Chapter 17 – Search Begins

Selena

Enzo gripped my hand tightly as we strode into the warehouse, his whole aura shifting to that of a commanding Mafia Don. I could feel the lethal intensity rolling off him in waves.

"Alright, listen up!" Enzo barked, his voice carrying authority. All the gang members immediately snapped to attention. "We have a major situation. Our shipment from the docks was hijacked last night."

A tense murmur went through the crew at his words. Enzo held up a hand for silence, his eyes blazing.

"This was an act of disrespect, of war against our name," he stated slowly. "And we will respond in kind until the culprits are annihilated."

The men stayed utterly still, knowing better than to speak out of turn when their Don was issuing orders. I stepped forward then, allowing my own aura of deadly calm to radiate through the room.

"My sources have already begun gathering intelligence," I said, keeping my voice even and focused. "We will find whoever thought they could steal from us and enact severe repercussions."

Enzo turned to me with a look of fierce pride. "My consigliere is a woman of many talents. You would all do well to follow her lead as closely as mine."

The soldiers gave me respectful nods, their apprehension clear. They knew my reputation for being as ruthless and efficient as Enzo himself when it came to strategic planning.

"Luciano, Giovanni," Enzo snapped out two names. "You two will take teams and hit the streets – shake down our usual rats for any information."

The two button men nodded curtly. "Understood, Don Enzo."

"Luca, set up surveillance operations covering every known faction in the area. I want eyes and ears everywhere until we locate the culprits."

"Right away, sir."

As Enzo continued rattling off orders and assignments to his inner circle, I allowed my gaze to sweep coolly across the assembled men. Already, the analytical side of my mind was kicking into overdrive – considering potential suspects, running scenarios, mapping out our contingencies.

Despite their fearsome reputations, Chicago's underworld was a relatively small, incestuous pool of families and factions constantly jockeying for dominance and swindling each other. If someone had indeed Made a move against us, retribution would be swift and absolute.

No one stole from the Ceravos and walked away unscathed. We would locate the transgressors, determine their insult...and then exterminate them without mercy. This is what it meant to be Mafia elite.

Once Enzo had issued his directives, he turned back to me with that wolfish grin I loved so much. "Well, consigliere? What's our next play from here?"

I smirked right back at my alpha, feeling that familiar sense of powerful synergy between us. Despite the stressful situation, I couldn't deny the absolute thrill of going to the proverbial mattresses with my mate at my side.

"We hit our trusted sources for any information on who might have the cohones to try ripping us off," I stated matter-of-factly. "Leverage our contacts in the docks, on the streets – whatever it takes to smoke out potential rats in the operation."

Enzo's grin widened with undisguised arousal at my pragmatic ruthlessness. "My fierce little luna...always two steps ahead."

Before our crew could witness any impropriety, I cleared my throat and continued officiating in my most professional tone. "Marco, set up a direct secure line for any updates from out in the field. Use the red phones only – I don't want even a whisper of this getting out on open channels."

"You got it, Ms, Selena" the gruff soldier acknowledged quickly.

I shot him a look. "I believe I've corrected you about that title enough times already, Marco."

The big man actually flushed a bit, properly chastened. "Er...sorry, Mrs. Morretti. Force of habit."

"See that it becomes less of one," I rejoined crisply. "Otherwise, I may be forced to make more of a habit of disciplining my husband's men for such disrespect."

The subtle threat hung in the air, driving home that though I was Enzo's fiance and partner, I commanded the same fear and deference from our underlings as he did. Wisely, Marco simply gave a sheepish nod and moved to follow my orders without further comment.

Satisfied, I turned my attention back to Enzo, who was gazing at me with a mixture of amusement and bedroom eyes.

"Easy, killer," he rumbled in a low tone meant only for my ears. "Save some of that sadistic energy for the bedroom later."

I rolled my eyes at his typical alpha antics, though I couldn't quite suppress my own impish smile. "Are you volunteering to be disciplined yourself, amore?"

