Chapter 21 Ren
Ren
I step out of Amelia’s room and let the door close quietly behind me. I keep my expression neutral until the latch clicks into place. The moment the sound fades, the calm leaves my face, turning almost lethal.
Matteo is leaning against the wall a few feet away. He studies me the way he always does when something is wrong.
He exhales. “What happened?”
“I’m going after the Russians.”
The words come out steady.
Matteo straightens. “Because of the Captain? You do know that if you start a war with the Russians, it’s going to be bloody.”
“I know.”
He watches me for a second longer. “But you’re willing to risk it all for the Captain? You sure you don’t like her?”
I look at him without blinking. “Shut up, Matteo. I need to find out what their motive was and if the General really double crossed his own people.”
He tilts his head slightly. He does not look convinced.
“I see,” he says slowly. “Let’s go.”
“No. You’re staying here. Keep an eye on Amelia so she doesn’t do something stupid.”
His eyes widen. “What the fuck, Luca? I’m not a babysitter.”
“Stay.” My voice drops. Firm, controlled and leaving no room for arguments. “That’s not a suggestion.”
He clenches his jaw. He hates when I give him orders like that. He hates it more when he knows I am right.
I don't wait for another complaint. I turn and walk down the corridor.
The hospital is quiet. Too quiet. Nurses move past me with polite smiles. Machines beep steadily behind closed doors. Everything feels clean and calm.
It irritates me.
Someone tried to kill her. And the world continues like nothing happened.
I step outside. The night air is cold. I pull out my phone and send a single message to the inner circle.
Meeting house. Now.
No explanation. They know better than to ask for one.
By the time I reach my car, replies start coming in.
Rayhan: On my way.
Enzo: Fifteen minutes.
Marco: I will be there.
Alessandro: Understood.
I drive without music. The city lights blur past the windshield. My mind stays focused on one thing. The Russians were prepared. They had information. That does not happen by chance and I would know.
Information comes from someone powerful. Someone protected.
And there is only one man who stands high enough above that operation to make it disappear from records.
The General.
Her father.
If he sold her out for leverage or strategy or to make way for her brother, then he has crossed a line that cannot be uncrossed.
The meeting house stands at the edge of the city.
I park in the courtyard and walk in.
They are already gathered in the main room.
Rayhan Ferraro stands near the window, arms crossed. He looks restless. Angry. He lost men in that raid. He has not forgiven it.
Enzo Ricci sits at the table with a glass of water in front of him. Calm and polished.
Marco Bellini stands against the wall. Silently watching. His hands are clasped behind his back. He looks ready to kill someone and go home.
Alessandro Vitale sits at the far end of the table. Straight posture. Calm eyes. He watches me quietly.
I take the head chair and sit.
"We're going after the Russians." I say once I sit.
No one speaks at first.
Rayhan breaks the silence. “You’re fucking kidding me. The Russians? You want to start a fucking war with the Russians?”
“I’m not starting a war with the Russians,” I say evenly. “Just one Russian mob.”
Rayhan lets out a sharp laugh. “It doesn’t change a thing, Ren. You attack one Russian mob, they all come after us. Porca puttana, sei fuori di testa?” He shakes his head. “Holy fuck, have you lost your mind?”
Marco doesn't laugh. He watches me carefully, unusually quiet and calm.
Enzo folds his hands. “I think we need to think this through carefully, Ren.”
Alessandro remains silent.
“They went after the Captain,” I say.
All eyes stare at me in shock and bewilderment.
Rayhan’s anger turns sharp. Marco’s eyes narrow. Enzo stops moving entirely.
“They were too prepared,” I continue. “They knew positions. They knew timing. That means someone informed them.”
“From inside,” Marco says quietly.
“Yes.”
Rayhan runs a hand over his face. “So what is your plan? Storm in and go on a shooting spree?”
“My plan,” I say calmly, “is to take one of their lieutenants. Quietly. We make him talk.”
Enzo nods slightly. “That is different from open retaliation.”
“It still sends a message,” Rayhan mutters.
Alessandro finally speaks. His voice is calm, almost thoughtful. “And what exactly are you hoping he will confirm?”
“That the Russians did not act alone,” I answer. “Someone cleared the way for them. Someone with influence.”
Alessandro studies me. “You suspect the General.”
“I suspect someone at his level, yes.”
Rayhan scoffs. “If that is true, then this is bigger than dockyards and territory.”
“I am aware.”
Marco steps forward slightly. “Give me a name and I will bring him to you.”
There is no hesitation in his voice.
“That is why you are not in charge,” Enzo says dryly.
Marco doesn't react. Again, unusually quiet and calm. I'll address it later.
Rayhan looks at me again. “You are doing this because she almost died. For the same Captain you keep insisting you feel nothing for.”
“Yes.”
“And that is all?”
“Yes.”
Alessandro leans back slightly. “No, it is not.”
