Michael

Michael
“There’s something wrong at the ladies’ club.” Daniel enters my office.
“What happened?” I stand, grabbing the gun from the drawer.
“Kai already went there with a team, but the cameras were turned off, and we can’t reach the guards who were in charge of the place.”
“Damn it!” I punch the door.

I run out of the building, giving orders to everyone. Using my phone, I track Hope—she’s still at the location. I jump into the car, Daniel beside me and Trent in the van; we load our weapons while trying to assess the situation at the club. No communication. I call my wife, but she doesn’t answer.

The location starts moving—they’re leaving. I don’t waste time heading to the club; I order everyone to follow Hope’s signal.
“Kai has arrived,” Daniel hands me the phone.
“It’s a complete mess here. They used sleeping gas through the ventilation, sprayed it throughout the building. The guards, staff, and women gathered there—all asleep.”
“Where’s Hope and my sister?”
“Emily, our mothers and sisters are asleep in the main hall. But no sign of Hope.”
“I’ll send you the tracker’s location. Intercept the vehicle, but don’t kill my wife.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“I want all New York soldiers following the signal. Close the highways so they can’t escape. Send all helicopters and drones to patrol everywhere. Call the capos and have them stop whatever they’re doing immediately. This is a maximum alert—Hope will be found today, alive.”
“Yes, Boss!”

I hang up. Daniel fiddles with the tablet and hands it to me, showing city security cameras tracking the bastards. A convoy of ten cars in total—I can’t see Hope or anyone inside except the driver and bodyguards, but a symbol catches my attention.
“Isn’t that the mark of the mercenaries who were after Ícaro?” I point at the emblem engraved on the hood of one car: a scratched shield with a sword through it.
“That’s them,” Daniel opens another file with information about the group. “We can find where they’ll hide—they know leaving the state is impossible now.”
“Get out of the car!” Trent shouts.

I look ahead just in time to see a missile coming at us. I open the door and throw myself out. I roll, forearms shielding my face as the impact throws me meters from the exploding car amid traffic.

A car stops five centimeters from my face. Agile, I get up; a bullet hits near my foot, and I hide behind the vehicle that almost ran me over. I scan for shooters—four are coming at me.

I stay crouched, move to the back of the car, pull my Glock 9mm, and fire. I hit the first one; a shot not from my gun hits another, revealing the shooter. Daniel hides behind a building, firing and covering me. With his help, I get off the road and take cover beside him. Guards from other cars start shooting at more enemies.

“Trent,” I call over the communicator—no response. “Damn it, answer!”
“Trent blew up with the car, Boss,” someone replies.
“Shit.”
“If he hadn’t warned us,” Daniel crouches against a wall, changing his gun’s magazine while bullets fly—“we wouldn’t have reacted fast enough to jump from the cars.”
“He was a good soldier, damn it.” I kick the wall. “I lost my phone in the fall—do you have it?”
“Here,” he hands it to me, “but I don’t have Hope’s location.”
“I’ll get Simon to send me what he has; for now, Kai must be on their tail.”
“I’ll keep killing these bastards.” He fires.

I call Simon; he picks up immediately and sends Daniel the current location of Hope from all five devices, informing me that Kai’s team was attacked while chasing the convoy on the Manhattan Bridge, which mercenaries completely blocked.
“I’ll need the helicopter. I’ll clear a landing path—send it immediately.”
“Yes, sir. Andrew Bianchi is speaking with the Governor right now; he said we have full police support, and patrols are being sent for your protection.”
“Good.”

At least this bastard is useful. If the police interfered, it would delay reaching Hope. It takes about twenty minutes to neutralize the bastards; survivors are taken for interrogation. It’s suspicious that the same mercenary group involved in the attack on Ícaro when he was going to give me information on Samuel may be behind Hope’s kidnapping.

I board the helicopter with Daniel; her signal remains in a cluster of houses in Brooklyn.
“This is Lucian territory,” Daniel says. “Kai told me most houses have underground passages connecting tunnels used during the 1920 Prohibition. We used them for illegal alcohol transport.”
“If he plans to use the tunnels, he must know where they go. How would that bastard have access to our organization’s routes?”
“Someone betrayed us. How far can Hope’s trackers work without losing signal?”
“Three kilometers.”
“We can follow their route; the tunnels are 300 meters underground.” He shows me the blueprints. “It’d be better if Kai were with us; he knows everything by heart.”
“We got him on the bridge. How’s it there?” I ask via communicator.
“Kai Lucian is causing chaos—blew up sections of the bridge with a bazooka. We’re dealing with fifty enemies with heavy artillery.”
“Hard to control the press on this,” Daniel says. “Let’s call it a terrorist attack.”
“We’re reporting it,” they reply. “Andrew Bianchi just issued a statement next to the Governor: domestic terrorism aimed at overthrowing the government.”
“They removed two trackers.” I fear they’ll find the others before I can reach her. “Damn it!”

She’s still in the same place; I have less than thirty minutes. I need to get there in time and ensure Hope isn’t hurt. While flying, I monitor the bridge; I need Kai.

Only he knows the Brooklyn tunnels well enough to move freely, avoid ambushes, and recognize traps. It’s his family’s territory—I must act carefully. Losing the woman I love is not an option.