Enzo simply chuckled and gave my backside an audacious swat before sweeping out of the warehouse, knowing I would follow at his side as always.

As we exited and his sleek sedan pulled up with the rest of our convoy, I felt that familiar sense of empowered clarity lock into place. This was the life I had been born for – navigating both the luxuries and brutal underbelly of empire with my Mafia Lord, dispensing wisdom and ruthlessness as needed.

Though other Mafia wives and mistress might chafe at the denial of titles or social niceties, I never desired such empty platitudes. My place was at Enzo's side as partners, generals bringing equal ferocity to the field of engagement.

Whatever obstacles or threats sought to undermine our family's dominance, we would crush them with impunity. The Morretti answered to no one – we shaped reality through sheer force of will and merciless cunning.

Our rivals would soon learn the folly of attempting to cross us. And in the end, Enzo and I would reign supreme as we always did through combined brilliance and brutality.

The next several hours were a whirlwind of intense activity as Enzo and I kicked our operations into high gear. We may have been blindsided by this brazen act against our family, but we wouldn't stay in the dark for long.

While Enzo coordinated setting up surveillance and fielding updates from his soldiers out gathering information, I went to work tapping into my own network of sources across the city. Despite my relatively young age, I had carefully cultivated a web of informants and embedded spies that extended deep into Chicago's underbelly.

My first call was to Paulie, an aging wiseguy who ran the biggest illegal betting ring on the South Side. Despite his sleazy tendencies, the man was a vault when it came to underground gossip.

My first call was to Paulie "The Vault" Gianelli, an aging wiseguy who ran the biggest illegal betting ring on the South Side. Despite his sleazy tendencies and wandering eye, the man was an absolute vault when it came to underground gossip circulating among Chicago's underworld players.

Paulie's seedy gambling den was a hub where made men, hustlers, and all manner of shady characters would congregate - blowing fortunes at the tables while freely exchanging whispers and rumors between bets. With his weathered mug and talent for blending into the background, The Vault had culled a reputation as an unshakable wellspring of criminal intelligence.

What made him so invaluable was his supreme discretion and neutrality in the game. Paulie never played favorites or took sides, maintaining an air of trustworthy impartiality that enticed even our rival families to feel comfortable frequenting his establishment and loosening their lips. He simply absorbed all the juicy info like a sponge, trading morsels here and there but never divulging full stories unless properly motivated.

His intelligence gathering skills were utterly unparalleled in this city, making The Vault an asset that every crime boss from the Outfits to the Ramblers cultivated through generous bribes, brutal threats, or usually some combination of both. When serious situations erupted and they needed an ear to the street's rumblings, all paths led to creasing Paulie's perpetually grubby palm.

So when I came calling with my silken voice and pointed inquiries, the crafty old bastard knew the situation was code red serious. He would have to carefully walk that line, sharing just enough crumbs to satisfy the Cerravos' infamous consigliere without voiding that sacred vow of omertà that allowed his whole operation to thrive.

Still, I knew how to manipulate The Vault's basic weaknesses - his greed, his roaming eye, his hunger for feeling like a player rather than just an insignificant errand boy. With the proper blushing mannerisms and suggestive double-entendres laced between my pointed questions, I could usually coax forth the seeds of valuable information from that withered husk.

"Paulie, it's your favorite lady caller," I purred into the phone once he finally picked up. "I need the latest down low from those streets of yours."

"Selena, bella!" The gravelly voice instantly took on a more ingratiating tone. "To what do I owe the honor? Got a hot tip for me on the ponies this week?"

"Maybe next time, Paulie," I replied smoothly. "Right now, I'm more interested in who's been talking big game about making a move on the outfits recently. You hear any rumblings like that going around?"

I could practically see the weaselly man's eyes narrowing as he picked up what I was really asking. Even bottom-feeders like Paulie knew to take deadly seriously whenever I inquired about potential underworld power plays.

"Well..." He uttered, making me smirked I know he's the real deal.