A Father's Fear
Vincent's POV
The crystal glass broke against the wall, whiskey dripping down like tears as Vincent Romano's phone buzzed with the worst news of his life.
"Boss, we lost contact with Isabella's bodyguard twenty minutes ago," Tony's voice crackled through the speaker, tense and scared. "His GPS went dark near the children's hospital."
Vincent's hands shook as he grabbed the edge of his wood desk. In forty-seven years of life, thirty of them spent running Chicago's most powerful crime family, he'd never felt fear like this. When rival families threatened him, he stayed calm. When the FBI raided his businesses, he smiled. But when it came to his daughter...
"What do you mean you lost contact?" Vincent's voice was deadly quiet, the tone that made grown men admit their sins.
"Radio quiet, boss. Complete darkness. And there's something else..."
Vincent's blood turned to ice. "What?"
"The hospital security cameras went dark an hour ago. All of them. Someone cut the feeds professionally."
Vincent's mind raced. Isabella helped at that hospital every Thursday night, reading to sick children. It was the one part of her life he let her keep normal, the one place he thought she'd be safe because who would attack innocent kids?
Now that kindness might get her killed.
"Send everyone," Vincent barked into the phone. "I want fifty men at that hospital in ten minutes."
"Boss, there's more. We've got reports of... unusual behavior in the area."
"What kind of unusual?"
Tony hesitated. "Wolf sightings, sir. Multiple witnesses saw big wolves moving through the city. In groups."
Vincent's gut dropped. The Blackwood pack. He'd known this day would come eventually – the werewolves wanting revenge for the attack ten years ago that killed their alpha parents. But why now? Why Isabella?
"And sir?" Tony's voice got even quieter. "There's been reports of strange men in black suits asking questions about Miss Isabella at nearby businesses. They don't smell right, according to our sources who work with the supernatural community."
Don't smell right. In Vincent's world, that generally meant one thing: not human.
Vincent hung up and quickly dialed Isabella's number. It rang once, twice, three times. Then straight to voicemail.
"Hi, you've reached Isabella! I'm probably reading to kids or learning, so leave a message and I'll call you back!"
Her happy voice made his chest ache. When had he last told her he loved her? When had he last hugged his daughter without thinking about work calls or family meetings?
He tried again. Voicemail.
Again. Voicemail.
Vincent Romano, the man feared by half of Chicago's underworld, felt tears burning his eyes.
His office door burst open without a knock – something that would usually earn someone a bullet. His second-in-command, Roberto, rushed in with his face pale as death.
"Vincent, we've got a problem."
"If it's not about Isabella, I don't want to hear it."
"It is about Isabella." Roberto dropped a paper folder on the desk. "We intercepted conversations between the Blackwood pack and someone else. Someone with a lot of money and technology."
Vincent opened the folder with shaky hands. Inside were photographs taken with a long-range camera. Isabella at the hospital, playing with children. Isabella walking to her car. Isabella totally unaware she was being watched.
But it wasn't the Blackwood wolves in the shots.
"Who took these?" Vincent whispered.
"We don't know. The photos were brought to the Blackwood compound three days ago with a message: 'Take the girl Thursday night. Payment on delivery.'"
Vincent's world turned. Someone had paid the werewolves to kidnap his daughter. But who? And why use dogs instead of human mercenaries?
"There's more," Roberto said sadly. He flipped to the next page. "We found this burned in a trash can outside the Blackwood territory."
It was a partial deal, most of it destroyed by fire. But Vincent could make out enough words to make his blood freeze: "Subject Isabella Romano... live capture only... deliver to Facility 7... payment $10 million... no witnesses..."
"Ten million dollars," Vincent breathed. "Someone wants my daughter badly enough to pay ten million."
"Boss, who has that kind of money and wants Isabella specifically?"
Vincent's mind spun through options. Rival crime groups who wanted to hurt him through his daughter. Government organizations who might want to use her as leverage. Foreign crooks who knew she was his weakness.
But something about this felt different. Colder. More planned than revenge.
His private phone rang – the number only five people in the world knew. Vincent grabbed it.
"Papa?" Isabella's voice was weak, scared, but living.
"Isabella! Baby, where are you? Are you hurt?"
"I'm... I'm not sure where I am." Her voice was strange, faraway. "Papa, there were these things at the hospital. Not human. They had black eyes and they wanted to hurt the children."
Vincent's blood cooled. "What things? Isabella, talk to me."
"I can't remember everything clearly. My head hurts. But there was a young man who helped me. He had kind eyes, and he shielded the kids. Papa, I think I've seen him before, but I can't remember where."
