Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Islam the door of the Escalade and stalk toward the warehouse entrance, rage still boiling under my skin. The industrial building stands isolated on the edge of Queens, its weathered exterior hiding what happens inside. Perfect for keeping problems contained.
The heavy metal door creaks as I shove it open, the sound echoing through the cavernous space.
Enzo and Alessio look up as I approach. Two men sit bound to chairs in the center of the room, faces already showing the consequences of their poor life choices. One sports a split lip, the other a swollen eye. Both wear black tactical gear under leather jackets—Byron's standard security uniform.
"What do we have?" My voice echoes against the bare walls.
Alessio steps forward, wiping blood from his knuckles with a handkerchief. "Found them following Lucrezia and your wife at the mall."
We already knew that Byron had men following Zoe. When I asked him about that, he told me that he won't risk his only child to be in danger. I fucking believed him. Because I would have done the same.
"She's not my wife," I snap, the words burning like acid.
Alessio's eyebrow lifts slightly, but he continues. "We spotted them in the food court, tracked them to the parking garage."
I circle the prisoners slowly, studying them. The older one—balding, muscle gone soft—keeps his head down. The younger one stares straight ahead, defiance etched across his bruised face.
"Where's Byron?" I ask, my voice deceptively calm.
Both men remain silent. Enzo delivers a swift backhand to the younger one, splitting his lip.
"Your boss," I lean down, putting my face inches from his. "Where the fuck is he?"
"We don't know," the older one finally mutters. "He doesn't share his schedule with us."
"Bullshit." I straighten up, unbuttoning my suit jacket. "You were following my sister. Why?"
The men exchange glances, and something cold slides down my spine.
"We had orders to watch the Easton girl," the younger one admits. "That's all."
"Zoe," I correct, removing my jacket and folding it carefully over a nearby chair. "Her name is Zoe."
"Not according to Mr. Easton," the older one mumbles.
I freeze, my hands halfway through rolling up my sleeves. "What did you say?"
The man swallows hard. "Nothing. I didn't—"
My fist connects with his jaw before he can finish, the impact traveling up my arm. Pain flares across my already split knuckles from earlier.
"What does he call her?" I demand, grabbing his shirt.
"Asset," he chokes out. "He calls her his asset."
Enzo and Alessio exchange glances behind me.
"And he trained her for what, exactly?" I ask, loosening my grip slightly.
The younger one laughs, a spray of blood spattering from his mouth. "You really don't know what you married, do you?"
I straighten up, turning to Alessio.
"We need to find Byron. Now." I run a hand through my hair, thinking. "Have Noah check all properties under Easton's name or his shell companies."
"Already on it," Enzo says, phone in hand. "Nothing at his main house or the Connecticut estate."
I pace the concrete floor, mind racing. "What about his warehouse properties?"
"That's the problem," Alessio interjects. "He's disappeared. Completely off-grid since yesterday morning."
"How the fuck is even possible?" I roar, slamming my fist against the warehouse wall. "A man like Byron doesn't just disappear. He's got connections, safe houses, contingency plans. He's somewhere."
Alessio moves closer, his voice lowered. "Damiano, we need to consider all our options."
"I'm listening," I growl, though my mind is already racing through scenarios, each one bloodier than the last.
"Zoe might be the key to drawing him out." Alessio says, his thumb tracing his bottom lip thoughtfully.
My head snaps up, fury coursing through me. "She's not a fucking bargaining chip."
"She's been playing you for months," Alessio counters, unflinching in the face of my rage. "Using her against Byron is exactly what we need right now."
"And do what? Threaten her? Torture her?" The words taste like poison. "She's Bianca's killer's daughter, but she's still—" I cut myself off, unable to finish the thought.
Alessio waits, watching me with those calculating eyes of his. "Still what, Damiano? Still the woman you fell for? The one who was planning to destroy everything we've built?"
I turn away, pacing the concrete floor. The bound men watch our exchange with wary eyes.
"She must know where he's hiding," Alessio continues. "Byron wouldn't leave her completely in the dark. She's his insurance policy."
"And what if she doesn't know?" I challenge, though doubt creeps in. "What if Byron kept her on a need-to-know basis? What then?"
Alessio shrugs. "Then we find another way. But we have to try. For Bianca."
That name hits me like a physical blow. Bianca. My pregnant fiancée. The woman whose murderer's daughter I've been fucking. The irony would be laughable if it wasn't so goddamn tragic.
"Fuck," I mutter, rubbing my face with my hands. The anger's still there, but something else creeps in—cold, calculating strategy. The part of me that's survived in this world for so long.
"Fine." I say.
"But no one touches her, but me."