The room goes quiet again.
He meets my eyes without fear. “You are reacting personally. That is dangerous.”
“I am reacting strategically,” I reply dryly.
He gives a faint smile. “You're lying to yourself, Ren. Not to us.”
I don't answer that.
Instead, I stand and walk to the table where a map of the dock district is laid out.
“They move shipments through this route every Thursday night,” I say. “One of their captains supervises. Light escort. Predictable pattern.”
Rayhan steps closer. “You have been tracking them.”
“I don't like surprises.”
Enzo nods. “If we intercept on the road, we reduce witnesses.”
Marco speaks quietly. “No guns unless necessary. Fast extraction.”
“Yes,” I say. “Two vehicles. Block from front and back. We take him to the secondary location.”
Rayhan exhales sharply. “Madonna santa. Holy Mother of God.”
Alessandro folds his hands on the table. “And when the Russians realize one of their captains has vanished?”
“They will investigate,” I say. “They will suspect many things. But they won't have proof.”
Enzo looks at me carefully. “And if the General is involved?”
I hold his gaze. “Then we deal with that when we confirm it.”
Marco’s expression does not change, but I see the tension in his jaw.
Rayhan shakes his head slowly. “You are poking something that could explode in our faces and all this for that Captain”
“Then we make sure we are not standing in front of it,” I reply, ignoring the rest of his statement.
Silence fills the room again.
Finally, Alessandro nods once. “If we do this, we do it clean. No public spectacle. No unnecessary casualties.”
“Agreed.”
Rayhan sighs heavily. “Fine. But if this spirals, I will remind you that I warned you, more than once.”
“You can remind me later,” I say.
Marco steps forward. “When do we move?”
“Tonight.”
All of them look at me.
Enzo raises an eyebrow. “Immediate action.”
“Yes.”
Alessandro studies me one last time, then nods slowly. “Very well.”
I look around the table. “You can walk away.”
Rayhan scoffs. “We are not walking away.”
Marco simply nods.
Enzo sighs. “Let us hope this is worth it.”
Alessandro stands. “It will either stabilize everything or destroy something important.”
“I know,” I say.
They move to prepare. Weapons are checked. Phones are wiped. Routes are reviewed.
I remain by the table for a moment.
Amelia’s face comes to mind. Pale, angry and suspicious. She thinks she is imagining the worst.
She is not.
If her father betrayed her, then I will make sure he regrets it.
I take out my phone and message Matteo.
Keep her inside. Don't let her leave the floor, for any reason.
He replies quickly.
She already tried to argue.
I allow myself a faint smile.
Of course she did.
I put the phone away and head for the door.
Tonight we take a man who knows too much.
And when he speaks, I will know whether this is about territory, power, or a father who decided his daughter was expendable.
If it is the last one, then this city is about to learn that I do not forgive betrayal.
Not even from a General.
Marco follows me out first. Rayhan and Enzo are right behind him. Alessandro walks last, quiet as always, observing everything. Well, I'm not surprised, he's my Consigliere after all.
We move through the corridor of the house and into the underground garage. The air smells like oil and metal. Fluorescent lights hum above us. Two black SUVs wait near the exit.
Marco opens the trunk of the first vehicle and checks the contents again. Duct tape. Zip ties. Extra plates. Two unregistered phones. A medical kit. He doesn't speak while he works.
Rayhan loads weapons with sharp, irritated movements. He slams a magazine into place harder than necessary.
“You look tense,” Enzo says mildly as he adjusts his cuffs.
Rayhan glares at him. “We are about to kidnap a Russian captain and you are worried about my mood?”
“I am always worried about your mood,” Enzo replies. “It tends to create paperwork.”
Rayhan mutters something under his breath.
I step closer to the hood of the car and spread the printed route map across it.
“We intercept here,” I say, pointing to a narrow stretch of road before the docks. “There is a traffic light. It gives us thirty seconds of natural delay.”
Marco nods once. “I take front block.”
“Okay.”
“Second vehicle?” Enzo asks.
“Rayhan drives. Alessandro with him. I will be in the front car.”
Rayhan looks at me. “Of course you will.”
“Yes.”
Alessandro studies the map carefully. “Their escort pattern?”
“Two cars. Four men total. The captain sits rear passenger side.”
“And you are certain of this.”
“Yes.”
He gives a small nod. “Then timing is everything.”
Marco closes the trunk. “We move now.”
We get into position.
The drive to the docks is quiet. The city grows rougher as we move closer to the water. Warehouses replace apartments. Streetlights become fewer. The air smells like salt and rust.
I check the time.
Two minutes.
My phone vibrates once. A message from one of our watchers stationed near the Russian warehouse.
Target vehicle left five minutes ago. On schedule.
I lower the phone and focus on the road ahead.
Marco drives with steady hands.
“You are very calm,” he says finally.
“I am thinking.”