We land on the bridge within the perimeter cordon. Kai enters the helicopter carrying a rifle, his face covered in soot and blood. A head wound drips down his face. We fly again, reinforcements following by land and helicopters. I grab the first aid kit; he lies down, exhausted, while I clean and bandage his head wound.
“They got you good,” Daniel observes.
“A damn missile blew up the car. I was still jumping when the flames reached me. Spent another of my seven lives.”
“How many left?” I ask, forgetting the count.
“Four—should reach fifty.” He rises, brushing off his legs. “Did you contact Black?”
“No, I had Bellamy move the capos to lock down the state; he should have spoken to the Bonnarros.”
“And Trent?” I look around, not seeing my loyal soldier.
“Dead—missile.”
“Shit, he was a good soldier.”
“Listen up,” I cut the line so only they hear me. “I don’t want to capture Samuel. Shoot on sight. No interrogation, not a word. Understood?”
“Does he have lethal intel?” Daniel asks, our code for an enemy who might know something that could harm us or our families. Normally, we interrogate first, but if Samuel’s after Hope and could know the truth about her, I can’t risk him talking.
“Not sure, but I won’t risk it.”
“We’ll order soldiers: Hope’s safety is priority; shoot to kill any threat.”
“Exactly.”
“I’ve wanted to smash that idiot’s face for ages,” Kai snaps his fingers. “Who does he think he is messing with our Boss’s woman?”
“A dead man.”

We continue planning. Kai gives tunnel intel, confirming that location is one of the most hidden—known only to some family members and perhaps other capos active during Prohibition. Sunset approaches; soldiers are spread across the terrain. From a third-floor window, I see Hope glance outside before running across the room.
“Did she try to escape?” Daniel asks, observing with binoculars.
“Not the first time,” Kai replies.
“Hope is trained to escape alone, but it still scares me,” I confess. “We need to be quick.”

I mobilize the team; my men arrive gradually. Bellamy and Louis bring heavy artillery. Nathan and Tyron Belarc block highways, positioning at tunnel exits with the death squad. Bartolomeu and Black arrive in New York, eliminating mercenary reinforcements.

Samuel is now isolated, no escape routes. We’ll storm the house in ten minutes, above and below, leaving him no time to breathe. The kill order stands, though I told them I wanted him alive for interrogation, not intending to follow it—I trust my friends to end the miserable bastard.

I don’t need answers, only my wife safe. To do that, I’ll destroy anyone in my way. Hope will be home safe before dinner; all threats neutralized.

I cock the semi-automatic, put on an earpiece, and start the operation. Soldiers fire tear gas, creating a smoke screen and stunning unprotected enemies. I leave them guarding the entrance, entering step by step, gun ready.

I open the house door—guards react to gunfire and smoke, moving. I shoot, killing five at once. Daniel covers me as I advance down the corridor; a shot through a window hits a soldier turning toward us. Kai covers as sniper.
“Go ahead, the upper corridor is clear,” he warns.

I send a team ahead. According to Hope’s location, she should be on the third floor. We open each door—no sign of her. I check the tracker, moving upstairs with Daniel behind and two soldiers in front.
“They’re not on the terrace. Watch the fourth floor,” Kai warns. “I don’t have vision.”

The lead soldier falls from a headshot while looking down the hallway.
“We found her, sir,” the other says, using a mirror to see. “Two soldiers and Samuel holding Mrs. Bianchi with a knife to her neck. He looks injured, with blood-soaked bandages around his neck.”
“Deploy the gas,” I order. “Remember what I said,” I tell Daniel. “Do it, even if you die.”
“I’m ready,” he nods. “But I’ll return alive—I won’t hurt Emily.”

I really don’t understand this bastard—how can he think it’s bad for her when he constantly worries about not hurting her? I face forward; gas is thrown, bullets fly. They won’t let us approach. Hope’s scream reaches me; I advance. Daniel grabs my arm, throwing me against a wall.
“If you go now, you’ll be hit! Stay focused—he’s baiting you!”
“We need an alternate route.” I squeeze his arm; her scream grows, blinding and deafening me. I can’t stay still.
“I’ll go,” a soldier says. “Use me as a shield, sir. The bullets will hit me; you’ll be fine.”
“When they reload, we move in,” Daniel informs.

Her screams throw me back to childhood when Andrew hurt my mother. I couldn’t do anything, and now, running into a hail of bullets, I might die before reaching her. Desperation clouds my mind—I must stay focused or lose the woman I love.

“Breach that damn wall,” I tell them, regaining calm. “If we can’t go through the corridor, we break everything.”
“I have grenades,” another soldier joins, handing me what I need.

We set grenades on the wall, enough to make a hole, and detonate. Gunfire intensifies as we break through rooms. If they realize we’re arriving, they may change tactics. The house shakes; the floor threatens to collapse. We stop two meters from her—but still don’t see her.

“We’ll settle this ourselves, Bianchi,” the bastard’s voice cuts through; gunfire stops. “Just you and me. What do you say?”
“Let her go!” I shout.

The soldiers explode another wall. Behind the smoke, I see Hope, hiding behind Samuel, who holds her with one arm. They moved from the corridor into a room. The soldiers shooting were decoys to kill me when I went for her.

I point the gun at his head.