Chapter 3 - Blood Ties And Bitter Lies
Within two hours, Roman had relocated Clara from the guest bedroom to his personal master suite on the top floor of the fortress. The suite was an armored sanctuary: reinforced steel core doors, bulletproof floor-to-ceiling glass offering a commanding view of the iron gates, and direct access to an underground tunnel system.
Clara paced the Persian rug, clutching a mug of tea that had long gone cold. Her phone had been confiscated and replaced with an encrypted burner device that Roman had loaded with only two numbers: his personal line and Victor’s.
""Drink the tea,"" Roman said, sitting on the edge of the king-sized bed while unbuttoning his cuffs. ""You’re trembling.""
""My brother is out there, Roman,"" Clara said, turning toward him with fierce eyes. ""You said you sent men, but how do I know they won't hurt him? How do I know you're not using him as leverage against me?""
Roman looked at her, his expression unreadable. He slowly unfastened the silver watch from his wrist and set it on the nightstand. ""If I wanted leverage over you, Clara, I wouldn't need your brother. You are locked inside my house. Your life is entirely in my hands.""
""Then why are you protecting him?""
""Because you asked me to,"" he replied simply.
The answer caught Clara off guard. It was devoid of the theatrical arrogance she expected from a mafia underboss. It was delivered with a matter-of-fact finality that struck her right in the chest.
Before she could respond, the internal intercom on the wall buzzed with an urgent double-tone. Roman stepped to the console and pressed the speaker button. ""Speak.""
""Boss, we have an issue at the university hospital,"" Victor’s voice crackled through the speaker, tight and strained. ""The boy isn't in his dorm. We checked the clinic where he works. His locker was cleaned out an hour before our men arrived.""
Clara’s heart dropped into an abyss. She lunged toward the console. ""Where is he? What did they do to him?""
""Clara, step back,"" Roman ordered softly, though his hand caught her arm, steadying her as she swayed. He spoke into the unit. ""Any signs of a struggle?""
""No signs of forced entry, Boss,"" Victor replied. ""Security footage was wiped from the server at six-thirty this morning. A clean job. But the parking attendant remembers seeing a young man matching Leo’s description getting into a gray Audi with government diplomatic plates.""
Roman’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. ""Diplomatic plates. The consulate.""
""Looks like it,"" Victor confirmed. ""Salvatore Marcone’s youngest nephew, Marco, serves as a cultural attaché for the Italian consulate. They have immunity. We can't hit the building without starting an international incident.""
Roman clicked off the intercom. He turned to face Clara, whose face was completely drained of color.
""They took him,"" she whispered, her hands flying to her mouth. ""They took Leo. This is my fault. I shouldn't have gone to that gala. I shouldn't have—""
""Stop,"" Roman commanded, his voice cutting through her mounting panic like a scalpel. He grabbed both of her shoulders, forcing her to look directly into his dark, unwavering eyes. ""Listen to me, Clara. Blaming yourself is exactly what they want. Guilt makes you predictable. Despair makes you weak. Your brother is alive.""
""How can you know that?"" she cried, tears spilling over her eyelashes.
""Because dead hostages have no trade value,"" Roman explained, his thumbs wiping the moisture from her cheeks with unexpected gentleness. ""They didn't grab him to kill him. They grabbed him to make an exchange.""
""An exchange for what? What could I possibly have that a mafia family wants?""
Roman hesitated for a split second, his jaw tightening until the muscle ticked beneath his skin. ""They don't want you, Clara. They want me.""
The realization hit her like a physical blow. The setup in the ballroom, the framing in the locker, the kidnapping of her innocent brother—it was all a calculated chess match designed to lure Roman Duca into an ambush. Clara was merely the rope they used to bind the trap.
""If they want you,"" she breathed, her voice cracking, ""then if you go to them... you won't come back.""
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Roman looked down at her, a dark, wicked smile playing upon his lips for the first time. It was the smile of a predator who had just spotted the hunter waiting in the brush.
""They think they are luring a dog into a cage,"" Roman whispered, his fingers sliding into her hair, holding her gaze with terrifying intensity. ""They forget that I burned their kingdom down once before. And if they lay a single finger on your brother, Clara, I will burn down whatever they have left.""
