The phone call echoed in Giovanni's ears long after the line had gone dead. His grip on the receiver tightened as his mind raced. The voice on the other end—rough, disjointed—had spoken words that chilled him to the bone. "We have her." The simple statement carried a weight of terror far greater than any threat he had ever faced. They had taken Alessia again.

Giovanni's thoughts were clouded with panic, but he fought it back. He had no time for fear. He had no time for anything except finding his sister. Alessandro and Sandro were already on their way over when Giovanni slammed the phone down. His breath was shallow as he paced the length of the room, trying to clear his thoughts.

"Who was it?" Alessandro asked, his face drawn tight with worry as he entered the room.

"They took her," Giovanni growled, his voice taut with barely contained rage. "They've taken Alessia again."

Sandro cursed under his breath, but his eyes were sharp. "We don't know where she is yet. But we will find out."

Giovanni's hands clenched into fists at his sides. "No one hurts her. No one."

The words were spoken with such raw intensity that they hung in the air, thick and foreboding. The family was under siege, but they had survived worse. The De Luca brothers knew the world of danger they lived in, but this—this felt different. This felt personal.

Alessandro moved towards the map they had been studying for weeks, pulling the corners closer to him as he analyzed the latest information Sandro had gathered. "They won't keep her for long if we move quickly. We'll trace their movements. We'll find where they've hidden her."

Giovanni nodded, his jaw clenched so tightly it was as if his teeth would break under the pressure. "We don't wait. Not this time."

Back in the small, sterile apartment where Alessia had been held, she was barely conscious of the time passing. The darkness that enveloped her was absolute, and the cruel memories of her past blurred with the present in a twisted haze of confusion.

Alessia was locked in a small room, her hands bound tightly to a chair, her legs sore from the cramped position. She had been drugged, but she had managed to stay alert for longer than they had anticipated. The bruises on her body from her previous life under the Mitchells' abuse still ached, each tender spot serving as a reminder of the horrors she had lived through. Her mind was fractured—too much had been stolen from her.

But there was something, some faint flicker of recognition deep inside her that refused to let her break.

She was no longer a baby. She was no longer powerless.

Her thoughts turned to her brothers, and a flash of hope shot through her chest. They were coming for her, weren't they? They had to be. Giovanni, Alessandro, Sandro—they would never leave her in the hands of these monsters.

The door to the room creaked open, and a figure stepped inside. Alessia's breath caught in her throat as she instinctively recoiled, but the man didn't move toward her. He only stared, his eyes cold.

"You're the one they're willing to die for," he said in a low, gravelly voice. "I'm curious how far they'll go to get you back."

Alessia's mind spun, but she could feel the truth in his words. The De Lucas would never stop. She could only hope that her fragile strength would be enough to carry her through this final nightmare.

Giovanni, Alessandro, and Sandro were relentless. They had followed every lead, deciphered every clue, and tracked every movement. The brothers knew that time was against them, and each passing second felt like an eternity.

Sandro sat at his computer, his fingers flying over the keys. "I found something. There's a warehouse on the outskirts of the city—looks like a safehouse."

"That's where she is," Giovanni declared, his eyes blazing with the certainty of a man who would stop at nothing to protect his family.

"We'll need backup," Alessandro said, his voice steady but his hand tightly gripping the edge of the table. "This is going to get messy."

"We'll go in quietly. We can't afford to alert them," Giovanni insisted, his eyes hard. "We get Alessia, and we get out. No more waiting."

Sandro and Alessandro exchanged a look, then nodded in agreement. They knew that their brother's resolve was as unshakable as it was dangerous.

The night had fallen by the time they arrived at the warehouse. The De Luca brothers and a few trusted associates approached the compound in stealth, careful not to alert the enemy. Giovanni led the way, his eyes sharp, his movements fluid and purposeful. They were close now—too close for failure.

Alessia was somewhere inside, and the brothers could feel her presence like a beacon, calling them forward.

As they reached the door, Giovanni held up his hand to stop them. He motioned for Sandro to check the locks. They had to move quickly. Every second they wasted was one more second Alessia could be in danger.

The door creaked open with a soft click, and the brothers silently entered the warehouse. The shadows seemed to swallow them whole as they advanced through the maze of crates and stacks of boxes, the sound of their footfalls muffled by the concrete floor.

Alessia's scent lingered faintly in the air, and Giovanni's pulse quickened. He was getting closer to her—he could feel it.

Suddenly, a voice rang out from the darkness. "You should've stayed out of this, De Luca."

A figure emerged from the shadows, and Giovanni recognized him instantly. Marcus Kline.

"Where is she?" Giovanni demanded, his voice low and filled with rage.

Kline smirked, stepping closer, his hands raised in mock surrender. "You're too late. She's already been moved."

Giovanni's eyes narrowed. "Tell me where she is, or I swear, I'll make you regret every breath you've taken."

Kline laughed, a hollow sound that made Giovanni's blood run cold. "You really think you can intimidate me, De Luca? You're just as much a pawn in this game as she was."

Giovanni's restraint snapped.

The brothers fought like a whirlwind, training and experience in the criminal underworld allowing them to dominate the scene. They took down Kline's men with swift, calculated moves, each strike landing with deadly accuracy.

But as they reached the final room of the warehouse, the door burst open to reveal a man with a gun—one they hadn't anticipated.

In the chaos, the gunfire echoed, and a shot rang out.

Giovanni turned just in time to see his brother Alessandro fall to the ground, blood seeping from his shoulder.

"No!" Giovanni shouted, his heart nearly stopping.