Chapter 26 Bruno
brUNO
The alcohol here isn’t strong enough. Another shot of Vodka and the intense pressure in my chest that’s existed ever since I found that woman in the container doesn’t shift. It’s been there for a week, restricting my breathing and making sleep impossible.
How can I sleep?
How can I when I’ve been so fucking wrong about everything?
A week ago when I found that woman inside the container, I thought there’d been some kind of mix-up.
Maybe she was high and had wandered inside by accident.
An easy mistake I told myself as I guided her out.
Until I recognized her tattoo and realized I’d saved her before.
Back at that wreck of a house. She’d clung to me all the way to the hospital where she’d then vanished, along with everyone else Saoirse and I rescued.
So I’d reported it.
And who turned up? My father.
Because who else would it be?
“Another?” Hazel stands across from me with the bottle of Vodka in her hand.
“Yeah.” I slide my glass toward her.
“Rough night?”
“No,” I say, picking up the glass. “But it’s about to be.”
“You need anything?”
Our eyes meet.
What if I told her everything? What if I spilled my heart to her and told her that one week ago, my father sat me down in his office and told me he was one-third of a secret organization spearheading the shipping of humans as stock around the world?
That a member of the Chinese Triad was the second head and the third remains a mystery?
What if I told her that he spoke to me as casually as we are talking now, and told me that the Russians left a gap in the market everyone else was too scared to fill, so he did?
I could tell her that he blamed Rocky and Matteo on why he had to make such a drastic decision because Matteo is old and closed down the family for a few years after Noah nearly started a war to end all wars with the Irish by killing Brenden Gifford, or that he blames Rocky because Rocky is young, reckless and marrying a cop of all people.
They’re a shameful stain on the family and in his eyes, it’s his duty to stop them falling into obscurity which he will do, willingly.
He just deserves some extra money on top of it.
My stomach churns the same way it did when my father told me that the demand was so overwhelming that they had to swipe more drugs than they could afford in order to keep the product docile.
And the weapons were either payment to the Triad for their legwork, or to cover the bodies of the men and women shipped overseas to become slaves or much worse.
I could tell Hazel every detail, right down to the exact number of women currently being held at several Italian facilities waiting to be sold.
I could tell her that my discovery of the blonde woman in the container got her killed since she was considered a liability, and that the only reason I’ve sat on this information for a week is because my father leaned across the table and looked me dead in the eye while threatening to kill Mary.
Or worse, sell her to the worst dictator he knows.
In an instant, my father was gone and replaced by this shell wearing the same face but with nothing inside him.
Only cold cruelty. I thought he was bluffing about Mary, after all he dotes on her like she’s his only child.
It turns out it’s just an act and he’s sent her away on holiday but refuses to tell me where.
All part of his plan to keep me in line while claiming he’s welcoming me into the fold and hoping I’ll take over from him one day. He claims to trust me but we both know he doesn’t, not really.
“Bruno?” Hazel taps her red nails against the bar. “What’s up, love?”
If I told her everything, would she get the information to Saoirse or Cormac? Would she be able to do anything before my father killed her?
“Nothing,” I say eventually. “Sorry. I have a lot on my mind.”
“Ah, I suppose you do,” she replies. “With the Irish twins missing and war on the streets, I imagine you’ve got a lot to worry about. You were close with her, weren’t you?”
The Vodka sours in my mouth as I look up. “What?”
“Saoirse, you were her friend weren’t you? Or am I remembering wrong?”
“No, sorry. What do you mean she’s missing?”
“The twins are.” Hazel sets the bottle down. “Little over a week ago, they both vanished. It’s not public knowledge but I thought you knew given how close you two seemed.”
Saoirse is missing? And Cian?
This can’t be right. “Are you sure?” My words slip out more forcefully than I intend. “How do you know they’re not just away somewhere?”
Hazel’s eyes narrow. “Maybe I’m mistaken,” she replies tightly. “Sorry.”
She closes up immediately, which means she thought the Irish told me Saoirse was missing because we’re friends. Her silence is as much of an answer as an outright confirmation. But Cian too? What would cause them both to vanish?
Fuck. I have too many thoughts and not enough space. The missing twins, my sister shipped off God knows where, my father acting like I’m his next protege, and an entire underground network of human trafficking that I walked right into because I refused to see my father for the monster he really is.
Fucking hell.
