Chapter 21 Enzo
It’s been thirty-seven hours since I watched her disappear behind the glass doors of that subpar hotel. Thirty-seven hours without a word, a sighting, a single goddamn update. Not from her, and not from Caesar—the man I assigned to watch her the second I let her out of my car.
I don’t let things fall through the cracks.
Not in my club, not in my crew, and especially not when it comes to the woman who walked back into my life like she hadn’t left a crater in her wake.
I’ve built an empire by knowing where every piece sits on the board.
By keeping eyes on the things that matter.
And she matters—more than I want her to, more than I’ll admit to anyone but myself.
So when noon hits and I still haven’t heard a damn word, the quiet stretches too long, and my patience wears thin enough to cut glass.
Caesar doesn’t pick up his phone. My calls go unanswered, my messages ignored.
So I stop calling. I stop waiting. It doesn’t take long to locate him.
A contact in Eastside security feeds me an address, and now I stand in a shitty apartment building with paper-thin walls and an odor of stale beer and forgotten ambition.
I take the stairs two at a time and kick the door in without so much as a warning.
The place is exactly what I expected. Dim, stained, half-lived in.
He’s on the couch, slouched low, the amber neck of a bottle halfway to his mouth.
He startles when the door splinters open, but it’s too late to pretend he hasn’t been dodging me.
His shirt’s wrinkled and unbuttoned at the collar, sweat already gathering at his temples, like his body knows what’s coming before his brain catches up.
I don’t speak. Two of my men move in behind me, efficient and wordless.
They haul him up by the arms, dragging him toward the door while the bottle crashes to the floor and rolls under the coffee table.
He doesn’t fight. Doesn’t even lift his hands to protest. Just stares at me like a man already carving out his own eulogy in his head.
We take him to the warehouse near Union Stockyards.
The room I have in mind is soundproof, designed for situations like this.
By the time they shove him into the chair, I’m already waiting with my arms folded and my jaw tight.
A single bulb buzzes above us, harsh and flickering, revealing the sweat now soaking through Caesar’s shirt.
He looks up at me, lip trembling slightly, eyes wide.
No words. No excuses. Just the sound of his breathing, shallow and fast.
“Boss,” he croaks, wrists zip-tied behind the metal backrest. “I—I can explain.”
“I’m sure you can,” I say calmly. “But let’s make it interesting anyway.”
He jerks as one of my men steps forward and delivers a clean, punishing blow to the ribs. Bone cracks. Caesar chokes on a breath.
“I gave you one job,” I say evenly. “One. Follow the girl. Don’t be seen. Watch. Report.”
“I did!” he wheezes, coughing. “I did, Enzo, I swear—I followed her to the hospital. She went inside. But she never came out. I waited for hours—hours—and nothing. It was like she vanished.”
I nod, then gesture.
A second punch. This time, to the gut. He dry heaves.
“You’re telling me,” I say quietly, stepping closer, “that she walked into a hospital in broad daylight, and then disappeared into thin fucking air? And instead of alerting me the second something went sideways, you what? Went on a bender?”
His mouth opens. Nothing comes out but a hoarse sound somewhere between a sob and an excuse.
I crouch beside him, voice cold. “I expected more from you. And you know I don’t tolerate incompetence in my crew, Caesar. If something goes wrong, you tell me. You don’t disappear. You don’t hide.”
“I panicked,” he whispers. “She was gone. I didn’t know what to do.”
“You tell me. That’s what you do.” I stand again and pace, heart pounding. “You think I’d rather hear silence? You think I’m just going to sit on my ass while she has time to disappear again?”
My men stay silent. Smart.
Caesar’s head hangs. “I fucked up.”
“No,” I say. “You failed me.”
He flinches.
I stare at him for a long moment. The room reeks of sweat and fear, every breath he takes sounding like a confession he doesn’t have to give.
“She went to the hospital,” I mutter, more to myself than to him. “But she never came out.”
The possibilities claw at me in silence. Maybe she was hurt. Maybe she went there to meet someone. Maybe she realized she was being followed. No matter what the reason for her being gone, it all doesn’t sit well. I’m missing information.
My gut twists, not with rage, not even with betrayal, but with something far worse. Fear.
I never let a woman mean anything, because this is what happens when you do. Lilly didn’t just slip beneath my skin—she’s in my bloodstream. And now she’s vanished like smoke again, leaving me with nothing but shadows and a room full of excuses.
I turn back to Caesar, eyes narrowing. “You’re going to do better than this,” I say. “You’re going to give me every single detail. Who was there. What she wore. What time. Every fucking second she was in your sight.”
He nods furiously, desperate.
“Because if she’s hurt,” I add quietly, “I’m going to tear your eyes out since they are no use to me.”
I look to the others. “Get him cleaned up. Then put him in a cage until I decide what to do with him.”
They drag him out. I lean on the table, fists braced, trying to breathe.
She was right here. And now she’s gone.
I won’t let that stand.