Sold To The Mafia Don

Chapter 233: 43 ~ Jace

The city looked different at night.

Most people didn’t notice it — the shift in temperature, the way sound changed, the way shadows bent. But I’d lived too many lives in this darkness to pretend it was silent. Cities talked at night. They whispered secrets and warnings. Tonight was no different.

But I wasn’t listening for secrets.

I was hunting.

Our convoy rolled through the industrial district just before midnight, engines muted, lights dimmed. The warehouse sat near the edge of the river. It was an old brick structure that once held shipping cargo before being abandoned. Now it was used by people who wanted to disappear.

Fitting.

Two SUVs flanked mine. Inside each were men trained well enough to follow orders without asking for explanations. This wasn’t a diplomacy mission. This was a retrieval. A warning shot. A message written in fear.

Tomas delivered the final layout as we parked. "Ground floor has four entrances. North side scaffold suggests recent activity upstairs. Heat signatures show at least three people inside."

Three.

Three was manageable.

"Any sign of a lookout?" I asked.

"None. Which... is strange."

Strange, yes.

But not unexpected.

When someone wanted to lure a wolf out, they always hid the obvious bait.

I stepped out of the car. My boots hit gravel silently. A cold breeze drifted from the river, carrying the sharp scent of rust. Old lights flickered over the loading dock, throwing uneven shadows along the concrete.

I adjusted the gun holster beneath my jacket. I rarely carried weapons now — Mira hated seeing them anywhere near me — but tonight wasn’t about comfort. Tonight was about answers.

"Positions," I ordered quietly.

Within seconds, the team moved.

Two flanked the east entrance.

Three took the back.

Another two circled toward the roofline.

Tomas stood beside me, waiting for my signal.

"That woman inside," he said. "If she’s the messenger—"

"She talks," I cut in. "Or she doesn’t leave."

He nodded.

We approached the main door. It was a metal slab covered in peeling paint. Tomas knelt, checked the lock, then stepped aside.

"Ready?" he murmured.

I didn’t answer.

I pushed the door open myself.

It creaked, echoing into the dark warehouse.

Inside, the air was cold and stale. Dust swirled under the faint glow of a single overhead bulb. Crates lined the walls, some cracked open, others sealed tight. Footsteps shuffled somewhere deeper within.

Movement.

I stepped inside fully, letting the shadows swallow me.

A low hum of a generator vibrated through the floor. Water dripped steadily from a busted pipe. The place looked abandoned, yet lived in. There were signs of someone passing through quickly.

"Boss," Tomas whispered, pointing toward the back stairwell.

A faint light flickered from upstairs.

We moved.

Each step was controlled, balanced. We reached the metal stairs, climbing without noise. As we approached the next floor, voices drifted out.

Two women.

One young.

One older.

The older one had the harder voice which was sharp and precise.

Ivy.

She sounded exactly like the description.

"You said she was supposed to panic more," the younger woman argued. "She didn’t. She wasn’t even—"

"She responded to the message," Ivy cut in coldly. "That’s enough."

My pulse went still.

They were talking about Mira.

These people had been closer to her than I realized.

I motioned to Tomas to flank left while I moved right.

Another voice — male this time — cut in.

"We shouldn’t stay long," he said. "He’ll come."

"Let him," Ivy replied. "People like him only learn when they bleed."

I stepped into the doorway.

"I’m here," I said quietly.

Three heads snapped toward me.

And for one beautiful second, fear rippled through the room.

The younger woman screamed. The man reached for a gun. Ivy did nothing — she simply lifted her chin, studying me like she’d been waiting.

"Jace Romano," she said smoothly. "Finally."

I didn’t speak.

I didn’t need to.

Tomas disarmed the man with one bullet to the hand. He crumpled to the floor, yelling. The younger woman backed into the wall, trembling.

But Ivy stood unmoving.

Her hair fell over one shoulder, her expression unshaken even with guns pointed at her.

"Where is he?" I asked.

She arched a brow. "Who?"

"The person giving you orders."