“About her.”
I glance at him.
“I am thinking about the leak,” I correct.
He doesn't argue. He simply nods.
Behind us, Rayhan’s SUV follows at a measured distance.
We approach the traffic light. It turns red as predicted.
And there they are.
A dark sedan pulls up to the light from the opposite direction. Another vehicle follows behind it. Tinted windows. Clean plates.
Marco eases our SUV forward and cuts in front of the sedan at an angle. Not aggressive. Just enough to block the lane when the light changes.
The light turns green.
Marco doesn't move.
Behind us, Rayhan’s SUV pulls up tight against the rear of the Russian escort vehicle.
The road is narrow. There is no space to maneuver.
I open my door before the Russian driver understands what is happening.
Marco is already out.
We move fast.
I walk straight to the rear passenger door of the sedan and open it.
The captain inside reaches for something under his jacket.
I grab his wrist and twist it hard enough to make him drop it. A small pistol falls to the floor of the car.
Marco pulls the driver out and shoves him face first against the hood. Rayhan and Alessandro handle the rear escort. Enzo stays near the second vehicle, watching the street.
“Quiet,” I tell the captain.
He tries to shout.
Marco presses the driver’s face harder into the metal. “Don't even think about it.”
It happens in less than twenty seconds.
Zip ties secure wrists. Tape over mouths. Hoods pulled over heads.
A passing truck slows slightly, then keeps driving. No one wants to get involved near the docks at night.
We drag the captain into our SUV.
Marco gets back behind the wheel immediately. Rayhan’s vehicle peels off in the opposite direction to scatter any attention.
Inside the car, the Russian struggles against the restraints. He makes a muffled sound.
I remove the tape from his mouth.
“If you shout,” I say calmly, “I will break your jaw before you finish.”
He stares at me. His breathing is fast.
“You have five seconds to decide whether you want to cooperate.”
He swallows.
“What do you want?” he asks in accented English.
“Information.”
“You think this is smart?” he replies. “You have no idea who you're touching.”
I hold his gaze. “I know exactly who I am touching.”
Marco turns down a side road toward our secondary location. An old storage facility we control under a shell company.
“You were prepared for the military ambush,” I continue. “You had information that was not public.”
He says nothing.
“Who gave it to you?”
“I don't know what you are talking about.”
I sigh softly.
Marco parks inside the warehouse and kills the engine.
We pull the Russian out and drag him inside.
The interior is empty except for a single metal chair bolted to the floor.
Marco pushes him into it and secures his ankles.
Alessandro steps forward slowly. He watches the man carefully.
“You are Captain Viktor Sokolov,” Alessandro says in fluent Russian. “You supervise dock transfers. You do not make high level political decisions.”
The man’s eyes flicker.
“I ask again,” I say. “Who gave you clearance to target that operation.”
He looks at me with open defiance.
“You think this is about you?” he asks. “You are small.” It's obvious he has no idea who I am.
Marco steps forward and grips his shoulder tightly. Not enough to injure. Just enough to remind him of the situation.
I crouch slightly so we are eye level.
“This is not about me,” I say quietly. “It is about who told you that Captain Amelia Russo would be there.”
His expression changes for a fraction of a second.
That is all I need.
“You knew,” I continue. “You knew she would lead that team.”
He stays silent now.
Rayhan folds his arms. “We can do this the easy way or the loud way.”
Enzo speaks calmly. “You are far from your friends. They don't know where you are.”
Alessandro tilts his head slightly. “And if this was a misunderstanding, you can clear it up right now.”
The Russian looks at each of us in turn.
“You think this is about territory,” he says finally. “It is not.”
“Then explain it,” I reply.
He hesitates.
Marco leans in closer. “Careful.”
The Russian’s breathing grows heavier.
“You are looking in the wrong direction,” he says.
“Then point me in the right one.”
He looks straight at me.
“Ask her family,” he says quietly.
The room goes still.
Rayhan shifts his weight. Enzo’s expression tightens. Marco’s grip on the chair hardens.
Alessandro watches me.
I don't react.
“What about her family?” I ask.
The Russian smiles faintly despite the situation.
“You are not the only one who protects what belongs to you,” he says.
I hold his gaze.
“Be very careful,” I tell him.
He laughs once. Nervous and forced.
“You are already too late.”
Marco moves slightly, but I raise a hand.
Not yet.
I stand slowly.
“Lock him in,” I say calmly. “No visible damage. I want him talking clearly.”
Marco nods.
As the others secure the room, Alessandro steps closer to me.
“He confirmed it,” he says quietly.
“Yes.”
“This is personal.”
“Yes.”
He studies my face.
“You understand what this means.”
I look toward the restrained Russian.
“Yes,” I say.
It means this was never just about the docks.
It means someone inside her own bloodline may have set this in motion.
And if that is true, then tonight is only the beginning and Amelia is in danger.