Chapter 2 - Forty-Six Men Searching for a GhostThe first explosion tore through the Bellandi family's south warehouse at 1:26 p.m.
The second came less than four minutes later.
By the time Dominic Bellandi reached the emergency command center beneath his downtown office, three separate attacks had been reported, two warehouses were burning, and one of his most trusted captains had disappeared.
He stood over a map of Chicago, blood drying along the edge of his collar.
“Lock down the eastern routes,” he ordered. “Nobody moves without clearance. I want every vehicle checked, every camera reviewed, every phone traced.”
His men moved immediately.
They had seen Dominic angry before. They had seen him cold, calculating, and terrifyingly patient.
Today, he was all three.
“Who planned this?” Matteo demanded.
Matteo Bellandi, Dominic's younger brother, had a fresh cut above his eyebrow and a bullet hole through the sleeve of his jacket. He was furious enough to frighten men twice his size.
“We don't know yet,” Dominic replied.
“Three locations hit within twenty minutes. They knew our rotation, our backup routes, and which warehouses held the records. Someone gave them our schedule.”
“I know what happened.”
“Then why are we still guessing?”
Dominic turned.
Matteo fell silent.
Only a handful of people could speak to Dominic that way and remain standing afterward. Matteo was one of them. He had grown up beside his brother, survived the same threats, and buried the same family members.
He also knew Dominic well enough to recognize when the Boss was one insult away from making a terrible decision.
A lieutenant hurried into the room.
“Boss, the north warehouse is secured. We've lost six men at the southern site. The police are already moving toward the river.”
“Get our people out before they reach the records room.”
“Already done.”
“Then find out who leaked the location.”
The lieutenant nodded and disappeared.
Matteo leaned over the map.
“This wasn't a warning. They wanted us scrambling.”
Dominic studied the marked locations.
The convoy attack had forced him to abandon the original route to the command center. The warehouse fires had pulled senior men away from their posts. The communications outage had left three crews operating without reliable information.
Every attack had been designed to create confusion.
And the enemy had succeeded.
For the next five hours, Dominic did not sit down.
He spoke to captains, reviewed security footage, and ordered his men to secure the estate. At some point, his shirt became stained with someone else's blood. He barely noticed.
There was only one thing he knew for certain.
The attackers had been close enough to his organization to understand how it functioned.
Close enough to predict his movements.
Close enough to know which men would be occupied when the first shots were fired.
He had spent six months discussing his fears with Francesca, a licensed therapist whose private practice had come highly recommended by an old associate. She had helped him sleep through the nightmares that had followed his brother's attempted assassination. She had taught him breathing exercises, challenged his suspicion of everyone around him, and encouraged him to speak about things he had buried for years.
He had thought she was helping him regain control.
Now, as his organization bled, he remembered several conversations with uncomfortable clarity.
He had mentioned the south warehouse during a session three weeks earlier.
He had discussed his changing security arrangements.
He had even admitted that he was considering replacing a senior captain whose loyalty had begun to trouble him.
Francesca had never asked for specific addresses or names.
She had never appeared curious.
But she had listened.
And Dominic had talked.
A cold feeling settled in his stomach.
He reached for his phone.
Twenty-three messages from Francesca.
Four missed calls from Matteo.
Nothing from Elena.
He stared at his wife's name for a second, then locked the screen.
Elena had spent the previous evening accusing him of telling Francesca everything.
He had told her she was overreacting.
He had told her to leave.
The memory irritated him because it was inconvenient. He had a criminal empire to defend, men missing from his roster, and enemies who had apparently decided that today was the day to test the Bellandis.
He did not have time to revisit a marital argument.
Besides, Elena was at home.
She would be furious when he returned. She might refuse to speak to him for a day or two. They would eventually argue again, and then he would explain that Francesca was a professional and that his marriage had nothing to fear.
It had always worked before.
Dominic had never considered that Elena might stop waiting.
At 6:41 p.m., he received the report that changed everything.
A black Mercedes registered to Elena Bellandi had been found near a train station on the western side of the city.
The vehicle had been parked legally.
The engine was cold.
There was no sign of a struggle.
And the driver's door had been left unlocked.
Dominic stared at the photograph the investigator sent him.
It was Elena's car.
He recognized the small scratch near the rear wheel, the one she had insisted a mechanic fix even though it was barely visible. He recognized the cream leather seats and the black dashboard she had chosen herself.
“Where is she?” he asked.
The investigator hesitated.
“We're still checking the station cameras.”
“Check faster.”
“Boss, there are no signs of forced entry.”
Dominic lifted his eyes.
“Do you think I asked you whether the car was broken into?”
“No, sir.”
“Find my wife.”
The call ended.
Dominic remained motionless for three seconds.
Then he seized his coat and walked toward the private elevator.
Matteo caught up with him.
“What happened?”
“Elena's car was found near the station.”
Matteo's face changed.
“Was she inside?”
“No.”
“Then she's probably on a train.”
“Or someone took her.”
“Dominic, we have enemies attacking every location we own. Don't jump to conclusions.”
