Niccolò leaned back, looking to all of the world like he was relaxing; only someone who knew him could see the lines of tension through his muscles, his shoulders. Elias noticed the dark, cold look in his eye - the look that seemed to signify the end of Niccolò's humanity for that evening.

They were waiting in one of the Romano warehouses, watching the Romano men distributing weapons - getting ready for a fight. Whoever had Camilla - whoever dared to mess with the Romano Don - wasn't going to live through the next twelve hours.

Elias glanced at his watch, angling the dial so that he could see past the reflected glare of sharp fluorescent lighting; it was ten past nine - almost half an hour since Camilla had last been seen. He glanced at the Romano Don, brooding silently, coiled like a snake ready to attack, his muscles tense; Elias liked Cee. She seemed like a good kid - like a cute younger sister - but personal feelings aside, this felt like a trap. She'd known where she was going to be taken and she'd known about the location of a Romano and an employee without telling anyone.

Even though she hadn't seemed the type, good rats never seemed like they came from the sewer.

"Niccolò," Elias murmured, catching his attention surreptitiously, "it's a trap." The Romano Don didn't even bother to look up at him. "Niccolò, you have to think about this."

The man in front of Elias was unrecognisable as he laughed humourlessly, his eyes dead of all emotion, loading and unloading bullets into his gun absently, cradled in his hands. "I know it's a trap."

Elias looked around, searching for help from someone - anyone - who could get through to him; he caught Luca's eye across the room, jerking his head to signal him over before turning back to his boss. "You know it's a suicide mission then," Elias pushed, testing his boss's nerve; the Romano empire was not worth one girl. The Don didn't acknowledge him, staring down at the weapon in his hands.

"Elias," Luca murmured in greeting.

"Stop your cousin from ruining his life over one fucking girl," Elias snapped, losing his patience. "You can't-"

"It's the Caitos," Niccolò said finally, cutting him off. "The Caitos have Camilla - and Flo, and Angela." Luca stared at his cousin, the terror clear in his eyes; the Caitos had been baiting them for years. They were a family that rivalled them in the drug market, unafraid to rape and mutilate women, no issues with murdering children, ready to burn men alive if necessary.

Luca had tried, more than once, to arrange peaceful meetings - inviting them to dinners, peace talks - but the Caitos wanted no part in it. They were driven by violence, greed - by a desire to burn the city to the ground - and made no secret of wanting to get rid of the competition.

If Flo, Angela and Cee were in their hands, they'd be lucky to recover even one missing finger.

Elias had frozen, taken off guard for once. "They have three of our own," Niccolò murmured, the dark shadow hanging over him suddenly feeling like it weighed the world. "My sister, my employee - and Camilla." Camilla didn't fit into his equation. She wasn't even his girlfriend, and yet it felt like his insides were burning now she wasn't here.

"Niccolò," Luca replied eventually, "you don't even know if they're still alive."

Niccolò shrugged, his muscles tight. Maybe they weren't alive. Maybe he'd have to attend all three funerals, one by one, to stare as they lowered each corpse into the ground; to watch lifelessly as Camilla's pale, tiny body was buried below the earth. Hot anger clenched his fists.

He didn't know why it was so painful to imagine it. Camilla should mean nothing to him - she betrayed him - but he needed her. It wasn't love - it couldn't be. Somehow she'd managed to wrap him around her little finger and keep a tiny piece of his heart in the short time he'd known her - but it wasn't love, was it? It was far too early, too much too soon.

"There's a chance that all three of them are safe and well," Niccolò voiced eventually, pulling himself out of his thoughts and into the present. "I want all three of them back - and the longer I wait, the less likely it is that I will get all three."

"You're angry," Luca tried one last time, "you can't go into this without a clear head."

"Angry?" Niccolò almost laughed; a cold, humourless smile spread across his face. "I'm furious."

Elias clapped his hand to Luca's shoulder, smiling suddenly, roguishly. It was no secret that Elias hated the Caitos - any chance to attack them, Elias was down. "Let's go," Elias murmured to the younger cousin, "Flo's waiting for you."

Luca glared at the offending hand on his shoulder, shrugging him off easily. "Don't use her name against me," he snapped, looking for a second like he was about to start throwing punches.

"Get in the car, Elias," Niccolò ordered, breaking up the fight before it started. "Now." The hit man obeyed without question, giving Luca one last, dark look. The cousins both knew he had his reasons to hate the Caitos - even if he refused to talk about why - and this was his chance.

Niccolò watched his employee, arguably his best friend, walk away; he enjoyed the control he had. When they were in an informal setting, it was different, but in terms of business, he had to have exact authority; he was the iron fist, their leader and protector. The shadows swallowed Elias up as he stepped outside of the concrete bird cage.

