Kidnapped by the Werewolf Mafioso

Chapter Twenty

GIANCARLO

The medical suite smells of antiseptic and jasmine—Isabella's attempts to mask the clinical sterility for supernatural patients who react badly to hospital environments. I lay Akiko's body on the examination table with care that belies the rage still burning through my veins. Her skin has taken on an alabaster quality, like marble given warmth but not life.

"Clear the room." Isabella's voice cuts through the gathering crowd. "Only essential personnel."

Marco hovers by the door, blood still drying on his clothes. Eddie fills the corner, shadows writhing around him in agitation. Quinn leans against the wall, form shifting subtly between breaths—a sign of exhaustion they'd never admit to.

"We stay," Marco says flatly.

Isabella starts to argue, but I cut her off. "They stay. Pack doesn't abandon pack."

She nods, understanding the precedent being set. In the corner, Noriko manifests more fully, frost spreading across medical equipment that probably shouldn't be exposed to supernatural cold.

"The kitsune's body maintains itself," the ice yokai reports. "But barely. Without the consciousness to guide it, autonomous functions will begin failing within days."

"Then we work fast." A woman enters—small, precise movements, black hair streaked with premature white. She carries a medical bag that hums with power. "Dr. Yuki Tanaka. I came as quickly as possible."

She approaches Akiko's body without hesitation, hands hovering inches above the skin. Golden light emanates from her palms, and I feel the bond react—not pain, but recognition.

"Fascinating." She murmurs in accented English. "The consciousness has been displaced, but not severed. The yokai were clever—they used the mate bond as an anchor." Her eyes find mine. "You're holding her tether. How does it feel?"

"Like holding smoke that's on fire." The description falls short of the reality. Through the bond, I sense Akiko's presence—distant, muffled, but undeniably there. Sometimes I catch fragments of what might be thoughts or emotions, but they slip away before I can grasp them.

"Good. That means the connection remains viable." Dr. Tanaka begins pulling instruments from her bag—some medical, some that belong in museums. "The challenge will be calling her back without damaging what the yokai have protected."

The door opens again. Father Miguel Santos enters, and my wolf immediately bristles. He smells of church incense and older things—power that predates Christianity, wrapped in a priest's collar. He's younger than I expected, maybe forty, with the kind of face that's seen too much.

"Mr. Morelli." He inclines his head. "Isabella explained the situation. Consciousness displacement is... delicate work."

"Can you fix it?"

"Fix implies something broken. This—" he gestures at Akiko's still form, "—is preservation. The yokai saved her from something worse than death. They saved her from having her essence shredded."

Dr. Tanaka nods agreement. "The blood magic the witch had used would have destroyed more than just the connection to the ninth tail. It would have unraveled her very self. The yokai chose separation over destruction."

"But we can bring her back?"

They exchange glances that make my wolf pace.

"With the right preparation, yes." Father Santos pulls out a leather journal, pages covered in multiple languages. "But first, we must deal with the lingering effects of Vivienne's magic. It clings to her like poison, preventing natural reconnection."

"So we find Vivienne and make her reverse it."

"If only it were that simple." Dr. Tanaka attaches monitoring equipment to Akiko, screens lighting up with readings that mean nothing to me. "Blood magic of this type can only be broken by the caster's death or..." she hesitates.

"Or?"

"Or by completing the ritual she started." Father Santos crosses himself. "Which would mean extracting the ninth tail—killing Akiko in the process."

The room temperature drops twenty degrees. Not from Noriko—from me. My control, already frayed, cracks further.

"Neither of those options ends with Akiko dead." My voice comes out more growl than words.

"No," Dr. Tanaka agrees quickly. "Which is why we need to find a third path. The mate bond offers possibilities. If we can strengthen it, use it as a bridge..."

"Tell me what you need."

They list requirements that sound more like alchemy than medicine. Specific herbs that only grow in moonlight. Water from Lake Michigan taken at exactly 3 AM. Blood willingly given from both mates—problematic when one mate's consciousness is elsewhere.

