CHAPTER XI
“ W here’s Matteo?” my uncle asked.
“He went to pick up Mya.” I replied, rifling through document after document and not finding shit.
“They’re releasing her?” Uncle’s voice held a note of surprise.
I got it, she was shot in the chest, but Mya was strong. She could overcome anything. Though even as strong as she was, she needed to be at home, surrounded by her family where she’d be cared for.
“Yes. She’s finally ready to come home.”
A knock on the door interrupted us.
“Who is it?” I called out.
Miguel stepped inside. “Boss, Enzo is here.”
I nodded, gesturing for him to come in.
Enzo strode in, raising a document above his head like a flag of urgency. “I got something.”
He approached my desk, placing the document down and taking a seat beside my uncle.
“Just give me the Cliff Notes version,” I said in irritation. Time was not on our side, and I didn’t have the patience to sift through any more stacks of papers.
“Lana was a sex trafficking victim.”
“What?” My uncle’s voice was laced with disbelief. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Enzo replied, his gaze unwavering as he met my eyes.
“I ran her background through our usual channels, but then I decided to involve Homeland Security. They have access to deeper resources regarding immigration and security clearance. I cross-checked her facial recognition with missing persons files. Her face came up as a match.” He slid a photo across the desk.
“That is Anya Belova. She is the daughter of Irina and Matvey Belova from Yekaterinburg, Russia.”
I snatched the photo, my heart sinking as I looked at the girl staring back at me. Lana seemed so innocent in this picture. “How old was she here?” I asked.
“Thirteen,” Enzo replied.
“Jesus,” Luca muttered, his face twisted in disgust.
“Her parents reported her missing when she didn’t come home from school one day,” Enzo continued.
“How long has she been in the States?” Lo asked as he walked toward my desk.
“Since she was sixteen,” Enzo said. If Lana was twenty-one now, that meant she’d been in the US for a little over five years.
“How do you know she was trafficked?” Uncle pressed. “That’s a bit of a stretch, isn’t it?”
“Her picture was on Mayor Walsh’s sex trafficking ring list.”
“So you’re thinking the Puppet Master bought her and placed her in Nico’s home? You think she’s the mole?” Luca interjected, gazing above his laptop at Enzo.
“It’s not impossible. The timeline matches with when Nico's operations were being infiltrated,” Enzo responded.
I leaned back in my chair as I thought back to when I’d hired Lana months ago. She always had an air of innocence about her. But there was also a defiance that seemed forced, especially when she saw Gigi.
Something doesn’t add up here.
“That can’t be right. She was hired months before Gigi came into the picture,” I stated.
“Actually, it makes perfect sense,” Uncle interjected with a knowing look. “He might have wanted someone keeping an eye on you all along, and Gigi was a bonus to his game.”
“The timing isn’t the part to worry about. The Puppet Master is manipulative and thrives on control. He could have used Lana’s vulnerabilities against you,” Enzo explained.
“You think he offered her something in exchange?” I asked.
“Yes. I also think he killed her when she didn’t fulfill whatever obligation he imposed on her,” Enzo replied flatly.
“Obligation?” Lo questioned.
“To weaken Nico, and to ultimately to seize his throne, his influence, his power over the city,” Enzo added. “When was the last time you saw her?” he asked, turning to me.
I had to dig deep into my memory. “The day I fired her,” I said, the words tasting bitter on my tongue.
If I had sensed she was in danger, maybe I could have saved her.
“I came across a file on Smiley’s phone,” Enzo said. “We managed to crack it open.”
Luca shut down his laptop, his expression shifting to one of concern as he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “What did you find?”
Enzo’s eyes darkened. “It was a telegram channel mirroring a dark web forum.”
Luca’s brow furrowed. “Why do I get the feeling this is about to get worse?”
“Because you’re not wrong,” Enzo replied, casting a quick glance at me as if bracing himself my reaction. “It’s a private chat room specifically for serial killers.”
“What the hell?” Matteo and Lo exclaimed in unison.
“What do you mean ‘specifically for serial killers’?” Uncle asked.
“Wait a second,” Luca interjected, shaking his head as if trying to piece together a grotesque puzzle. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“What is he saying?” Lo asked, looking between the two men.