And the Caitos were testing that control.

Perhaps he should have seen it coming - he should have been more careful. As soon as Camilla was back, she wouldn't leave his sight again.

"Tell me how the Caitos knew Camilla." Luca gritted his teeth, trying to lose the tension in his shoulders; he'd been thinking about it for a while.

"Domenico Caito was invited to the cocktail event. That must be where he first met her." Niccolò nodded, slowly, his gaze fixed on the concrete floor. "Niccolò, I'm sorry." There was no point berating Luca for his mistake; he could forgive his cousin easily. Mistakes had been made by both Romanos, both leading to their current situation. "I invited him."

"I know you only wanted to promote peace between our famiglie." Luca let out a breath he didn't realise he was holding. "I want to focus on getting all three back. Alive." Luca watched his cousin for a second, wondering how realistic his plan was. The Don had a shadow cast over his face like a veil of grief; he knew what he wanted, and he knew how unlikely it was that he would get it.

"Niccolò-"

"Go." Niccolò sounded tired, as though carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders had finally broken his back; everything he tried to implement in his life - every safety precaution, every aggressive business tactic, everything - was pivoted on his ability to stay emotionless, and calm. It was pivoted on his leadership, his power of protection, his drive to protect his loved ones - and now it was threatened.

Luca nodded silently, after a pause, and followed the final few men from the warehouse, carrying their guns like a badge of honour. The Don watched them leave. Protecting a family like this was hard. It would always be hard. He had watched brave, trusted men die in his name - for him.

Niccolò stood up abruptly, pushing his gun back under his waistband. There would be time afterwards to mourn their deaths, to allow the emotion to wash over him in some kind of cathartic release - but for now, no emotion could stay. His sister, his future girlfriend, and his employee were each in danger.

---

Blinding pain. Like a lightening bolt splitting her head in two. Cee stayed completely still, forcing herself to breathe slowly, steadily. Something was trickling down her forehead - blood? She kept her eyes shut, kept her body limp - her hands were tied with uncomfortable, tight tape, cutting off the blood supply to her fingers behind her back.

As soon as she'd arrived, driving erratically to the very edge of the city and beyond, she'd been hauled out of the car with a gun to her head - and then there was an odd blank. Someone must have hit her over the head, knocked her out. Wherever she was now, it was cold - damp and miserable. She had to stay calm, keep her cool - at least now, Flo and Angela were safe. She'd done it, she'd saved them.

Cee could hear something - a rushing sound, like waves against rocks - but no voices. Carefully, she peeled open her eyes, just a crack, to look around - it took a second for her eyes to adjust to the dark.

It looked like she was in some kind of box - but there was an odd feeling of fur against her skin, and grit. Immediately, Cee squeezed her eyes shut. This tiny box was her worst nightmare. What if they left her here - to starve to death? Something tight stopped her from opening her mouth - more tape? She couldn't breathe quickly enough - the walls were closing in - what if there wasn't enough oxygen left in the box?

Before she could pass out, the black box burst open, letting in a rush of cold air and stars - she was outside somewhere. Rough hands grabbed her, pulling her out of the box - but they'd seen her open eyes and she couldn't play dead for long.

"She's awake." Cee writhed and twisted as hard as she could, desperately trying to shake them off, but a sharp slap to her face sent her to the ground, scraping painfully against gravel. Her ankles were taped up too: thick, silver duct tape that wouldn't snap - she could see it biting into her skin.

Her eyes darted around wildly, taking in the small circle of men - their faces were shadowed by the night. She'd been in a car trunk, stuffed in there like a suitcase, and now she was kneeling on the gravel floor under a thousand uncaring stars, with two familiar figures nearby.

Cee tried to shout to Flo, to the girl - Angela - but the tape covering her mouth reduced her to muffled mumbling. Flo looked up, just for a second, but her eyes caught Cee's - she looked horrified. Her lip was cut, dried blood smeared around the edges, but she didn't have any tape around her hands or feet or to gag her; she was just sitting there, with the smaller girl next to her. Both bruised, both broken.

They were waiting for something - or someone.

"Camilla Fiero," a voice drawled; she stiffened. It sounded familiar, but only vaguely - like a popular voice actor that you'd heard once or twice on TV but never recognised. But Cee recognised the face. "Last time I saw you, you were in better condition," Domenico Caito grinned, just like he'd grinned in the Romano House, when he'd put his slimy hands on her.

Cee kept herself from glaring. She wasn't a strong, badass cartoon character with a sassy mouth and a hidden talent for martial arts - she was just Cee. Cowardly, cowardly Cee. She didn't have any way of defending herself, so she did what she did best: withdrew into herself and tried not to make things worse.