A young guy who protected her. Vincent's paternal instincts warred with his criminal thoughts. Was this her kidnapper playing mind games, or had someone actually helped his daughter?
"Isabella, listen to me carefully. Do you see anything that tells you where you are?"
"Trees. Lots of trees. And there's a house. It smells like... like woods and something wild."
The Blackwood area. She was in werewolf land.
"Baby, I need you to stay calm. I'm coming for you."
"Papa, wait." Isabella's voice got urgent. "The young man who helped me – his name is Kieran. He says I'm safe here, but those black-eyed things are still looking for me. He says they're not human, and they'll hurt anyone who gets in their way."
Kieran. Vincent knew that name. Kieran Blackwood, the youngest son of the alpha family he'd ordered killed ten years ago. The boy who'd disappeared the night of the attack, believed dead.
"Isabella, you need to get away from there. Kieran Blackwood is not your friend. His family and ours have been foes for—"
"Papa, he saved my life!" Isabella's voice was fierce, protecting. "And he saved the children at the hospital. Whatever happened between our families, he didn't let those monsters hurt innocent kids."
Vincent felt the world moving under his feet. His daughter was protecting a Blackwood. A monster. The son of the people he'd ordered killed.
"Isabella, just... just stay safe until I can get to you."
"I will, Papa. But promise me something."
"Anything."
"Don't hurt him. Whatever our families did to each other, Kieran protected children tonight. Children with cancer, Papa. Babies who never hurt anyone. He could have let those things take me and walked away, but he didn't."
The line went quiet for a moment. Then Isabella's voice came back, but different. Scared.
"Papa, someone's coming. I have to go."
"Isabella, wait—"
The line went dead.
Vincent looked at the silent phone, his heart hammering in his chest. His daughter was living, but she was in the hands of werewolves. And worse, she was protecting them.
Roberto cleared his throat. "Boss, what are your orders?"
Vincent closed his eyes, thinking fast. Isabella was living, which meant the Blackwoods wanted her for something other than simple revenge. But who were the black-eyed things she mentioned? And why would someone pay ten million dollars for his daughter?
"Assemble the family," he said eventually. "All of them. I want every man we have ready to move."
"Against the werewolves?"
"Against whoever's really behind this." Vincent's eyes hardened. "The Blackwoods are small-time compared to someone with ten million to spend on kidnapping. Isabella said those things wanted to hurt children. That's not monster behavior – they have their own kids to protect."
Vincent moved to his safe and pulled out guns he hadn't touched in years. If someone wanted to play games with his daughter's life, they were about to learn why Vincent Romano had survived three decades in the criminal underworld.
"Roberto, I want you to contact Elena Rossi."
Roberto's eyes widened. "The doctor who treats both sides? Boss, she's not exactly loyal to us."
"No, but she's loyal to children. And if Isabella's right about what happened at the hospital, Elena will want answers too." Vincent loaded silver bullets into his gun – the only kind that worked on supernatural animals. "We're going to need allies for this fight."
"What makes you think we can trust the werewolves?"
Vincent looked at his daughter's smiling picture on his desk. "Because my daughter said they protected children. And Isabella has never lied to me about what matters."
His phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number: "Your daughter is just the beginning. Stop looking or more will die. You have 24 hours."
Vincent showed the message to Roberto, whose face went white.
"Boss, that's not from the Blackwoods. Their threats are more... direct."
"No," Vincent agreed grimly. "This is from whoever's pulling the strings."
Another text: "Check the hospital."
Vincent's blood turned to ice. He speed-dialed Tony.
"Boss?"
"The hospital. Tell me everyone got out safe."
"Well, that's the thing, boss. When our men arrived, the children's ward was empty. But there was no sign of fight, no blood, nothing broken. It's like the kids just... disappeared."
Vincent nearly dropped the phone. "What do you mean vanished?"
"Twelve sick children, gone. And boss? The nurses say they don't remember anything about tonight. It's like their memories were wiped."
Vincent sank into his chair as the horrible truth crashed over him. This wasn't about payback or money or territory. Someone was collecting people – starting with fragile children and his daughter.
And they had technology that could remove memories.
Roberto leaned forward. "Boss, what do we do?"
Vincent looked at the threatening text message, then at his daughter's picture. Somewhere out there, Isabella was with werewolves who might be the only thing standing between her and something much, much worse.
"We do something I never thought I'd do," Vincent said softly. "We team up with the Blackwoods."
"Boss?"
"Because whoever took those children is coming back for more. And next time, they might succeed."
Vincent's phone buzzed one more time. A picture message: twelve empty hospital beds and the words "24 hours" written in what looked like blood on the wall.
The war was no longer between Romano and Blackwood.
It was between all of them and something that hunted children.