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No one answered.

But the tremor in everyone's eyes said it all.

I charged out of the basement, through the estate corridors, and into the black Maybach waiting outside. The engine roared to life, tires kicking up dust on the gravel road.

I floored it. The car shot out the iron gates like an unleashed beast, tearing into the night-shrouded highway.

Marco's urgent voice came through the car's comm system. "Don, we traced the signal! It's definitely Queens, Seventh Avenue, abandoned cold storage, Building B. No surveillance in the area. Perfect ambush spot."

"How many men does DeLuca have?"

"Uncertain. Thermal imaging shows at least seven to ten heat signatures."

"Weapons?"

"At least two automatic rifles, various handguns. Don, this is a death trap."

"Then make it theirs." I laughed coldly. "Tony's men in position?"

"Already deployed on the perimeter. Ready for support anytime."

"Good. Remember—no one moves without my signal."

"But Don—"

"That's an order!"

I cut the comm, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles.

The scenery outside flew past, from bustling Manhattan gradually turning to desolate industrial zones. Streetlights grew sparse, finally disappearing completely into darkness.

The Maybach's dashboard clock counted down relentlessly, red digital numbers a merciless reminder—only fifteen minutes left until Lorenzo's one-hour deadline. Every passing second tightened the noose around Ruby's neck.

After forty minutes of extreme driving, the Maybach screeched to a halt in a weed-choked lot.

Fifty yards ahead stood the abandoned gray concrete building—rusted rolling steel door half-open, pitch black inside, impossible to see anything.

I killed the engine and got out, chambered a round.

Deep breath. I strode toward the building.

Gravel crunched under my boots. Cold night wind carried the smell of rust and mildew.

I reached the entrance, raised my hand, and pushed open the heavy iron door.

The hinges shrieked, echoing through the empty warehouse.

"Welcome, Moretti!"

Lorenzo's voice came from deep in the darkness, tinged with sick excitement.

In the dim light, I saw her.

Ruby was tied to a concrete pillar in the center of the warehouse, mouth gagged with a dirty cloth, face streaked with tears. The instant she saw me, her eyes went wide, shaking her head frantically as if warning me to leave.

Lorenzo stood behind her, gun barrel pressed to the back of her head, face twisted in a savage grin.

From the surrounding shadows, seven or eight armed thugs emerged from various corners, all weapons trained on me.