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Vincenzo’s men had looked for days without any headway until they got something. 

The moment the intel came, he got up to leave to chase it. 

“I am going with you.” Kadie shouted from behind. Vincenzo, with squinted eyes, turned around to look at her.

“You can’t, Bellissimo. It's risky out there. I have lost Enzo; I will not take such with you.” Vincenzo held her shoulders and said.

“They have my son, Vincenzo LaRosa. I am not going to sit back like the pathetic little girl they have made me to be. I am going with you.” 

Kadie affirmed. 

Vincenzo saw that there was nothing more to say, so he gave up. 

“Stay behind me, always.” He brought his hand out to her, and she took it. 

“Can we go?” Camilla's voice came from behind.

“You too?” Vincenzo asked, a laughter creeping in across his face. These women…

“Me too.” Camilla said, looking over her shoulder. 

They hit the safe house at 2:13 a.m.

No warnings. No negotiations. Just three black SUVs tearing through the Krane hills, headlights off, moonlight slicing through the trees as Vincenzo gripped the wheel like it was a throat.

Behind him drove Pedro and the rest of his men. 

Kadie sat beside him, dressed in black, her hair pulled into a tight braid. Camilla was in the backseat, loading a pistol with practiced hands. No one had said a word in over twenty minutes.

"Last chance to back out," Vincenzo said, his eyes still on the dirt road ahead.

Kadie didn’t blink. "They didn’t give me a chance. I’m not giving them mercy."

He nodded once, jaw tight. She could see the storm in his eyes, the silent oath he’d made the second Enzo was taken. They were all breathing vengeance now.

Inside the safe house: five guards. Minimal security—too minimal. It smelled like bait.

Camilla’s voice crackled over the comm. "Either Antonio got cocky, or this is a decoy."

"Then we flush the rats and see what scatters," Vincenzo replied. His voice had gone cold. Deadly.

They arrived at 2:16. No alarms. No resistance—at first.

His men took the east wing. Vincenzo and Kadie stormed through the front. Camilla circled to cover the rear, her boots soundless over gravel.

The door shattered inward with a single kick. Inside, tile floors and marble counters gleamed under soft recessed lights. It looked like a place no one had lived in for weeks.

Then came the movement—a shadow at the end of the hall.

Shots rang out. Vincenzo dropped to one knee, firing with precision—two bullets, two bodies. Kadie ducked behind the kitchen counter and popped up, her aim steady. She squeezed the trigger, catching a man in the shoulder.

He screamed. She didn’t.

"You’ll scream louder if I don’t get answers," she said coldly, stepping over his body.

Another burst of gunfire echoed upstairs. Pedro’s voice returned: "Room clear. But there’s something you need to see."

They met in the master suite.

On the floor, next to an overturned suitcase, was a single red shoe.

Kadie’s heart stopped. She rushed forward, scooping it up with trembling hands.

"Is it his?" Vincenzo asked.

Kadie nodded slowly, her voice caught in her throat. "It’s his. He was here."

Camilla kicked open a nearby desk drawer and froze. "Jesus Christ."

Inside was a photograph—Enzo, blindfolded, holding a whiteboard with today’s date written across it.

Kadie nearly collapsed.

"He’s alive," she whispered. "They’re taunting us."

Vincenzo’s hands curled into fists. "No. They’re warning us."

Behind the photo was a USB drive. Camilla inserted it into her tablet. A grainy video played.

Antonio’s voice filled the room, smooth and venomous:

"You're willing to cross oceans for him, brother. But tell me—what happens when you reach the shore and find ashes?"

A beat.

"You had everything. And you chose her. You chose a whore and her bastard over your own blood.”

Kadie flinched, her grip tightening on the shoe.

Antonio’s voice dropped to a whisper.

"I’m going to make you watch, Vincenzo. And when you beg… I won’t let him die quickly."

The screen cut to black.

Silence.

