Page 59 of Brutal Union
"Where were you?" I ask instead, voice deadly quiet.
"Handling the Irish soldier we captured. He's very talkative now." Luca's smile is all teeth and madness. "Seems they've been planning this for weeks. Just waiting for the right neutral ground."
My phone rings. Ana's number. I answer on speaker, a mistake I realize too late.
"Is it true?" Ana's voice shakes with fury. "Sofia just told me. Valentina suggested the meeting location?"
The silence stretches between us like a garrote, tightening with every breath. Valentina's face drains of color as understanding dawns. I see her hand drift to where I marked her throat yesterday, an unconscious gesture that makes the heat of my anger burn hotter.
"Ana—" she starts.
"Don't." Ana's voice cracks. "Don't you dare. My husband might never sign again because of your mistake. Because you thought you could play strategist."
"That's enough," I say, but the damage is done.
"I hope you're satisfied," Ana continues, furious tears evident in her voice. "You wanted to be important? Congratulations. You've destroyed the one person in this family who couldn't speak to defend himself."
The line goes dead. Valentina stands frozen, arms wrapped around herself like she's holding her pieces together. For a moment, I want to comfort her. My hand moves toward her, old instinct to pull her against me like I did yesterday, but I force it remain still.
"You're locking me out?" Her voice is small, disbelieving.
"I'm handling this how I should have from the beginning. Alone."
She stares at me for a long moment, those dark eyes now hollow with hurt, then turns and leaves without another word. With a nod, I tell Luca to leave and close the door behind them. Through the security monitors on my desk, I watch my wife pace the hallway outside. Back and forth, back and forth, like a caged animal realizing the bars are real. Luca passes her, his eyes tracking her movement with interest he's never shown before. My hand moves to my gun before I catch myself.
An hour passes in cold planning. I'm mapping strike coordinates when Sofia knocks, three sharp raps that demand attention.
"What?" I don't look up from the maps.
"We have a problem." She enters without invitation, closing the door behind her. "Alice is missing."
My pen stills on the paper. "What do you mean missing?"
"She was asking questions about old family business earlier." Sofia's voice carries an edge of concern I rarely hear. "She overheard something during the chaos when we got back. Something that upset her about the past."
"Old family business." I set down the pen, finally looking at my sister. The weight of old sins presses against my chest. "What exactly did she overhear?"
"I don't know. She was near the kitchen when some of the older guards were talking. Something about the old days, about how things used to be handled. Marco, she kept asking if our families had more history than she knew."
Ice forms in my chest. Some secrets are better buried with the dead. "Where is she now?"
"That's the problem. She's gone. Alice is missing from the compound." Sofia moves to the security monitors, her fingersflying over the keyboard. "I tried to find her but she's not in any of the common areas."
The screens flicker through different cameras. Empty hallways, the garden, the garage. All empty. I pull up the footage from two hours ago, when we first returned from the restaurant. There, in the chaos, while we arrived home dripping in blood, a small figure slips through the kitchen door.
"Fuck." I rewind, watch again. The footage clearly shows her escape during our return. Alice, moving with the kind of purpose that means she's not coming back. "She left during the chaos. We were all distracted."
"She must have heard something that scared her," Sofia says. "Or made her angry enough to run."
The video timestamp shows ninety minutes ago. She could be anywhere in Chicago by now. Another Bernardi sister in the wind, another tactical problem to solve because I let emotion cloud my judgment.
The door shudders under impact. Not a knock, someone throwing their shoulder against it. Valentina bursts through, breathing hard.
The sight of her competent, defiant, sends heat through me despite everything. My brilliant, infuriating wife.
"Alice is gone!" The words tumble out desperate, raw. "I went to check on her and her room's empty and—"
"I know." I turn the monitor to show the security footage, her sister's escape replaying on loop.