"I'll get what you need," Isabella promises. "But it will take time."

Time we don't have. Every hour Akiko remains split increases the risk of permanent damage. I touch her face, searching for any response. Her skin is cool, lifeless in a way that makes my chest tight.

Through the bond, I feel... something. A flutter of awareness, like fingers brushing against glass from the other side. She knows I'm here. Knows I'm trying.

"Boss." One of the were-raccoons—d**k—appears in the doorway. "We've got another problem."

Of course we do.

"Explain."

"The supernatural community knows something happened at the warehouse. Word's spreading that your mate is... compromised." He swallows nervously. "Some are seeing it as an opportunity."

"Who?"

"The yakuza sent a formal letter. They're 'concerned' about the ninth tail's safety. The Russians are mobilizing—Roger Volkov's been making calls. And..." he hesitates.

"Spit it out."

"Dimitri Angeloff is here. With Rafael. They're waiting in your office."

I look at Akiko's still form, torn between staying and dealing with threats. Dr. Tanaka makes the choice for me.

"Go. We need hours to prepare anyway. The body is stable for now." She pulls a white sheet over Akiko, and something in me snarls at the shroud-like imagery. "I'll call if anything changes."

The walk to my office feels like crossing a battlefield. Every instinct screams to return to Akiko, to guard her body until consciousness returns. But threats gather like storm clouds, and an Alpha who hides is an Alpha who's already lost.

Dimitri waits with unnatural stillness, Rafael tucked against his side. My brother looks better—the wounds from Navy Pier healed—but strain shows in how carefully he moves.

"Giancarlo." Dimitri inclines his head. "We heard about the warehouse."

"News travels fast."

"When it concerns the last true nine-tailed kitsune's fate? Yes." He studies me with ancient eyes. "Is it true? The yokai separated her consciousness?"

No point in lying. The supernatural community has its own intelligence networks, and showing weakness through deception is worse than admitting vulnerability.

"Temporarily. We're working on reconnection."

"And Vivienne?"

"Will be dead the moment I find her."

Rafael shifts, one hand on his swollen belly. "The baby's been restless since the pier. They respond to major magical disturbances, and what Vivienne did..." He shakes his head. "The entire supernatural community felt it. A disruption in the natural order."

"Which brings me to why we're here." Dimitri's expression hardens. "The vampires are willing to assist in hunting Vivienne. She's disrupted more than just your mate—she's thrown the entire balance of power into question."

"At what price?"

Because there's always a price with vampires. They don't offer aid from altruism.

"No price. Investment." He pulls out a phone, shows me messages scrolling past. "Every major faction is choosing sides. Those who think the ninth tail should be controlled versus those who believe it should remain with its rightful bearer. War is coming whether we want it or not."

"And you're choosing our side?"

"I'm choosing family." His hand finds Rafael's. "Your brother carries my child. That makes this personal."

The door bursts open. Marco enters, supporting someone I don't immediately recognize. Then the scent hits—Harrison Carver, but wrong. His hair has gone completely white, his face aged decades in hours. He looks like a corpse that hasn't realized it's dead yet.

"He showed up at the front entrance," Marco explains. "Alone. Unarmed. Babbling about needing to help."

Harrison's eyes find mine, and there's nothing of the corporate puppetmaster left. Just hollow terror.

"She'll kill us all." His voice cracks like old paper. "Vivienne. You don't understand what she's planning. What the ninth tail means to her grand design."

"Then explain."

He laughs, the sound sharp enough to cut. "Twenty years. Twenty years I thought I was the one in control. Thought she was just another trophy wife with useful connections." He grips the chair arms hard enough to splinter wood. "I was her puppet. Every decision, every move—all hers."

"We know she's Gaelic tradition. Werewolf witch."

"You know nothing." Spittle flies from his lips. "She's not just Gaelic tradition. She's the last true practitioner of the Morrigan's path. Battle-crow magic. Death and prophecy and power stolen from the dying." His hands shake. "The ninth tail isn't just power to her. It's the final component in something that's been building for centuries."

