Sold To The Mafia Don

Chapter 232: 42 ~ Jace

Hospitals had a way of swallowing time. Hours dissolved into white walls, soft footsteps, and the steady beep of machines that seemed too calm for what was happening.

Mira hadn’t opened her eyes yet.

Every minute she stayed still felt like a knife dragging through my ribs. But she was breathing, and for now, that was the thread holding me together.

Donna sat on one side of her bed, fingers threading through Mira’s hair in long, soothing strokes. Her eyes were red, but her posture remained firm. She was a mother guarding another mother.

Roberto sat on the other side, head bowed, shoulders shaking every now and then when he thought no one noticed. He blamed himself. I didn’t correct him. Not yet.

I stood at the foot of the bed, hands in my pockets because if I didn’t keep them there, I’d break something. Or someone.

My daughter slept in the NICU, monitored closely. Too small to understand anything, too precious to ever know what was done to bring her into the world.

I forced my gaze away from Mira’s face and checked my phone for the tenth time in as many minutes.

Unanswered messages from Tomas poured in, updates arriving faster than I could read them.

Gate 1 secured.

Drone sweep complete.

Two suspects detained.

More intel incoming.

Old contacts activated.

The city’s underground was churning.

Good.

I needed it to churn.

I needed people scared.

I needed the scent of fear to spread like smoke.

I turned toward the door.

"Jace."

Donna’s voice was quiet, but commanding.

I paused.

She studied me in a way only mothers could — as if she saw the storm moving behind my eyes before I even acknowledged it.

"Your place is here," she said softly.

"My place is protecting them," I answered. "I can’t do that from this room."

"Don’t confuse revenge with protection," she warned.

She didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t have to.

I stepped closer to Mira, brushing my knuckles against her arm the way she always liked. She didn’t move. Her stillness pushed air out of my lungs.

"For me?" I murmured. "This isn’t revenge. This is prevention."

Roberto looked up, eyes wet, jaw clenched. "Jace... you shouldn’t be the one out there alone."

I stiffened. Alone.

No.

I wasn’t alone.

I had an army.

But the hunt... that part was mine.

When I stepped back from the bed, Mira’s fingers twitched. Just a tiny movement, but enough to tear something open inside me. I leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"I’ll be back," I whispered. "I’ll be back with answers."

I turned again, heading for the door.

Donna’s voice followed me once more.

"I’ll stay," she said. "Go. But come back to her."

That was her blessing.

Wrapped in warning.

I nodded once, then stepped out of the room.

~~~

The elevator doors closed and the moment they did, the mask slid into place.

Softness gone.

Warmth gone.

The version of me that held Mira was folded away.

What remained was the man the underworld remembered.

My phone vibrated constantly as I walked through the parking structure.

Every corner of the city was shifting.

Every connection was activating.

Every old favor being cashed in.

I pressed the speaker button.

"Tomas."

His voice came out strained. "Boss, we’ve already picked up six men from Castillo’s old network. They know nothing."

"They always know something," I said.

"Yes, but they’re scared. They said the orders didn’t come from anyone familiar."

That was unexpected.

"And the message?" I asked. "The one sent to her phone?"

"We traced the signal. Burner. No prints. It bounced through four servers. Whoever did it knew how to cover their tracks."

"Push harder."

"We’re already doing that," he said. "But there’s something else."

I could hear the unease in his voice.

"Say it." I urged him through gritted teeth

"We found prints on the railing at the venue."

My pulse stilled. "Who?"

He swallowed audibly. "Female. Not on our system. Too clean."

Not Isabella. Her arrogance wouldn’t have allowed her to hide so well. She wanted attention. She wanted recognition.

This... was different.

"Keep digging," I said. "I want a name tonight."

"Yes, boss."

I ended the call.

My car waited at the curb — black, bulletproof, reinforced. Two guards opened the door as I approached.

"Where to?" one of them asked.

"Headquarters," I said. "Call everyone in. No excuses."

"Yes, sir."

~~~

The city flew past the window, lights smearing into streaks. People walked down sidewalks with their lives untouched by this nightmare. I envied them for a moment — their simplicity, their ignorance.

But only for a moment.

The car pulled up to the private building I used for operations — a nondescript space that looked like an abandoned warehouse from the outside.

Inside was a different world.

My world.

The door opened, and every man inside rose to their feet.

