Page 23 of The Mob Boss's Bride
The warehouse meeting runs late,numbers and territories and shipment schedules blurring together as evening stretches into night. I check my watch again, thinking of Fern waiting at home. Home. The word still feels strange in my mind, but that's what the mansion has become since she arrived—not just my fortress, but our home. I'm calculating how soon I can leave without offending the Koreans when my phone vibrates. Vex's name on the screen. He wouldn't interrupt unless— The message flashes:
BREACH AT MANSION. NORTH SIDE. F LOCATION UNKNOWN.
The world stops, narrows to those seven words. Fern. Unknown location. Breach. Someone is in my home. Someone is threatening what's mine.
"Mr. Park," I say, cutting through the interpreter's droning, "we need to conclude. Now."
The Korean businessman raises an eyebrow at my tone, but something in my expression must warn him not to push. He nods once, sharply.
"My associate will finalize the details tomorrow." I'm already on my feet, not waiting for a response. Donovan can clean this up. Right now, nothing matters but getting to Fern.
Outside, I call Vex while sliding behind the wheel of my Audi. "Talk."
"Four men. Armed. They breached the north perimeter through the service entrance. Security responded but they were prepared. Two of our men down."
"Dead?" I pull into traffic, pressing the accelerator to the floor.
"One confirmed. Second critical."
"And Fern?" Her name comes out strangled, fear clawing at my throat like a living thing.
"Last seen in the east wing. Her kitchen. Security cams went down before we could confirm her current location."
"Who?" I swerve around a slower car, ignoring the angry honk.
"Masks, but Rodriguez's crew based on tactics. Targeted strike."
Rodriguez. My grip tightens on the steering wheel until my knuckles go white. Miguel Rodriguez, ambitious second-tier player who's been pushing boundaries for months. Testing me. And now he's crossed the one line no one crosses.
He's threatened my wife.
"How many men on site?" I'm already calculating angles, points of entry, the quickest route to Fern.
"Eight of ours still functional. Two of theirs confirmed down. At least two still active in the house."
"I'm five minutes out. No one touches Fern. No one." The words come out as a growl.
"Understood, boss."
I end the call and press the accelerator harder, my mind racing through scenarios, each one worse than the last. Fern hurt. Fern taken. Fern—no. I can't think like that. I need cold clarity now. Need to be the man who earned his territory through blood and ruthlessness, not the husband frantic with worry.
The drive that normally takes fifteen minutes I cover in seven. The gates to the estate are already open—not a good sign. I take the service entrance, tires squealing on gravel as I brake hard.
Marco meets me at the side door, blood streaking his face from a cut above his eye. "Two intruders still unaccounted for. East wing secure, but Mrs. Vale isn't there."
Cold dread pools in my stomach. "The panic room?"
"No sign she made it there."
I draw my gun, checking it with practiced efficiency. "Find her. Kill anyone who isn't ours."
Marco nods, understanding the order for what it is—no prisoners, no mercy. Not tonight.
I move through the house like a ghost, every sense heightened. The west wing shows signs of struggle—a broken vase, bullet holes in the wall, blood on the marble floor. One of Rodriguez's men lies dead in the hallway, throat cut with clinical precision. Vex's work.
A crash from the library pulls my attention. I approach silently, gun ready. Through the partially open door, I see a man in tactical gear rifling through my desk, clearly looking for something specific. Papers scatter as he yanks open drawers.
I could call out, demand answers. Instead, I step into the room and put a bullet through his knee.