Enzo nodded grimly. “They’re selling women to the most dangerous psychopaths in the country.”
An icy silence enveloped the room, leaving us all frozen in shock.
“To do what?” I asked
“To live out their fantasies.”
Jesus. This was so fucked.
“Is that why those girls were at the trailer?” I asked. “Were they up for auction?”
“We believe so,” Enzo replied, his tone somber.
I was about to ask another question when a knock echoed against the door. It swung open, and a small figure bounded into the room, his tiny feet hurriedly patting against the floor. His eyes twinkled with joy, and a big smile spread across his face, making it impossible not to laugh.
“Uncle Nico!” Aurelio cried, as he leaped into my arms.
“Hey there, little man. How are you?” I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close to my chest, letting his innocence momentarily lift the heaviness that I carried.
“Mamma’s home! Look!” he exclaimed, pointing toward the door as Matteo wheeled Mya into the room.
“Oh, hey.” Mya waved weakly. “Looks pretty intense in here.”
“Welcome back, Mya,” everyone exclaimed as they gave her hugs.
Enzo stood, and Aurelio hopped off my lap, running to his mother. “I’ll keep digging and call you if I find anything else. I hope you would do the same,” he said.
“Of course,” I agreed, for once without protest, watching as he walked out, the door closing behind him.
Demon sat comfortably on all fours between my legs. I sank deeper into the chair, the warm air from the vents offering little comfort against my bare chest.
After Enzo dropped the Lana bomb on us, I couldn’t think anymore.
It felt like we had chased so many goddamn leads, and not a single one brought me any closer to finding my girl.
My men spent hours and days scouring the city.
Every nightclub. Every trap house. Every fucking where but found nothing. No Gigi.
“You’re only a few moments away from liver disease if you keep drinking that shit like water,” Luca said, piercing the silence. I lifted my gaze, momentarily pulled away from the whiskey glass I was holding.
“Where the fuck were you? On a date?” I smirked, taking in his appearance. He stood in the doorway, hands tucked into the pockets of his dark slacks. He was wearing a crisp, half-buttoned white shirt, and polished black shoes. His hair was styled back with a subtle gel.
Luca's lips twitched in a brief smile. “I was at the club making sure things were running smoothly.” He stepped further into the room and took a seat across from me.
I nodded, a sense of gratitude washing over me. “Thanks, man.” I didn’t know how I’d survive this mess without my men as I hadn’t been able to give the time and attention to my business that it needed to keep running.
The ringing of my phone abruptly shattered my thoughts. Demon’s ears pricked up.
I fished my phone out of my pocket, swiped to answer, and tossed it onto the table, hitting the speaker button. “Yeah?” I grunted.
“Watch the screen,” the voice on the other end said in a robotic tone. A few seconds later, a text message appeared, displaying a video. My blood ran cold as I saw Gigi, battered and bruised, her eyes pleading through her tears. I lunged for the phone, my hands shaking with rage.
The sight on the screen was enough to make my blood boil. Those bastards had stripped her naked and beat her mercilessly, their cruelty knowing no bounds. I watched, horrified, as they burned her delicate skin with a lighter.
“You motherfucker!” I roared. “You’ll pay for this! I swear to fucking god, you'll pay for this.” I flipped over the table, sending it crashing to the ground with my drink, spilling it in a chaotic splash. Luca's face drained of color as he witnessed my raw anguish.
My dog erupted into a frenzied howl, his wild cries echoing in the room as if he’d completely lost his senses. I stumbled over to the window and placed one hand on the cool glass, my head lowered, the phone pressed against my ear.
“Such passion,” the Puppet Master mocked. “But passion won’t save her.” And with that, the line went silent.
My world tilted, the revelation hitting me like a bullet to the chest.
With a heavy heart, I sank to the floor, pulling my knees up and bowing my head between my legs while holding the phone on top of my head.
“Nico,” Luca gasped. But I couldn’t focus on his concern right now; my mind was a raging inferno, fueled by anger and grief.
I had to channel every ounce of that fury into finding my girl and bringing her back home, back to the safety I had failed to provide her with before.
But deep down, she had never been truly safe, had she?
Luca’s phone dinged.
“Alphonse’s here.”