CHAPTER THREE

ARIES

"Where is she?"

I spit with rage coursing through my veins.

Standing before Donnie Aiello, he is on his knees with a stoic expression on his smug face, "We don't have her."

When he adds, "Anymore," to the end of his sentence I see red. I press the gun under his chin, digging the cool metal into his skin, "Last chance, asshole. Where the fuck is my sister?"

He shrugs nonchalantly, "Somewhere. Probably being beaten and raped as we speak."

I fire a single shot, killing him instantly, but I'm not done. I'll send his body parts to the Aiellos to send them a message. They will get him back piece by piece, and others will get the same treatment until I get my fourteen year old baby sister back.

Am I surprised he told me nothing? Not at all. Any man worth a fuck in this world would gladly die before spilling family business. Three years ago the Aiellos hit my family hard. My father took business from them so they came for us. I was shot in the chest and, according to the surgeon, had the bullet hit less than a human hair's width to the left I wouldn't be alive. My father and my two brothers, as well as many of our soldiers, were not as lucky. Even today they outgun us after that attack left only a few of us alive. It's the only reason we haven't gone after them for what they did. They have known since they massacred my family that I would avenge them. Taking my sister was a preemptive attack. They knew I was planning on going after them and so rather than lying in wait, they made the first move. I would've done the same damn thing except I wouldn't have gone for their women, and certainly not a damn child. However, now all bets are off. I will take a page from their game play. They better hide everyone they care about because no one is safe. Until I get Sierra back they should assume I'm coming for their most vulnerable, the weakest, as they've done to me.

There are five families here. We all have our own strengths and weaknesses, but the De Lucas have the best intel, hands down. If they worked with my family I have no doubt I could find my sister, but I have no doubt I'll be told to go fuck myself. I would likely do the same thing if I were in their shoes.

The last thing I want to do is look weak by going to ask them for help. Yet, I have no choice. For the last two weeks I've listened to my mother sob daily. She has already lost her husband and two sons. I have no doubt that she won't survive losing Sierra as well. A person can only take so much. I heard her praying last night for God to take her, because she can't bear this pain. I have men watching her when I'm not around, because I'm terrified she may take her own life. I can't risk getting Sierra back, only to have to explain to her that our mother is dead.

I text Domenic De Luca, feeling like a goddamn failure that this is even necessary.

Me: I need a meeting.

Domenic: That's odd considering we have no business together. Request denied.

Fucking asshole.

Me: It's important. I think you must know if it weren't I wouldn't be contacting you.

Domenic: Is the meeting to notify me you're dying of a terminal disease? If so, I'll give you the meeting.

Me: There's going to be a war. I suggest you at least know about it before it starts. It'd be a shame for your family to be caught in the crossfire unaware.

Domenic: Be here in an hour.

I fucking hate that guy. He, as well as his brothers, are all assholes. I remind myself that this is for Sierra. She is the only reason I'm doing this. If it were my life on the line, I'd gladly die before asking the De Lucas for a goddamn thing.

When I park and get outside their house, two armed guards approach me. The one is built like a damn tank and the other has a nasty scar, probably from a knife, that runs nearly four inches long under his right eye, "Any weapons?"

I shake my head, "Of course not."

I'm not a damn idiot. I knew I'd be searched before gaining entry and if I had a gun on me, the meeting would be canceled.

"Hands against the wall," Scar says and stands with a rifle aimed at my head, while Tank pats me down intrusively.

"Jesus. You could at least buy a guy a drink first."

"He's clean," the one guard says to the other as he waves me inside.

I walk into the expansive open concept living room, my hands in my pockets as I glance around the room. The far wall has floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, a bar sits near the glass, and a massive formal dining room table that appears to be made from hand carved wood, with a connecting metal scroll design at the base. Fancy. The light gray walls surprise me the most because I'd expect to find fancy artwork; however, it's all pictures of his wife and kid. Tank follows closely behind me and says, "Have a seat. They'll be with you shortly."

