"Terms for what?"
"For everything. The port operations. The shipping routes. Access to your distribution network. And most importantly, you staying the fuck out of Benedetti business permanently."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then you'll be shopping for a new fiancée. I hear the Costa girl won't be available anymore." The threat is casual, conversational, which makes it even more chilling.
Rage burns through me—white hot and blinding, threatening to override all rational thought.
Dominic's hand is definitely on his gun now, his knuckles white with the force of his grip. His men are tense, coiled like springs. Ready to move at his signal.
"Don't hurt her," I say through gritted teeth, forcing the words out.
"Then don't give me a reason to." Roberto's voice hardens, losing its amused edge. "Tonight. Eleven PM. Warehouse Twelve at the port. You know where that is?"
"I know it." One of the older structures, isolated from the main operations.
"Come alone. Just you. No Costa men. No crew. No army of soldiers riding to the rescue. You bring anyone, and I put a bullet in her head before you even get through the door. Understand?"
"I understand perfectly."
"Good. Oh, and Marcello? Don't be late. She's getting very uncomfortable tied to this chair. Would be a shame if her condition deteriorated before you arrived."
The line goes dead.
I stare at the phone, every muscle in my body coiled tight, ready to explode into violence.
"Warehouse Twelve," Dominic says immediately, his mind already working through tactical options. "I know it. We can position men around the perimeter. Hit them from multiple angles before they know what's happening—"
"No." I cut him off firmly.
"No?" His eyes flash dangerously. "That's my daughter in there—"
"I know whose daughter she is." I meet his gaze without flinching. "But if we go in guns blazing, she dies in the crossfire. You know that as well as I do."
I can see the acknowledgment in his eyes. He knows I'm right.
"He wants me alone," I continue, my voice steady now. "So, I'll go alone."
"The hell you will," Bruno interjects sharply. "Boss, this is a trap. Obviously. They'll kill you both the moment you walk through that door."
"They want to negotiate. If they wanted us dead, Liana would already be gone and they'd be sending pieces of her to make their point."
"You don't know that," Tommy argues from across the table. "The Benedettis are desperate. Desperate men do desperate, stupid things."
"Which is exactly why we can't risk her life with a tactical assault." I stand, my decision made. "I'm going. Alone. That's final."
"Santino—" Dominic starts.
"This is my fault." My voice cracks slightly, the guilt flooding through me. "I should have gone to her hours ago when she texted me. I should have believed her. I didn't, and now she's in there because of my failure. I'm going to get her out."
Silence falls over the room, heavy and uncomfortable.
Dominic stares at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he nods slowly.
"You get her out alive," he says quietly, but the threat beneath the words is unmistakable. "Or don't come back at all."
"Understood, sir."