Camilla stepped away like the video had physically burned her.

Kadie stood perfectly still, the shoe still in her hand. Her chest rose and fell, rage blooming beneath her skin.

Vincenzo turned toward the window. His voice was calm but deadly.

"Burn it."

Camilla blinked. "What?"

"The house. Burn it to the fucking ground."

No one argued.

By 2:43 a.m., the Krane safe house was in flames. Smoke curled into the sky, visible for miles, a signal and a promise.

Vincenzo stared at the fire, then turned to his men.

"This ends in blood."

Kadie didn’t look away from the flames. Not once.

The storm hadn’t passed—not in the sky, and certainly not inside Vincenzo.

Rain lashed against the windows of the Brione estate, echoing the tension seeping into every room. The fire crackled weakly in the hearth as Vincenzo stood in front of it, soaked to the skin and unmoving.

He hadn’t spoken since returning from the raid. His knuckles were still bloodied from punching a wall when they found nothing but empty crates and scorched files.

Kadie sat on the couch, eyes hollow, her hands still trembling despite the blanket around her. Her lips moved in silent prayers—or curses. She didn’t know which anymore.

“Sir,” Marco entered cautiously, lowering his voice. “Someone’s here. Says he knows where the boy is.”

Vincenzo turned slowly. “Who?”

“He says his name is Artemus... Ceballos.”

Kadie’s head snapped up. “Artemus? As in—”

They turned as Artemus stepped in—dressed in a soaked trench coat, his hair slicked back from the rain, a calm expression on his face despite the tension.

He looked older than the last time either of them had seen him. Gaunt. Measured. Dangerous, but not reckless. A man who had spent too long in the grey area between loyalty and self-preservation.

“I’m not here to play games,” he said, eyes flicking between them. “I’m here because Alejandra has gone too far.”

Vincenzo stared. “You’re siding with me now?”

“I’m not siding with anyone. I’m balancing the scales.”

Kadie stood, disbelief etched across her face. “Where’s Enzo?”

Artemus exhaled. “They’re moving him tonight. There’s a plane waiting in Liguria. They want to hand him over to Eladio Duarte—one of Antonio’s old partners.”

“Duarte?” Vincenzo said coldly. “That snake is still alive?”

“Alive and eager,” Artemus replied. “He’s building something new. Alejandra and Antonio promised Enzo as leverage—a bargaining chip for territory in Seville.”

Kadie’s knees gave, but she caught herself on the table. “He’s just a boy. He doesn’t understand any of this.”

Artemus’s jaw clenched. “That’s why I’m here.”

Vincenzo walked forward until they stood almost nose to nose. “If this is a trap, I will kill you slowly.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

Silence settled for a moment.

Vincenzo turned. “Pedro—prep the jet. We leave in twenty minutes.”

“No jet,” Artemus said sharply. “The airport in Liguria is watched. I can get you close, but you’ll need to go dark. Fast car, no phones.”

Pedro nodded and left with urgency.

Vincenzo glanced at Kadie. “You’re not coming.”

“The hell I’m not.”

“This isn’t a debate.”

She walked up to him, eyes blazing despite the exhaustion. “You lost your son. I lost my son. And I will die before I let them put him on that plane. So either you take me, or I find another way to follow.”

Artemus raised an eyebrow. “She’s as stubborn as you.”

Vincenzo bit back the urge to argue. He grabbed his coat. “Listen to me, Bellissimo. This is not a regular scene. I am not allowing you out there. You will stay here and wait for us to return.”

Kadie didn’t blink. “Fine.” 

She gave up.

As the two men strode into the storm outside, Artemus paused near the SUV and turned to Vincenzo. “Just so you know… Alejandra doesn’t know I’m doing this.”

Vincenzo narrowed his eyes. “What changed?”

Artemus looked back at the door they had just walked out from.

“He’s a child,” he said quietly. “Not a pawn.”