"What component?"

"The Morrigan requires three aspects—maiden, mother, crone. Vivienne has been collecting them. Young witches who disappear. Pregnant women who vanish. Elderly practitioners found drained." He looks at Rafael's belly with hunger that makes Dimitri snarl. "She needs the ninth tail to bind them all together. To become something that hasn't walked the earth since the old gods went silent."

The room goes still. Even Marco stops pacing.

"You're saying she wants to become a god?"

"Not become. Resurrect. Channel. Give the Morrigan new flesh." Harrison laughs again. "And once she does, the first thing she'll do is reclaim every werewolf bloodline that's strayed from the old ways. Starting with yours."

Through the bond, I feel Akiko's presence flicker. Stronger for a moment, as if responding to the threat. Then it fades again, leaving me grasping at shadows.

"Where is she?"

"I don't know. She has places I was never allowed. But..." He reaches into his jacket with shaking hands. Marco tenses, but Harrison just pulls out a leather journal. "She kept records. Always writing, always planning. I stole this before I ran."

I take the journal, feeling power pulse from the leather. The pages are covered in multiple languages, diagrams that hurt to look at, lists of names with dates beside them. Some crossed out. Some circled in red.

"Boss." Quinn materializes from shadow. "The Russians just pulled up outside. Three cars. They're not making aggressive moves, but..."

But they're here. Circling. Waiting to see if the Morelli pack is weak enough to challenge.

"Handle them," I order Marco. "Polite but firm. We're not receiving visitors today."

He nods, heading out with predatory grace. Dimitri rises as well.

"We should go. But Giancarlo—" He pauses at the door. "The vampire council has resources. Archives about the old gods. If Vivienne truly seeks to channel the Morrigan..."

"We'll need all the help we can get." The admission costs pride I can't afford. "Thank you."

They leave, taking Harrison with them for further questioning. Alone, I open Vivienne's journal properly, searching for anything that might lead to her location.

The entries go back years. Detailed accounts of ritual preparations. Shopping lists for components that turn my stomach. And throughout, references to Akiko. To the ninth tail. To plans within plans within plans.

One entry catches my eye, dated just a week ago:

The warehouse is prepared. If the initial extraction fails, the backup sites are ready. The old church on Ashland. The abandoned hospital in Cicero. The boat in Belmont Harbor. Each holds what I need to complete the working.

Three locations. Three chances to find her.

I'm reaching for my phone when agony rips through the bond. Not my pain—Akiko's. Something's happening to her consciousness wherever the yokai have hidden it. The echo of her scream makes my wolf howl.

I run for the medical suite, journal forgotten. Dr. Tanaka meets me at the door, face grim.

"What's happening?"

"We're not sure. Her body just started convulsing. Temperature spiking. And the readings..." She shows me a monitor displaying brain activity. The lines spike and dance in patterns that speak of struggle. "Something's pulling at her consciousness. Trying to drag it back, but wrong. Forced."

"Vivienne?"

"Possibly. Or..." She hesitates.

"What?"

"Or the ninth tail is rejecting its prison. Power like that isn't meant to be contained indefinitely. It wants to be free."

I push past her to Akiko's side. Her body arches off the table, muscles locked in seizure. Through the bond, I feel her consciousness thrashing against invisible restraints. Fighting something. Fighting to return? Or fighting to stay hidden?

"Akiko." I grip her hand, pouring everything through our connection. Love. Strength. Promise of safety. "I'm here. Come back to me."

For a moment, I swear I feel her respond. A flutter of recognition. Of want.

Then the seizure passes, leaving her limp and still once more. But something's changed. The bond feels different. Stronger? Or more strained?

"We're running out of time," Father Santos observes from the corner. "Whatever Vivienne's planning, it's already in motion."

I know. Can feel it in my bones. The clock ticking down to catastrophe.

Three locations. Three chances. And somewhere between heartbeats, my mate fights a battle I can't help her win.

But I'll tear Chicago apart trying.