Not one of them spoke.

Good.

Words were useless tonight.

I stepped inside the room with walls covered in screens — maps, surveillance feeds, hacked CCTV paths, red markers showing possible hideouts, blue markers showing people we needed to interrogate.

The air smelled like tension and steel.

Tomas walked toward me, tablet in hand. His face was ashen from lack of sleep.

"Everything’s ready," he said.

"Show me."

He tapped the screen.

"Twelve suspects. Five women. Seven men. Lower ranks, though. Nothing high enough to orchestrate an attack of this scale."

"So where’s the mastermind?"

"We’re still sweeping."

I stared at the board.

The strings.

The circles.

The faces.

The timestamps.

So many routes converging at one point — the night Mira was attacked.

Someone planned it flawlessly.

Someone watched her long enough to predict her movements.

Someone wanted her hurt.

Not dead but hurt. And that was a different kind of cruelty.

Tomas hesitated beside me. "Boss... should we request help from your mother’s side? Donna has connections—"

"No."

I didn’t let him finish.

He knew not to argue.

"Bring me the woman you picked up earlier," I said.

"She’s waiting in the interrogation room."

I adjusted my sleeves and walked.

Each step felt like sandpaper scraping along stone — controlled, deliberate, quiet.

My silence made the men around me tense. They were used to orders. They weren’t used to this... calm.

Because they knew what it meant.

When I got angry, I broke things.

When I got quiet, I destroyed entire networks.

The interrogation room door opened.

A woman sat inside, chained lightly to the chair. She wasn’t the attacker. She was too young and too inexperienced but she worked for someone who was.

She looked up, eyes shaking when she saw me.

"Mr. Romano—"

I closed the door behind me.

The click of the lock sounded too gentle for what I was feeling.

"You follow instructions, don’t you?" I asked, sitting across from her.

She nodded quickly.

"Good," I said. "Follow this one closely."

Her breath hitched.

"You’re going to tell me everything you know. And you’re going to do it now."

She shook her head frantically. "I—I don’t know anything about the attack. I swear—"

"You do," I said calmly. "Maybe not much. But enough."

Her pulse jumped in her neck.

Fear.

Good.

"You were at the venue," I said. "We have footage."

"I wasn’t part of anything! I was just—"

"Watching," I finished. "You were watching her."

Her lip trembled.

I leaned forward, voice dropping to a quiet threat. I didn’t have to shout.

"Someone sent you. We can do this the easy way, or the honest way."

She swallowed, eyes darting to the one-way glass.

She was calculating.

Feeling the walls closing in.

Finally, her shoulders slumped.

"There was a man," she whispered.

My focus sharpened instantly.

"A man," I repeated. "Describe him."

She shook her head. "He... he never showed his face. He reached out through someone else. A woman. She’s the one who contacted us."

My chest tightened.

"Name."

"I—I don’t know her real name. She just went by ’Ivy.’"

"Description."

"Tall. Black hair. Sharp voice. Very expensive shoes."

Not Isabella.

Not someone familiar.

Someone new.

Someone dangerous.

"Where can I find her?"

The woman hesitated.

I let silence settle between us like a blade.

She cracked.

"She meets her people at an old riverside warehouse. On 48th. But she changes locations every week. Today might be the last time she goes there." freeweɓnøvel.com

My jaw tightened.

"Then I’m leaving now."

I stood.

The woman sagged in her chair, relieved it was over.

She didn’t understand it wasn’t over.

Not yet.

Tomas met me outside the room.

"You believe her?" he asked.

"Yes."

"What’s the plan?"

I buttoned my jacket.

"We hit the warehouse. Quietly. If she’s there, we take her alive."

"And if she resists?"

I looked him dead in the eye.

"She won’t."

—

As the team assembled and we headed toward the convoy, the night air felt colder, sharper, the kind of cold that preceded a storm.

Before stepping into my car, I sent one text to Donna:

Jace: Call me if she wakes up.

Almost immediately, she replied.

Donna: We will guard her. Go do what you must.

I put my phone away and climbed inside.

The engine hummed to life.

The convoy moved like a shadow across the asphalt.

The hunt had begun.

And for the first time in hours...

I felt something close to steady.

Because hurting me was one thing.

But hurting Mira?

That was unforgivable.

And whoever touched her was about to learn exactly how unforgivable.