THE KING'S LAST GAMBLE

The Missing Heir

Adrian's phone had been dead for six hours.

Dominic stared at the map of Chicago spread across his desk, red pins marking the last known locations of his son's team. The warehouse. The safehouse. The meeting point. All silent. All dark.

"Tell me again," Dominic said.

Marco stood across from him, his face grim. "Adrian's team hit Sal's operation in the South Side at midnight. They took the warehouse, killed four of Sal's men, and secured the product. Then they called for extraction."

"And?"

"The extraction team found the warehouse empty. No Adrian. No bodies. Nothing but blood on the floor."

Dominic's hand tightened on the edge of the desk. Blood. Adrian's blood or someone else's—there was no way to know.

"Who was on his team?"

"Six men. All experienced. All loyal."

"Were any of them found?"

"No."

Dominic closed his eyes. Six men and his son, vanished without a trace. Sal hadn't just ambushed them. He had erased them.

"Get me Vincent," Dominic said. "Now."

---

Vincent arrived within the hour, still wearing the clothes he had worn in Miami, his face bruised from the fight on the yacht. He listened without interrupting as Dominic told him what had happened.

"Sal knew Adrian was coming," Vincent said when Dominic finished. "He knew the route, the timing, the extraction point."

"Which means someone told him."

"Or someone on Adrian's team was already working for Sal." Vincent paused. "There's something else. When I was on the yacht, Sal mentioned that Chicago and Atlanta were already burning. He knew about both operations before they even started."

Dominic looked at him. "He knew about your operation too."

"Yes. He was waiting for me."

"But you survived."

"I survived because my men came back for me. Adrian's men might not have had that chance."

Dominic turned away, staring out the window at the gray morning sky. His chest ached, and his heart was beating too fast. He had sent his son into a trap. He had known the risks, and he had sent him anyway.

"Luca," he said. "Has he checked in?"

"Not yet. But Atlanta is quieter than Chicago. Maybe he's laying low."

"Or maybe he's dead too."

Vincent didn't answer.

Dominic picked up his phone and dialed Luca's number. It rang four times before going to voicemail.

"Luca. Call me the moment you get this. No delays."

He hung up and placed the phone on the desk. His hands were shaking.

"I should have gone myself," he said quietly. "I should have handled Sal directly instead of sending them into his territory."

"You couldn't have known," Vincent said.

"I should have. I've been fighting this war for thirty years. I know how Sal thinks. I know how he operates. And I still walked my own son into a trap."

"Adrian is smart. He's survived worse."

"Has he?" Dominic turned back to face Vincent. "Adrian has spent his entire life trying to prove he's worthy of my throne. He takes risks he shouldn't take. He trusts people he shouldn't trust. And now—"

He stopped. The words wouldn't come.

"Now we find him," Vincent said. "We find him and we bring him home."

Dominic looked at him for a long moment. Then he nodded.

"Take whoever you need. Go to Chicago. Find my son."

"And if he's already dead?"

Dominic's face didn't change. "Then you bring me the man who killed him."

---

Three hours later, Dominic sat alone in his study when his phone buzzed. A text from Luca:

Alive. Atlanta is handled. Sal's operation here is destroyed. I'm coming home.

Dominic exhaled slowly. One son safe. One still missing.

He typed back: Adrian is missing in Chicago. Come to the estate when you land.

A pause. Then: I know. I heard. I'll be there tonight.

Dominic set the phone down and looked at the map. Chicago was still covered in red pins. Somewhere in that city, his eldest son was either dead or fighting to stay alive.

His phone buzzed again. A text from the unknown number:

One son down, one son running home. Which one will you choose to save?

Dominic typed back: Where is Adrian?

The response came fast: He's alive. For now. But if you want him back, you'll have to give me something in return.

What?

Your empire. All of it. Every shipment, every contact, every dollar. You walk away, and your son lives.

Dominic stared at the message. Sal wasn't just trying to destroy him. He was trying to take everything—the empire Dominic had spent thirty years building.

