.

Vito stands against the wall, a silhouette of tension and readiness. His eyes lock onto mine, and a silent agreement passes between us. We shared blood, history, and now, a mission. This is more than a rescue. It's a declaration of war.

“Marcello,” Vito greets me, his voice steady but laced with urgency. “We need a plan. Fast.”

I nod, already pulling out my phone. "Prosper, I need you to track Safia. Use every camera, every facial recognition system. I want eyes on her, now."

Prosper’s voice crackles through the speaker, calm and methodical. “I’m on it. I’ll have something for you in minutes.”

Minutes feel like an eternity. I turn to Vito, laying out the next steps. “Get the men ready. Full gear, military style. We’re hitting them hard and fast. I want helicopters in the air, mopeds on the ground. Cover every escape route. Informants need to start talking.”

Vito’s face hardens with resolve. “I’ve already mobilized them. The DeLuca army is moving. We have spies inside the Grecozi family. They’ll relay any movement.”

"Good," I say, a cold edge to my voice. "We’ll also keep an eye on Jack Dunner's brother. Jack tried to take Safia before. We ended him, but his connections could still be a threat."

Vito nods, then pauses, his expression shifting. “Marcello, there's something else. Rumor has it Paleto Grecozi is the one behind this. He’s made moves against us before, but this… it’s personal for him.”

Paleto. The name seethes through me like poison. The man who has Safia. “Where is he?” I demand, each word a blade.

“We have intel on a warehouse outside the city,” Vito says. “He’s fortified it. But with our numbers and firepower, we can breach it.”

Prosper’s voice cuts back in over the phone. “I’ve got a hit. Safia was seen near an industrial area on the outskirts. Cameras show a black SUV entering a gated warehouse complex. It matches the description of Grecozi’s compound.”

The pieces fall into place. The compound. The SUV. Paleto. “That’s our target,” I say, the plan crystallizing in my mind. “We hit Grecozi’s compound with everything we’ve got. No one leaves until Safia is safe.”

Vito’s eyes gleam with a dangerous light. “We’ll make them regret ever touching her.”

I nod, adrenaline surging through me. “Get everyone ready. We move in ten.”

Minutes later, the safe house is a flurry of activity. Men in combat gear load into vehicles, weapons glinting in the dim light. Helicopters are prepped for takeoff, their rotors slicing through the night air. Mopeds line the streets, ready to weave through traffic and block escape routes.

I pull Vito aside, our breaths mingling in the cool night air. “When we go in, I want a perimeter locked down. No one gets out. If Paleto’s there, he doesn’t leave alive.”

Vito grips my shoulder, his eyes burning with the same fire that’s roaring inside me. “We’ll get her back, Marcello. And we’ll make them pay.”

The convoy roars to life, engines snarling as we surge out into the night. Prosper’s voice guides us through the city, his updates a lifeline in the chaos. We approach the industrial area, the compound looming ahead, dark and foreboding.

Helicopters hover overhead, their searchlights piercing the darkness. Mopeds zip through alleyways, positioning themselves at every possible exit. Our vehicles roll to a stop, and men pour out, weapons at the ready, faces set in grim determination.

I step forward, Vito at my side, the compound's gates towering before us. The silence is oppressive, a coiled tension ready to explode.

“On my signal,” I whisper into my earpiece, my voice steady despite the storm inside me. “We breach the gates and take them down. Remember, we’re here for Safia. Nothing else matters.”

A heartbeat. Two. Then I give the signal.

Explosions rip through the gates, shattering the silence. We surge forward, a relentless wave of fury and precision. Bullets fly, shouts echo through the night.

---