Kill me now.
“He with you?” Hazel drags me out of my thoughts once again and points toward the newly arrived man standing at the door. One of my father’s guards.
“Unfortunately,” I mutter as I slide from my stool. “Thanks for the drink, Hazel.”
“Any time. Take care of yourself, Bruno.”
She wouldn’t say that if she knew where I was about to go.
“Don’t look so glum.” Domenico walks ahead of me, leading the way into the warehouse. “You kept telling me you wanted to be involved more. It doesn’t get more involved than this.”
It really doesn’t. In a bid to make my hands as dirty as his, my father has me helping him run an auction tonight.
It sickens me to see some familiar faces here from both Italian, Irish and Russian backgrounds but not one single person seems to care how fucked up this is.
I keep telling myself that I’m biding my time and gathering evidence against my father to take him down but with such a threat looming over my sister, I’m powerless to do anything but help.
“I’m not glum,” I say, weaving past a crowd of people who are dressed as if they’re attending a charity gala, not a slave auction. “I just didn’t sleep well and I drank before I came here, so I’m just feeling a little off.”
“Well suck it up.” Domenico stops in the middle of the floor and turns to face me. “Tonight we’re getting rid of stock. Everything that crossed the stage tonight will be going overseas and then we will focus on more internal sales until next month.”
“Why?”
“With the current… disagreements with the Irish, our access to the airport has been troublesome. But I have a plan in mind to fix that.”
“A plan?”
“Yes.” Domenico adjusts his tie and sighs. “But that’s not important right now. I want you to make sure the bids are high and the money goes where it needs to, understand?”
“Yes sir.” What else can I say? I contemplate the effects of grabbing the nearest champagne glass and cutting his throat with it, but killing him won’t put an end to this. Not with the Triad’s and the third, mysterious leader involved in all of this. Until I have all the details, I can’t act.
So I smile and do as he expects while trying to formulate a plan in the back of my mind.
Getting in contact with Mary is my priority.
Once she’s safe, my father has nothing else to hold over me and I can turn into a tactical nuke to take him down.
I don’t give a shit about collateral or the family name anymore.
No amount of money is worth tarnishing us with this kind of work.
In fact, I’d instead shed my name entirely and burn this entire place to the ground.
My father tends to his phone for a moment, then tucks it into the pocket of his jacket and walks off. If I could just get his phone then I would be able to get in touch with Mary. All my calls to her go unanswered so I suspect he’s changed her number.
That becomes my plan. Play along until I can get his phone and then it’ll be a race against time to get to Mary, save her and get in touch with Rocky.
It’s a good plan.
A wise plan.
A plan that details halfway through the night as woman after poor woman is dragged up onto stage and drowned in bright lights, then sold to whoever lifts their card the highest.
It’s sickening. The guests around me treat it like a party, eating fine food and drinking expensive champagne as if this really is some kind of charity auction.
Until Saoirse appears.
My stomach falls out of my ass and the tray in my hands clatters to the ground as she’s dragged onto stage and held under the lights like some kind of broken mannequin.
Saoirse.
What the fuck?
Anger swells inside me like an explosion, and I quickly scan the crowds, but my father is nowhere to be seen. Does he know she’s here? Of course he does. No wonder he emphasized that everyone here would be shipped overseas. He’s about to rid himself of one of the people capable of taking him down.
I can’t let that happen.
As soon as the bidding starts, I’m involved. I have no plan beyond making sure no one else gets their hands on her and the money steadily climbs. Soon, Domenico appears at my side with an easy smile.
“Well, I’m surprised to see you so eager to buy someone.”
He’s taunting me, subtly, so I lean into it and shoot him a smirk. “Are you kidding? The shit she put me through? It’s like perfect revenge presented on a platter for me.”
My father’s brow twitches upward. “Really?”
“Of course,” I say, raising my hand as the bidding reaches millions. “I’m gonna make that bitches life a living hell. That’ll teach her to manipulate me.”
My father almost looks proud while nausea churns in my gut.
I have to win. If anyone else takes her, I’ll never see her ever again.
Saoirse will be mine.
“Can you really afford her?” Domenico asks as the amount reaches eye-watering amounts.”
“There’s no price on revenge,” I say, throwing my hand up once more.
“Sold!” bellows the auctioneer. “For eighty million dollars to number seventeen! Come, sir. Collect your prize!”