You think I would give up everything for one son?

I think you're a father. And fathers do stupid things for their children.

Dominic's hand tightened on the phone. Then he typed: You'll get nothing from me. Not a dollar. Not a contact. If you kill Adrian, I'll hunt you down and make sure you die screaming.

A long pause. Then: You've changed, old man. The Dominic I remember would have sacrificed his own mother for the empire.

You never knew me.

No. But I know your sons. And I know they'll tear each other apart before this is over. Adrian already suspects Luca of working with me. Luca suspects Vincent. And Vincent suspects everyone. You built a family on suspicion and fear. Now it's eating itself alive.

Dominic didn't respond. He placed the phone on the desk and stared at the wall.

Sal was right. His family was fracturing. His sons were turning on each other. And the traitor was still out there, feeding information to the enemy.

But Dominic wasn't going to give up. Not yet. Not while he still had breath in his body.

He picked up the phone and called Federico.

"I need you to find someone," Dominic said. "A man named Carlo Vespucci. He was Sal's security chief in Miami. Vincent wounded him during the escape. He might still be in the city."

"And if I find him?"

"Bring him to me. Alive. I don't care what it costs."

Federico was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "There's something you should know. I've been doing some digging on my own. About the leak."

"And?"

"And I think I know who it is."

Dominic's chest tightened. "Who?"

"I'll tell you when I have proof. But I need you to be ready for it to be someone you trust."

"I'm always ready."

"No, Dominic. You're not. This time, it's going to hurt."

---

That night, Luca arrived at the estate. He looked tired, his clothes rumpled, his eyes hollow. But he was alive.

"Atlanta is secure," he said. "Sal's operation there is gone. I brought proof."

He placed a folder on Dominic's desk. Dominic didn't open it.

"Adrian is still missing," Dominic said.

"I know. I've already got people looking."

"Who?"

"Men I trust. Men who aren't on Sal's payroll."

Dominic studied his son. Luca looked exhausted, but there was something else in his eyes—something Dominic couldn't name.

"You said you had proof about Vincent," Dominic said. "The warehouse. The meetings. Was any of it true?"

Luca was silent for a moment. Then he said, "I don't know anymore. I thought I saw something. But after what happened in Chicago—" He shook his head. "Maybe I was wrong about him."

"Maybe you were wrong about a lot of things."

Luca met his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I don't know who to trust anymore. I don't know if you're telling me the truth. I don't know if Vincent is loyal. I don't even know if Adrian is still alive. And I'm running out of time to figure it out."

Luca's expression hardened. "I'm not the enemy, Father. I never was."

"Then prove it." Dominic pushed the folder back toward him. "Find your brother. Bring him home. And if you can't do that, find the person who took him."

Luca picked up the folder. "And if I find the traitor along the way?"

"Then bring them to me. Alive."

Luca nodded and walked to the door. He paused with his hand on the handle.

"There's something else," he said. "Something I should have told you weeks ago."

Dominic waited.

"Adrian wasn't just meeting with Sal's people. He was trying to negotiate a truce. He thought if he could make a deal with Sal, he could protect the family from a war."

"And you didn't tell me this because?"

"Because I wanted him to fail. I wanted you to see him as the traitor so I could take his place."

The words hung in the air between them.

"You're admitting this now?" Dominic said.

"I'm admitting it because I was wrong. Adrian was trying to save the family in his own stupid way. And now he might be dead because I let my ambition get in the way."

Dominic stared at his son. For a moment, he saw the boy Luca had been—quiet, thoughtful, always trying to prove himself. Then the moment passed.

"Find your brother," Dominic said. "And when you do, you'll have a chance to make things right."

Luca nodded and left.

Dominic sat alone in the darkness, his phone buzzing with another message from Sal:

Tick tock, old man. The clock is running out.

He turned off the phone and looked at the photograph on his desk—his sons, young and innocent.

Then he picked up the phone and called Vincent.

"Change of plans," he said. "I'm going to Chicago myself."