Vendetta

55. Chapter 55

Nico

The hardest thing I’d ever had to do was leave Rosa there, on the side of the road, well-fucked and wearing my omega’s borrowed clothes.

The drive to my father’s was silent. The others were weighed down by her absence as much as I was.

I had no plan. No idea what we were walking into, and no idea how to handle it.

An hour into the drive, I felt a tug on the bond, but it was gone faster than I could blink and fell silent again.

I rubbed my temple where the beginning of a headache was growing.

It must have been my wishful thinking, hoping that she needed us, that she would call us back to her.

But she didn’t. The bond lay quiet in my chest, stretched tight and unrelenting.

It was uncomfortable being away from her with our connection half-forged and tattered, but it had to be done.

There was nothing I wouldn’t endure to keep her safe.

My chest was tight with unease and the weight of missing her. I deserved it. I’d forced my decision on her, and now she was making me wait. She wanted proof that I was worthy of her, and I was happy to prove myself one-hundred times, one-thousand, as many times as she needed me to.

The first step to getting her back in my arms was dealing with my father. Marcel had been his right hand for years, but I’d been his left. What happened when your left hand cut off your right though? I was about to find out.

The tall, spear-tipped iron gates rose out of the rainforest, looking like the gates of hell themselves.

Sharp, jagged, and imposing, they scared away any but the bravest solicitor, and the roaming guards did the rest. Unlike Rosa’s island, there was no guardhouse, only a high-tech security system that Oliver had installed a few years ago.

The camera recognized his car, and our faces, and let us in.

The guards were elsewhere, roaming the property.

We were expected, so the lack of reception was no surprise.

Oliver pulled around the drive, parking his Audi nose out, probably preparing for the possibility that we might have to make a hasty exit. Unfortunately, I was of a mind to agree with his precaution. My father was unpredictable at the best of times, and today was not the best of times.

We piled out of the car into the oppressive heat that choked the front courtyard. Palm fronds hung limp in the still air, and nothing stirred. No one rushed out to stop us. That was a good start, at least.

“Are you ready?” I asked my pack, triple-checking each of the many weapons stashed on my person.

Oliver and Cruz were doing the same, and when they both silently nodded, we moved up the steps to the front door, heads on a swivel.

The quiet had me on edge.

I pushed through the door and stepped into the updated Italian-style villa.

My father said it reminded him of home. It was over the top, but it served its purpose to represent the image he wanted to convey.

Walking across the extravagant marble mosaic floors almost felt like a crime as we made our way deeper into the house.

Colossal arches and columns framed the windows and doors, and decorative frescoes adorned every wall.

Classical music drifted from the dining room, and I followed it through the house, double-checking my gun one more time.

Why did this feel like a trap?

I couldn’t afford to show any weakness in front of my father, so despite my paranoia I donned a cocky grin and made my way in.

“Ah, there you are, my son. Come in. Have a seat.” My father motioned us in with a smile that was a little too sharp around the edges.

“I was just having a late lunch. Have you boys eaten? I can get Beatrice to whip you up something.” There was a glint in his eye that spoke of some sinister plot he was hatching, which set me on edge even more than I already was.

“No, we aren’t hungry,” I replied. There was too much anxiety churning in my gut to eat anything, and my head was starting to throb. My pack may not agree, but if we needed to move fast, food would only get in the way.

Francisco motioned with his fork. “Suit yourself. Have a seat. There are things we should discuss.”

He was right, there were. I pulled out the ornately carved chair to my father’s left, my usual seat. Cruz sat to my left, and Oliver took the last chair on this side of the table. The screech of my father’s utensils as he cut off another piece of bloody steak fractured the fragile silence.

“It’s good you came. Where’s Marcel? I haven’t been able to get a hold of him all day.” Francisco asked before dropping the piece of meat into his mouth and chewing.

“I think you probably already know that.” I shifted in my chair, ready for anything.

“I do, but I was curious what bullshit you’d try to feed me before I had to torture the truth out of you. No matter, I already have a solution for that. Let’s try another. Where’s the girl?” he asked with a smile, cutting off another piece of dripping meat.

