The Mighty Marco Alessandro

Furious

Third person POV

Marco hastily exited the jewelry shop, forgetting his purchase. He rushed to meet Alex, his expression urgent.

"What's wrong, General?" Alex asked, noticing Marco's haste.

"Do you know anything about the Saint family?" Marco inquired, his voice laced with concern.

Alex's eyes widened in surprise. "The Saint family? What about them, sir?"

"I need information on the Saint family," Marco pressed.

General Alex's expression turned from curiosity to concern. "What's going on, sir?"

Marco's impatience grew. "Just answer my question, Alex. Do you know the Saint family?"

Alex exhaled slowly. "There are many Saint families, but one stands out. They're a powerhouse in the business world, ranking among the top four. Their eldest child serves in the army."

"I doubt you're familiar with him, sir," Alex said. "He's below your rank."

Marco's focus remained fixed. "That's irrelevant. Where can I find the Saint family's residence or headquarters?"

Alex suggested, "We can search online or check business registries to gather more information."

"Do that fast, I need to get there as soon as possible" Marco says. Alex brought out his phone and go through the internet.

"I've got the address," Alex announced.

Marco didn't wait for Alex to open the door; he swiftly occupied the passenger seat. Alex hurried to the driver's seat, and they sped off.

"How long until we arrive?" Marco asked.

"About three hours, General," Alex replied. "We're heading to the city."

"Step on it," Marco replied.

As Alex accelerated, Marco scrolled through his contacts and dialed a soldier's number.

"General, sir!" a crisp voice answered on the other end.

"I need a favor," Marco said. "Track a phone number for me."

"I need location and owner details ASAP."

"Send the number, boss," the soldier replied.

Marco disconnected and sent the number via text. Moments later, the soldier called back.

Marco answered immediately.

"General, we've encountered an issue," the soldier said. "The number can't be traced; it's a prepaid burner phone."

Marco's anger simmered, his fist clenching and unclenching. Three hours passed.

Alex pulled up to an opulent estate and parked. "We're here, General."

Marco sprang out of the car, eyes fixed on the mansion. The sound of music and laughter drifted through the air.

Guards flanked the entrance, their presence imposing.

As Marco approached, a guard stepped forward, blocking his path.

"Your pass, sir?" he asked firmly.

"I'm here to see the owner of this mansion," Marco stated firmly.

The guard's expression remained unyielding. "I'm afraid that's impossible. They're hosting a private party, and entry requires a pass."

Marco's jaw clenched, his patience wearing thin. He cleared his throat, composing himself.

"I don't have time for this," Marco said, his voice low and even.

"I'm one of the extra guards hired for tonight," Marco said, hoping to deceive.

The guard scrutinized him from head to toe, then nodded at the familiar uniform. "Alright, you're good to go."

As Marco entered the mansion, laughter and music enveloped him. His eyes scanned the lavish party, his anger simmering.

He clenched and unclenched his fists, outrage burning within. How could they indulge in revelry while his wife and child were imprisoned?

Marco navigated through the sea of glamorous guests, his piercing gaze scanning the lavish party. Crystal chandeliers cast a dazzling glow, and the sound of clinking glasses and laughter filled the air. The aroma of exotic cuisine wafted from the buffet, enticing the senses.

He strode confidently to the VIP table, where the Saint family and their esteemed guests were seated. The table was a picture of opulence, with fine china, golden cutlery, and a breathtaking centerpiece.

Marco's eyes locked onto Reginald Saint, the mogul behind Saint Electronics. His face twisted in rage, Marco flipped the table over, sending glasses shattering, plates crashing, and champagne spilling.

The room fell silent, shocked gasps echoing through the sudden stillness.

"Are you out of your mind?" Reginald Saint thundered, his face purpling with outrage. His tailored tuxedo was now stained with wine and caviar.

Marco's eyes blazed with fury. "You'll know soon enough," he growled, his voice low and menacing.

The VIP guests scrambled to distance themselves from the chaos, their faces pale. Bodyguards rushed to intervene, forming a protective barrier around Saint.

Marco's gaze never wavered from Saint. "Tell me, Reginald, how does it feel to indulge in luxury while innocent lives suffer?"

Saint's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about, Mr?"

Marco's smile was cold. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"Guards, remove him immediately!" Reginald bellowed.

The guards closed in on him, their hands reaching out to restrain him, but he swiftly dispatched them with a single, powerful kick. The guards crashed to the ground, groaning in agony.

Undeterred, Reginald's assailant strode closer, his eyes blazing with fury. He grasped Reginald's lavish attire, dragging him forward with a fierce grip.

"Where did you put my wife and child?" Reginald's captor snarled, his voice low and menacing.

Reginald's face twisted in a mix of fear and defiance. "Guards! What are you all waiting for? Drag this uninvited guest out of here!" he yelled, but his plea fell on deaf ears.

The guards, still reeling from the sudden attack, struggled to regain their footing. They clutched their bruised ribs and battered heads, unable to respond to Reginald's desperate summons.

Marco's eyes blazed with desperation as he grasped Reginald's shoulders, his voice cracking with urgency. "Where's my family?"

Reginald's smirk infuriated Marco, who slapped him across the face with a resounding crack. Reginald's head snapped back, his cheeks flushing red.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Reginald lied, his voice steady despite the tremble in his hands.

Marco's grip relaxed, releasing Reginald from his vice-like hold. With a swift spin, Marco turned towards the grand estate, his long strides devouring the distance.

Reginald didn't hesitate, seizing the opportunity to flee. "Stop him!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the grounds.

Reginald's guards, still nursing their wounds, scrambled after Marco once more. Their footsteps pounded the pavement, closing in on their target.

Marco spun around, his eyes flashing a warning at the pursuing guards. "If you value your lives, you'll cease this foolishness and leave me be," he growled, his voice dripping with malice.

With that, Marco turned on his heel and strode into the grand estate, disappearing into its opulent depths. The guards hesitated, unsure whether to follow.

Marco fury was evident as he stormed through the building, kicking open doors with reckless abandon. The sound of splintering wood and crashing hinges echoed through the corridors.

Door after door swung open, revealing lavish rooms and startled occupants. Marco rampage continued unabated, driven by a desperate urgency.

After an eternity of searching, Marco pushed open the final door, revealing a dimly lit chamber. His heart skipped a beat as his gaze fell upon a tiny, delicate figure.

Seated on a velvet couch, surrounded by an entourage of heavily armed guards, was a young girl no more than five years old. Her bright, curious eyes sparkled in the faint light.

Marco's breath caught as he took in her face - the same piercing green eyes, the same mischievous grin, the same wild tangle of curly brown hair that he had as a child. His heart swelled with emotion.

One of the guards stepped forward, hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "Who are you?" he growled, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"Release her to me," Marco demanded, his voice firm and resolute.

One of the guards, clearly amused, burst into laughter. "You think you can just waltz in here and take her?" he sneered, taking a step closer to Marco.

The guard's hand rose, poised to strike, but Marco was quicker. He caught the guard's wrist mid-air, halting the impending blow.

In one swift motion, Marco kicked the guard squarely in the stomach, sending him crashing to the floor.

The other guards charged, but Marco was a force to be reckoned with. Fists flew, punches landed, and bodies clashed.

Marco fought with precision and desperation, fueled by his determination to protect his daughter.

Finally, the last guard slumped to the ground, defeated.

Breathless, Marco rushed to the velvet couch and swept his daughter into his arms.

"Where's your mummy?" he whispered, cradling her close.