Impure Vows (Dark Mafia Duet #1)

30. Dante

The party is in chaos, a murmur of nervous voices filling the air. My men scour every corner, checking behind curtains and in locked rooms. The tension in the room is thick enough to cut with a knife. I pace the length of the grand hall, eyes darting to every shadow.

"Find her," I bark at Marco, who nods and heads toward the staircase.

He comes back empty-handed, and I can feel my blood boiling. "Anything?" I ask, my voice low and dangerous.

"Nothing, boss. We checked everywhere."

I clench my fists, fighting the urge to smash something. The frustration gnaws at me, threatening to explode. "Keep looking," I snap, the words dripping with venom. My eyes bore into Marco, making sure he understands there will be hell to pay if they don’t find her.

Marco hesitates, then approaches me with a grave expression. "There's something else," he says, his voice cautious.

I stop pacing and glare at him, every muscle in my body taut with barely restrained fury. "What now?" I demand, my voice a dangerous growl.

Marco swallows hard, avoiding my eyes. "Carlo's missing too," he says, his tone laced with unease.

I roar in frustration, the sound echoing off the walls. My hands clench into fists, the rage bubbling just beneath the surface. Marco stands there, the best man I have, and yet here we are, with Aliyah vanished into thin air. Things are looking pretty fucking bleak.

"Look again!" I bellow, my voice slicing through the air. My men scatter, a flurry of activity as they rush to obey. I refuse to believe she's just gone. Not Aliyah. Not my Aliyah.

Marco steps closer, his face tight with concern. "Boss, we've checked everywhere. It's like she disappeared."

I turn to him, my eyes narrowing. "Then check again," I growl. "I want every inch of this place searched. She has to be here."

Marco nods, his determination matching mine. "We'll get her, boss."

As he leaves, I take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside me. Aliyah is out there, somewhere. And I will find her. No matter what it takes.

My men scatter, the urgency in their movements reflecting my own growing panic. I can't believe I let her out of my sight. That bastard Carlo must have been planning this all along, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

The rage inside me boils over and I slam my fist into the wall, the sharp pain barely registering through my fury. "This isn't over," I mutter to myself, my voice a low, dangerous growl. "I'll tear this city apart if I have to. No one takes what's mine and gets away with it."

My fists clench, the fury boiling inside me like molten lava. I have to do something. I spot one of Carlo’s men—his right-hand piece of shit—hovering near the bar, eyes darting nervously. Perfect.

I stride over, grab him by the front of his shirt, and yank him close until we're almost nose-to-nose. "Where’s Carlo?" I hiss, my voice ice-cold, sharp enough to slice through steel. His eyes widen in fear, the stench of his sweat mingling with the smoky air. "Tell me now, or I'll make sure you regret the day you were born."

The man’s eyes widen, fear creeping in, making him look like a cornered rat. "I-I don’t know, Mr. Russo. I swear."

"Wrong answer," I growl, my voice a low, dangerous rumble. Without hesitation, I pull out my gun. The cold steel feels good in my hand, like an extension of my rage, a promise of retribution. I press the barrel against his temple, feeling the slight tremor in his body. "Last chance," I hiss, my patience wearing thin. "Where. Is. Carlo?"

He stammers, but the words are useless. Without hesitation, I pull the trigger. The shot rings out, a deafening crack that reverberates through the room, mingling with the gasps and screams that erupt around us. Blood splatters my face, warm and sticky, a visceral reminder of the power I wield. I drop his lifeless body to the ground, his eyes still wide with unspoken terror. My gaze sweeps the room, cold and calculating, already seeking the next target, the next soul to break.

The party descends into chaos, guests scrambling like frightened rodents, but I remain laser-focused. Through the haze of panic, I zero in on another Vitale, a rat-faced little prick who's trying to slink away unnoticed. I stride over, my grip like a vice as I seize him by the collar and yank him close.

"Carlo. Where is he?" My voice is a low growl, leaving no room for mercy.

He shakes his head frantically, tears streaming down his face, mixing with the sweat of his fear. "Please, I don’t know! I swear!" His words are a desperate plea, but I can see the truth—or lack of it—in his eyes.