“We didn’t bring her,” I replied.

He slammed his fist on the table. “I know you didn’t!” He took a moment to compose himself. “But why, is the better question? Why is Marcel’s omega on life support in the hospital and the Reyes girl not with you, when I explicitly told you to bring her to me?” he spat the last few words.

I shot a glance at my packmates. There were only so many ways this could go, and at least a few of them ended with all of us dead. I turned back to my father. “She’s our scent-match.” Francisco would have no pity regarding scent-matches, but there was no point in keeping the information from him.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he chewed.

The gears in his head were nearly visible, turning that piece of information over.

He swallowed down the food he was chewing and said, “That doesn’t answer my question.

We both know scent-matches are nothing more than a liability.

Omegas are for producing heirs, and that is all. Why is she not here?”

I’d heard that before. Hell, I’d repeated the bit about the scent-matches, but the anger filtering through the words about omegas was new. So much bitterness even when he’d just lost his wife.

Oliver’s hands went up. “Don’t look at me.I ain’t birthing shit.”

The scowl that my father turned on Oliver would kill a lesser man, but Oliver just grinned back at him.

“As I was saying, producing heirs, if even that, and better to be seen and not heard. Scent-match or not, she will be brought here. If you need an omega, I’ll have Lorenzo bring a spare along with him.”

What in the fuck did he know about Lorenzo? Why would I need another omega?

I didn’t like where this was going, and my guts tied in a knot. “Lorenzo? Lorenzo who? There are a few.” I asked, doing my best to maintain a blasé facade while my heart was having a fit behind my ribs, like it was trying to break free from its bony prison.

There was no chance my father was talking about the same Lorenzo that was supposed to marry Rosa. He didn’t even know the man, as far as I knew. My father had been secretive of late, but there was no way.

“Oh, don’t play stupid. I raised you better than that.

” Francisco put his fork down and dabbed his greasy lips with a napkin.

“Lorenzo Vasco. You murdered Marcel and his pack for whatever reason. Which clears the way for Lorenzo to take his place as my right-hand. Good thing for you, though, because I was strongly considering letting the Vasco pack take your place. For now, you can stay. But stop fucking up.” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and tapped out a text before tucking it away.

“Lorenzo has become invaluable of late. He’s infiltrated the Reyes compound and has been passing intel to me for quite some time now, no one the wiser. ”

There wasn’t even time to process what he had just said because my head began to pound, like a migraine coming on fast, but it didn’t feel like any normal headache.

I grit my teeth as the pain rolled over me.

Fuck. Rosa. Something was wrong with her.

I stood from the table, casting Oliver a look.

Unfortunately the bond didn’t come with telepathy, but he could tell that something was up from the look on my face.

“Excuse me a moment.” I motioned for Oliver to follow me, regretting leaving Cruz there alone, but he could handle himself.

I strode out the door, turning down the hall leading deeper into the house toward where our rooms were whenever we needed to stay.

Oliver’s steps followed behind me. Halfway to the guest wing, in an open courtyard, I stopped.

Sight lines were clear in every direction, no one should be able to overhear our conversation.

“Something’s wrong. I can’t trust the bond in this one-sided state, but… there’s a feeling. And with all this shit about Lorenzo.” I squeezed the bridge of my nose, trying to ease the pounding. “Do you still have…”

Before I had even finished my thought, Oliver held up his phone with a live feed of the Reyes estate.

Everything was turned on its head. Gone was the tasteful classic furniture, replaced with random bullshit.

Garbage was thrown everywhere. Scantily clad women were running through the halls.

I swiped the screen, not sure what I was looking for. A glimpse of Rosa, maybe.

A crushing pain exploded in my chest, knocking the air from my lungs, and I toppled to my knees with a groan. Something that resembled the word fuck wheezed from my lips. “Oliver, figure it out.”

I was no use to anyone like this. The best I could do was try to breathe while Oliver frantically swiped through the camera feeds until he stopped cold, all the color draining from his face.