They'll? Fuck. The only thing worse than one De Luca brother is all four of them. I take another look around at the pictures on the wall. The one is of Domenic and his wife Giada, a candid shot at the ocean. They look happy, really fucking happy, but can men like us ever be content? I turn around as I hear heels clicking on the Italian tile and spot a stunning woman. Fuck.

One of the brothers yells, "Don't forget about Sunday, Dalia."

"Yeah yeah," the woman who is clearly Dalia De Luca says with a giggle. I saw her about a decade ago at a fundraiser for cancer, but she didn't look like this. She was scrawny, with braces covering her teeth, and awkward as hell but now. Jesus.

Her eyes travel the length of my body before her cheeks turn pink and she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. My eyes take her in just the same. Bright emerald eyes, long dark hair in soft curls, high cheekbones, and curves in all the right places, and beautiful tits. Yeah I'm a man, I noticed. My gaze drops to her soft lips and I start imagining all sorts of things that would send her brothers into a murderous rage. Without a word she keeps walking to the front door.

Fuck. She's gorgeous. Get your mind out of the gutter, asshole. Meeting with the De Luca brothers with a hard dick is probably not a good idea, considering their little sister just left. Jesus. Those eyes could draw any man in and give him a raging hard on.

I walk over to the bar in the corner of the room, and pour myself two fingers of whiskey while I wait. Taking a seat on one of the large sectionals, I take a pull of my drink when the four brothers enter the room.

Domenic narrows his gaze at me, "Make yourself at home, asshole."

I nod slightly and raise my glass in a cheers motion, mainly to piss him off, "Thank you for your hospitality."

All four brothers sit on the other sofa across from the one I'm sitting on. Domenic says, "Alright. Talk. You have five minutes."

I take another drink slowly, intentionally pissing him off because I hate this fucker.

After I've wasted enough time and can tell he's close to tossing me out, I say, "The Aiellos took my sister. Donnie Aiello said they don't have her anymore, so I'm assuming they've trafficked her."

He arches an eyebrow, "That sounds like a you problem."

I shake my head, "It's an us problem. Do you think my family is where this stops? You think they won't come after your pretty little wife? Your sister? As long as they live, all our women and children are at risk. The De Luca family is not immune to their attacks."

All four brothers stand and suddenly I have four guns pointed at my head, as Domenic growls with fury, "You don't talk about my wife or my sister."

I finish my drink, paying no attention to their clear threat, "Got it. My point is none of us are good men. However, the things they'll do to our women are far worse than we'd ever do."

They put their firearms away and Domenic chuckles, "Ironic, isn't it?"

I glance at him as he and his brothers retake their seats, "What is?"

He smirks at me, "Sixteen years ago, we came to you for help to find our mother and sister. You refused. Remember that?"

With a nod I admit it, "I remember. I also remember I wasn't the head of the family at the time."

Drake stares at me like he'd like to kill me on the spot. They all do really, but none more than him.

Damian says, "Are you saying that you argued with your father about it but he refused?"

I drop my gaze to the empty glass in my hands, this was a waste of fucking time, "No. I didn't."

The fact is, not only did I not ask him to intervene but I told him it wasn't our problem, much the same as they're telling me now.

Domenic stands and the other brothers follow suit, "I hope you find your sister, because no girl deserves to go through what she's probably going through. Had you helped us when we needed it we'd repay our debt. However, we owe you nothing."

I rise from my seat because clearly this meeting is over, but I try one last time, "Domenic, she's fourteen years old."

He shrugs his shoulders like it doesn't matter, "Dalia was eight. Eight fucking years old."

Pulling his cell phone from his pocket, he calls his goons, "Come get this asshole out of my sight."

I set the glass on the coffee table between the two couches, and make my way to the front door as the guards come in and manhandle me. It pisses me off, but of course I know it's nothing compared to what Sierra is going through.

God fucking damn it. I'm not an idiot, I knew this was a long shot but I can't say I'm surprised. If I were in their shoes I would've told them to fuck off too.

As I walk out to my car I have a smile on my face, because that was plan A but plan B will still get me what I need, and it'll wreck the day of four De Lucas. Well, five.