"Then again, your market value has decidedly increased since then," he continued, looking off absently into the distance. She'd realised where they were: the city docks. The sound of rushing waves had been just that: the sound of cold, icy water crashing against concrete, the taste of salt in the air. "So it's better off that I didn't kill you."

Cee just kept her head down, kept her mouth shut. She was terrified; fear and adrenaline ran through her veins like a heroin addict's first fix in months.

"Niccolò's on his way," he told her, noting how she almost flinched at his name - she couldn't help it. She'd never been so desperate to see someone in her life, and hearing his name forced a reaction from her. "He's furious." Cee couldn't stop a tiny smug glint in her eye; he'd kill them for touching her. He'd burn them all - and for the first time, she was glad he was ruthless. They'd tortured innocent people - Flo and Angela didn't deserve it - and now she'd led him right to them.

"I suppose I should thank you," Domenico continued, watching the glint turn from anticipation to confusion. "Romano is hard to lure out into the open." He shrugged, and Cee felt her heart stop. "Maybe getting three little victims was overkill, but then..." Cee's lungs shrivelled like burst balloons, sliced open. "It's not everyday you get a shot at the Romano Don."

Cee lost it. Red clouded her vision as she screamed profanities into the tape, pulling so hard at her restraints that her skin tore, her eyes watered. They'd tricked her - she thought she was saving two lives, and instead, she was condemning them all. She couldn't live with it - not Niccolò's death. Not Caterina's. Not Flo's, not Angela's, or Luca's or Leo's or anyone else - they'd have to kill her too.

Caito almost laughed, watching her struggle furiously. "He's going to agree to buy you all off me," he revealed, crouching down to her height, "and then I'm going to have someone put a bullet between his eyes."

Cee drew her head back and smashed her forehead straight into Domenico's nose, feeling the sting stab through her already pounding head, but enjoyed the sharp thrill of revenge as he staggered back, a small trickle of blood already dribbling down his face.

She didn't regret it, even as he kicked her in the stomach, making her double over and lose balance, before stamping on her fingers hard enough for her to feel a small snap. Tears leaked from her eyes out of pain and frustration but god, she hoped she'd broken his nose.

"Stupid bitch," he spat, wiping the blood on the back of his hand and glaring at her broken, curled up form. "I should shoot you now."

The sound of gravel crunching saved her. Domenico turned, forcing his anger down into a small, throbbing ball of fury, boiling and simmering. He couldn't wait for this.

"Don't worry, Camilla," he hissed, watching the car and van approaching. "I'll keep you alive long enough to watch him die."

---

Niccolò kept his gaze fixed straight ahead as Luca drove them towards the dock. It had taken them far too long to find the Caitos - the warehouse had clearly just been a drop off point - but now that he was here, the moment he saw Angela and Cee, he knew he'd jump out of the car without thinking. He knew it was a trap - Luca knew it was a trap - even Camilla must have realised by now that it was a trap.

Stefano's dead body had been lying in the warehouse, waiting for them, with a note pinned to his chest. Fifty million each. Luca had taken one look and realised their mistake: Anton had never been the rat. He'd protected his brother with his life, lying to save Stefano from torture and death. It was almost ironic how Anton had suffered for nothing; the Caitos clearly didn't like having loose ends.

The Caitos were asking for one hundred and fifty million dollars in US shares for the three girls. It had set off alarm bells for both Romanos - 150M wasn't short change, but the Caitos were in the same drug markets which meant they were turning over a hell of a lot more than that per year. And this was a risk for the Caitos - too big of a risk for it to be only worth $150,000,000.

So yes, it was a trap.

"Stop," Niccolò murmured to Luca, finally allowing his gaze to focus on the small group of shadows gathered 50 metres away, turning their faces away from the sharp headlights. The Caitos were an all male gang - they couldn't even face the possibility that women may be useful for something other than trafficking. But Niccolò focused on the one man he hadn't particularly expected, with his gaze firmly fixed onto the bonnet of the car.

"Domenico Caito," he noted bitterly to Luca, "not his father." Luca didn't reply, his hands tightening on the steering wheel.

"How are you so calm?" he gritted out eventually, his eyes locked onto Flo and Angela's silhouettes, barely visible behind the group of men and only illuminated by the headlights. "I want to kill them for touching them."

Niccolò jaw tensed as he cracked his knuckles, his broad chest expanding rapidly with each shallow breath. "I'm channelling my anger into action." Before Luca could reply, his boss had ducked out of the car, approaching the group of men like a plague waiting to be unleashed.