𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐞 || A Mafia Love Story

xxxiii

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The room was cloaked in shadows, only the dim light of a desk lamp illuminating the polished surface of Mr. Russo's desk. Outside, the remnants of a brutal storm lingered, soft flurries swirling in the air beneath a sky painted in cold shades of grey. The room itself was suffocatingly still, the only sound being the low hum of the phone, static muffling the deadly serious conversation unfolding.

Across from Mr. Russo, his colleague sat rigid in the high-backed leather chair, the cold gleam of determination in his eyes as he spoke into the phone. "You have the girl?" His voice was sharp, cutting through the silence like the crack of a whip, commanding and chilling. He barely moved as he spoke, his words measured with deadly precision.

Mr. Russo remained seated behind his desk, his fingers folded neatly beneath his chin, his expression inscrutable. His eyes were fixed on the distant horizon beyond the window, where the storm had quieted to a deceptive calm. The faint static from the phone buzzed faintly in the air as he waited, his thoughts hidden behind his steely gaze.

Moments later, the call ended with a soft click. His colleague looked up, his face a mask of eerie calm, as if he had just relayed the weather instead of something far more sinister. His eyes met Mr. Russo's across the desk, a silent understanding passing between them. There was no hesitation, no doubt, just a stiff nod signaling confirmation.

A slow, deliberate grin spread across Mr. Russo's face, the kind of smile that never reached his eyes. Outside, the occasional snowflake drifted past the window, the storm subsiding just enough to leave the world unnervingly quiet.

"Perfect," Mr. Russo said, his voice low but carrying an unmistakable weight of finality. He stood smoothly, his movements precise as he adjusted his suit, every detail of his appearance meticulously in place. There was something almost ritualistic about it, as if each gesture held significance beyond the surface.

He walked to the door, his polished shoes echoing in the tense silence, and paused just long enough to cast a cold glance over his shoulder. "You know what to do." His voice was clipped, his tone making it clear that failure was not an option.

His colleague rose immediately, his expression unchanging, and followed his boss out. Their paths split at the hallway, each man disappearing in opposite directions, the silence of the office lingering like the calm before another storm.

Viktor awoke to the pale light of dawn creeping through his window, the clock reading 5:00 a.m. His body had risen naturally with the early sunlight, a force of habit ingrained from years of vigilance. He rubbed his face with his hands, trying to clear the heaviness of sleep from his eyes. There was a hollow silence in the air, broken only by the soft rustle of wind outside.

A sharp knock at his bedroom door interrupted his thoughts. Viktor rinsed his toothbrush and set it down, tension settling into his muscles as he approached the door. His jaw clenched instinctively, his expression hard as stone. When he pulled the door open, he was met by Roman's pale, anxious face.

Viktor's eyes narrowed, his brow furrowing slightly. He spoke with cold indifference. "What?"

Roman shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting down the hall as if searching for the right words. He swallowed nervously, his voice trembling as he began to speak. "Mr. Russo is here... Marlee, she—"

Viktor didn't wait for the rest. His gut twisted violently as Roman's words hit him. A wave of cold anger settled in his chest, sharp and unforgiving. He shoved past his younger brother without so much as a glance, his movements rigid but controlled, every step deliberate. His footsteps echoed sharply down the stairs, the sound reverberating off the marble, matching the pounding in his skull.

In the foyer, Mr. Russo stood trembling, his face pale and drawn. The older man's frantic words filled the air in a shaky, incoherent mess, stumbling over themselves as he tried to explain. But Viktor barely registered them, his patience already paper-thin.

"Enough." Viktor's voice cut through the chaos like a blade. Low, cold, and brimming with a quiet, dangerous intensity. "What happened?"

The room seemed to shrink under the weight of Viktor's fury, though his expression remained calm. Only the tightness of his jaw and the gleam in his eyes betrayed the inferno burning inside him.

"My girls..." Mr. Russo rasped, his voice cracking. "They're gone." His eyes welled up, and a tear slipped down his cheek. Viktor's vision tunneled, the sight sending a spike of rage through him so sharp it nearly shattered his control. He felt his muscles tense, fighting the primal urge to lash out, to break something, to make someone pay.

He clenched his fists, the nails biting into his palms. Not yet.

His voice remained unnervingly steady. "Who's the other?"

"My wife," Mr. Russo croaked, barely managing the words through his anguish.

Viktor nodded, the motion stiff, mechanical. He forced his breath to even out, his fury a caged beast, thrashing against the bars. "Marlee's mother?" he asked, his voice sharper now, dangerously close to the edge.

"In the truck... safe..." Mr. Russo stammered, his words a desperate plea for reassurance.

Viktor didn't respond, his mind already racing ahead as he marched toward his office. The cold fire inside him blazed higher with every passing second. He began issuing orders with cold efficiency, voice clipped and ruthless as he made call after call. Each word was a challenge to the storm inside him, a battle to keep it from ripping through the thin veneer of calm he clung to.

He reviewed the security footage, his eyes narrowing, fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white. Then, finally, he saw it—Soren.

The room seemed to shift, Viktor's fury threatening to overflow. His jaw clenched painfully as he stared at the screen, his entire body taut with barely restrained violence. His hand tightened around his phone, every muscle in his arm tense, fighting the urge to hurl it across the room. The storm inside him raged on, violent and unchecked. He could feel it pushing against his skin, boiling just beneath the surface, begging for release.

He sucked in a slow breath through his nose, his voice a low growl as he ground out, "Find him."