“My wife is missing.”
The words came out so quietly that Matteo stopped walking.
Dominic turned toward his brother.
“If someone has taken Elena, I want every station, every road, every airport, and every port covered. Send the men now.”
Matteo searched his face.
“You think this is connected?”
“I think someone knows my schedule, my security arrangements, and possibly my home.”
His voice hardened.
“I will not wait to discover what else they know.”
Within twelve minutes, forty-six men had been dispatched across Chicago and the surrounding counties.
Some went to train stations.
Others checked airports, private terminals, marinas, hospitals, and safehouses. Every rival family was contacted through intermediaries. Every known associate of the men suspected in the attacks was investigated.
The Bellandi family had survived wars that lasted years.
Yet nothing frightened Dominic more than the possibility that Elena was somewhere alone, frightened, and unable to reach him.
At 8:16 p.m., he finally returned to the estate.
He had not eaten since the previous morning. He had spent nearly nineteen hours dealing with the attacks, the missing captain, and an investigation that seemed to grow more complicated with every new report.
Blood stained his cuff.
His head throbbed.
All he wanted was to walk into the bedroom and find Elena sitting beside the window, furious but alive.
He pushed through the front door.
“Where's Elena?”
Rosa stood in the hallway.
The housekeeper was normally composed, even when armed men rushed through the mansion or Dominic returned home with injuries. But tonight, she looked as though she had been waiting for this question and dreading it at the same time.
“Mrs. Bellandi left this afternoon, sir.”
Dominic stopped.
“What?”
“She packed a suitcase and drove away.”
“With whom?”
“Nobody.”
“How many guards did she take?”
“None.”
He stared at Rosa as though she had started speaking another language.
“You let my wife leave without an escort?”
Rosa's expression hardened.
“Mrs. Bellandi said she didn't want anyone to disturb you.”
For one terrifying second, Dominic could not form a response.
Then he turned toward the nearest guard.
“Get everyone back here. Now.”
The guard hurried away.
Dominic walked through the mansion, searching every room despite knowing what he would find. The bedroom closet was open. One small section of clothing was missing from Elena's side. Her jewelry remained untouched. The pistol he had given her years earlier was still in its drawer.
On the dresser, their wedding photograph sat precisely where it had always been.
Beside it was a clean patch of wood where the photograph album had once rested.
Dominic stared at the empty space.
“She left?” he repeated.
Rosa nodded.
“When?”
“Just after one.”
He looked at his watch.
Six hours.
For six hours, Elena had been gone while he ordered men to secure warehouses, hunted an invisible enemy, and assumed she was safely waiting for him at home.
“Did she say where she was going?”
“No, sir.”
“Did she seem frightened?”
Rosa hesitated.
“No.”
“Did she cry?”
The old woman's eyes softened.
“No.”
That answer unsettled him more than any other.
Elena cried when she was hurt. Not dramatically, not in front of strangers, but Dominic had always known. A quietness entered her voice. She would look away when he reached for her hand.
Tonight, she had apparently packed a suitcase and walked out without shedding a tear.
He pulled out his phone and called her.
Straight to voicemail.
Again.
Voicemail.
A third time.
Nothing.
He sent a message.
Where are you?
Then another.
Elena, answer me.
He watched the screen for a response.
None came.
Matteo entered the bedroom holding a small plastic evidence bag.
“We found this in her car.”
Dominic turned.
Inside the bag was a gold wedding ring.
His wedding ring.
The one he had selected twelve years earlier, after visiting four jewelers because Elena had once mentioned that she hated diamonds that caught on fabric.
He had chosen a simple band of gold with a small stone set low enough not to snag on anything.
He had placed it on her finger in a courthouse with peeling paint, while Matteo stood beside them as their only witness.
Elena had laughed afterward because Dominic had nearly broken her finger trying to slide the ring into place.
He remembered every detail.
He remembered promising that the ring would never be the most important thing he gave her.
Now it lay in a plastic bag.
Matteo watched his brother carefully.
“Dominic?”
He took the bag.
For a moment, he could not look away from the ring.
Then he noticed a folded piece of paper beneath it.
The handwriting was Elena's.
Three words had been written on the front.
You don't have to say it twice.
Dominic read the sentence again.
The room seemed to tilt around him.
He remembered the living room.
The whiskey glass.
Francesca's name glowing on his phone.
If you can't handle it, then leave.
I'm not saying it twice.
He had meant to hurt her just enough to end the argument.
He had never imagined she would take him seriously.
His fingers tightened around the evidence bag.
“Get me the station footage,” he ordered.
Matteo didn't move.
“Dominic, she chose to leave.”
“Find the footage.”
“And if she doesn't want to be found?”
Dominic looked at his brother.
The expression on his face made Matteo take a cautious step back.
“Then I will discover why.”
But even as Dominic spoke, a terrible truth began to settle into his bones.
He had spent years teaching everyone around him that his words were commands.
May you like
He had forgotten that Elena had never been one of his men.
And for the first time in twelve years, he had no idea how to make his wife come home.
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