Enzo's Pov
Antonio slammed his hand against the desk, the sound echoing off the walls of his study. The half-empty glass of whiskey rattled, but he didn’t notice.
“It can’t be that he’s vanished into thin air!” he snapped, his voice sharp with frustration.
I didn’t flinch. I’d had the same reaction when I’d first gone over the investigation reports from New Orleans, every lead collapsing into nothing.
“He’s gone, Antonio,” I said evenly. “We think they got him out of the country, but we don’t know where.”
Antonio rubbed his jaw, pacing behind the desk. “Do you think the Bratva is involved?”
I shook my head. “An alliance with the Irish? I don’t think so. Those bastards are too egotistical to ally with anyone.”
Antonio let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, you’re right about that. And our al