“Oh shit,” he mumbled and swiped a couple more times.

“What, Oliver? What is oh shit?” I managed to groan between labored breaths, my need to know overriding the pain as it engulfed me again.

“Lorenzo’s pack has control of the island. Rafael is in the cellar… dungeon… the dungeon in the cellar. And so is Rosa. They have her strapped to a table. Lorenzo is doing something to her.”

Pain slammed into me again, and I clenched my teeth, slumping to the ground, croaking, “I noticed.”

“Lorenzo got a text. He’s leaving.”

I rolled onto my hands and knees, spitting out a wad of blood and phlegm. “What can we do from here?”

“Watch?” Oliver chuckled morosely.

I shook my head and dragged myself to my feet. “Give me your phone.” She was over an hour away, but I still had to see this for myself.

He did, but his hand slipped into my pocket, fishing out my phone. He unlocked it and opened the camera feed on it, too.

“Brat.” I took my phone from him and handed his back.

Too fucking clever for his own good. With the phone juggling done, I flipped from room to room.

Looking, searching. There was an omega in a dog cage in Rafael’s redecorated bedroom, and a large pack of alphas roaming the halls.

Lorenzo was arguing with a smaller, dark-haired alpha in the kitchen near the cellar door.

I wasn’t interested in that, though. Even in my haste, I found her.

Rosa was naked, bruised, and bloody, half-strapped to a table.

All I could do was watch helplessly as she struggled with her bonds.

One hand tugged free, then she unbuckled the other.

I held my breath, watching the cellar door.

If they caught her trying to escape, this would turn ugly fast. She unfastened the straps securing her ankles to the table.

I breathed out, tension leaking from my chest. “Good girl,” I whispered into the silent courtyard.

When she slid off the table, her wince of pain was obvious, and it echoed through the bond, but when she picked up the gun and a can from the table, I felt her hope and adrenaline rise.

“Did you see that?” Oliver asked in hushed tones.

I nodded but couldn’t tear my eyes away. She positioned herself in the shadows of the door with the handgun primed.

“Nico!” someone called my name from down the corridor, and my head whipped up.

I stuffed my phone into my pocket, seeing one of my father’s many guards approaching from the way we’d come. What was his name…? Roberto? I couldn’t remember.

“What?” I hid the irritation under an air of boredom.

“Francisco asked me to come get you.”

We hadn’t been gone that long. My father must be on edge.

“Yeah, we were just on our way back,” I lied.

Just as I turned to follow, a shooting pain like an ice pick stabbing through my skull staggered me. I slowed, falling into stride with Oliver. Under my breath, I asked. “What the fuck was that?”

He flashed me his screen showing a dead alpha on the floor at Rosa’s feet, and Lorenzo flailing around in front of her. She still had the gun, and I hoped that was enough to save her. “Good.”

The pain I could tolerate. But losing her was not an option.

We filed back into the dining room where my father was finishing the last of the filet on his plate.

“Glad you decided to rejoin us. Cruz is an incredible conversationalist. Such a wide vocabulary, it’s astounding,” he drawled sarcastically.

“Really, he picked the wrong line of work. He could’ve made a killing as a public speaker.

But I prefer my dinner conversation a bit more lively.

” He chuckled to himself, dabbing his lips, before setting his napkin down.

Knowing Cruz, he hadn’t said a single word. He would happily sit, only speaking when he had someone worth talking to. My father was never that.

“You called us back?” I asked, not bothering to address his sarcastic comment about my packmate.

“Yes, that. I wanted to let you know that I have someone bringing your girlfriend here, since you refused to do it. Make yourself comfortable, but don’t think about leaving. You can’t.” He pushed his chair back and stood.

Rage simmered in my veins. While we’d been talking, armed guards had taken up posts by the doors. Fucking fabulous. We could shoot our way out, but with heavily armed, well-equipped guards, it wouldn’t be pretty.

At the moment, there was no reason to try to leave until we figured out what was happening with Rosa. So I’d agree for now.

“We’ll be in our rooms,” I said, and my pack followed me out with the additional guards straggling in our wake.