I don’t hesitate. Another shot, another body hits the floor. The screams grow louder, the crowd pushing towards the exits. I’m seeing red, my vision tunneled on my prey.

I grab the next man in line, yanking him up by his collar. "You better have a different answer," I snarl.

He’s trembling so hard he can barely speak. "I don’t know! He left right before?—"

I shoot him, cutting off his pathetic excuse. The sound is almost drowned out by the chaos around me. Bodies scatter, the scent of fear and blood thick in the air.

I grab another Vitale, a tall man with a scar across his cheek. He looks defiant, which only fuels my rage. "Where the fuck is Carlo?"

He spits at me, and I see red. "Fuck you, Russo."

The bullet takes him down, and I toss his body aside like trash. I’m a man possessed, a fucking demon. Each shot is a promise—Carlo will pay for taking Aliyah.

My grip tightens around the handle of my gun as I move through the crowd, each step fueled by rage and desperation. Bodies scatter, blood staining the once-pristine floor. My eyes scan the room, seeking the snake who dared to take what’s mine.

And then I see him, standing at the far end of the room, his eyes locking onto mine. Carlo Vitale, standing near the bar, a smug look on his face. The room goes silent as our eyes lock. My blood boils, the rage coursing through my veins like a wildfire. This ends tonight.

"Where the fuck is she?" I demand, my voice a low growl.

Carlo raises an eyebrow, looking around at the carnage. "You’ve gone mad, Dante," he says, shaking his head. "I don’t have your little pet."

"Bullshit," I snarl, stepping closer. "I know you took her."

He laughs, a cold, mocking sound. "You’ve lost it, Russo. I never touched her."

I can feel the rage boiling over, my finger itching to pull the trigger. "Then where the fuck is she?" I yell, the force of it grating my throat.

Carlo’s expression darkens, his gaze sweeping the room. "You think you can slaughter my men and walk away unscathed?"

"You’re not walking away from this either, Carlo," I spit back, my gun steady. "Tell me where she is."

He smirks, crossing his arms. "You’ve declared war tonight, Dante. There’s no going back."

I laugh, a bitter, humorless sound. "War? You think I’m afraid of you?"

"You should be," he replies, his voice dripping with menace. "I’ll burn your empire to the ground."

Carlo's smug face triggers a volcanic surge of anger within me. The bastard thinks he's got the upper hand, but he's dead wrong. This war, it started the moment he laid a finger on her. Aliyah's mine, and no two-bit, underhanded snake like Carlo is going to change that.

I stand there, glaring at him, the weight of my gun in my hand a solid reminder of the power I wield. I don't need to prove anything; the bodies littering the floor speak volumes. But this, this is personal.

The Vitales have always been a thorn in my side, and now they've made the fatal mistake of taking what's mine. Carlo's casual dismissal of his involvement only fuels my certainty. People don't just vanish into thin air. They leave trails, whispers, shadows that cling to the walls and echo in the silence. All I need to do is think, strategize, and play my cards right.

I'll find her. I always do. And when I do, the bastard who dared to cross me will pay with his life. The hunt is on.

I take a step closer to Carlo, my gun still aimed at his chest. "You think this is a game?" I snarl, my voice low and deadly. "You think you can just take what's mine and get away with it?"

Carlo's eyes flicker for a moment, a hint of doubt marring his confidence. "Dante, you're overreacting. I told you, I didn't take her."

I laugh, a sound that's more a growl than anything human. "Lies. Your men, your moves, it's all been leading to this. You wanted a war, Carlo? You've got one."

He holds my gaze, but I see the flicker of fear in his eyes. He knows he's stepped into the lion's den, and there's no way out. I press the barrel of the gun against his forehead, my finger twitching on the trigger.

"Last chance, Carlo. Where is she?"

His lips press into a thin line, and he shakes his head. "Go to hell, Russo."

I smile, cold and unforgiving. "You first."

The room holds its breath, waiting for the shot that will end it all. But I don't give them the satisfaction. Not yet. I lower the gun and step back, my decision made.

"You're going to wish you'd never been born, Carlo," I promise, my voice echoing through the tense silence. "This is far from over."

I turn on my heel and walk away, leaving the party in ruins behind me. I have work to do, and I won't rest until Aliyah is back where she belongs—with me.