"Do you think I take orders?" she said, smiling faintly. "Cute."

"Cute," I repeated slowly, stepping closer. "That you think I won’t tear this place apart to find him."

Her smile didn’t falter. "Tear it apart then. You won’t find what you’re looking for."

And that...

was the wrong answer.

I reached for her collar and slammed her against the crate behind her. Not hard enough to break anything. Just enough to make it clear she wasn’t in control.

She exhaled sharply but didn’t flinch. freeweɓnovel.cøm

"In the last forty-eight hours," I said quietly, "my wife almost died. My daughter is in an incubator. And you think this is the moment to play bold with me?"

Her eyes flickered.

Not fear.

Recognition.

"You’re angry," she said. "Good."

I tightened my grip. "Tell me who hired you."

"I didn’t say I was hired."

"You didn’t need to."

Her laugh was small, breathy, bitter. "You’re not the only man with enemies, Romano."

"Then name one."

She leaned forward just slightly, lowering her voice like she wanted to savor the moment.

"Even if I told you," she whispered, "you wouldn’t survive long enough to touch him."

I didn’t break her windpipe.

But I wanted to.

Something clattered behind us. It was metal falling onto concrete.

We turned.

The younger woman had knocked over a toolbox while trying to bolt for the stairs. She ran. Tomas lunged, but Ivy used the moment, bringing her knee up and slamming her shoulder into my chest.

It wasn’t enough to drop me, but enough to slip from my hold.

"Go!" she shouted.

The man with the injured hand crawled toward the exit. The younger woman bolted through the stairwell.

Tomas cursed. "Boss—"

"After her!" I ordered.

He sprinted.

Ivy tried to run past me but I grabbed her wrist and yanked her back.

She twisted like someone trained. Not professionally, but enough to slip her elbow through my hold. She was fast — faster than most men I’d fought — and she used the chaos well.

She kicked the crate stack beside her.

It toppled.

A cascade of wooden boxes crashed down between us, forcing me to step back.

Dust filled the air.

By the time it cleared...

She was gone.

I stormed through the doorway, eyes scanning every corner.

Empty stairwell.

Emergency exit swinging.

No footsteps.

No silhouette.

She vanished like smoke.

Tomas returned seconds later, breath uneven. "The other two are down — caught them by the fence."

"But not her," I said.

He shook his head. "It’s like she disappeared."

Cold anger slid under my ribs.

"She didn’t disappear," I said. "She was extracted."

As if on cue, a faint engine rev echoed outside — a motorcycle speeding into the night.

Calculated.

Professional.

Pre-planned.

She was never meant to be caught.

This entire warehouse had been a lure.

But for what?

A distraction?

A warning?

A test?

Tomas checked his tablet. "Boss... look."

A message flashed on the shared screen.

UNKNOWN SENDER:

YOU’RE CLOSE. BUT NOT CLOSE ENOUGH.

WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO LOSE NEXT?

My blood iced.

Next?

Next meant they thought Mira’s survival was... negotiable.

I stepped out of the warehouse, the moonlight slicing across the gravel. The river shimmered nearby, dark and indifferent.

Wind cut against my face.

None of it mattered.

What mattered was the promise forming in my chest — one Mira would never hear, one my enemies would regret provoking.

They wanted war?

War was too polite for what I felt.

This wasn’t about retribution.

This was personal.

This was primal.

This was annihilation.

I turned to my men.

"Get everyone we have," I said, voice low. "Every contact. Every name. Every shadow crawling in this city."

"Yes, sir," Tomas answered.

"We’re not reacting anymore. We’re killing them all."

I looked back toward the warehouse — the place Ivy had almost died, the place she’d slipped away like a ghost.

"We hit first," I said. "And we don’t stop until the streets know exactly who she belongs to."

I stepped into the car.

"Take me back to the hospital," I added. "I’m not leaving her side again."

The door shut.

The convoy started toward the main road.

And as the city passed beneath the night sky, one thing became brutally clear:

Someone had woken the wrong monster.