Chapter 10
Ten
Dante
I’m drowning, unable to come up for air, knowing my second, Moreno, is at death’s door. I want to be at his side, assure Paige that the doctors are doing everything in their power to save him, but my place is as leader.
Commanding my men.
The problem is, I still don’t know who I can trust.
I interrogated Matteo, who showed loyalty only to me, but that doesn’t prove he isn’t also loyal to the DeLuca family.
I could break knuckles, make a man bleed, but then he’d only tell me what I want to hear. Strapping him down and running a current of electricity through a man makes one talk, but all I get is babbling.
Matteo only has proven himself to work for me.
He didn’t so much as sweat at my interrogation. Like he either knew how to beat it or had nothing to fear. The problem is, which is the correct answer?
My methods are sound.
I’ve terrorized grown men, but Matteo, he is my interrogator. He knows my playbook, which makes my methods problematic. He’s not scared because he knows what he’s capable of enduring.
And he’s hiding something.
I can feel it like an itch under my skin that won’t go away, but he swears he hasn’t spoken to the DeLucas and had no idea of Nico’s involvement.
There’s not so much as a drop of sweat beading his forehead.
He’s calm.
Too calm, if you ask me.
Does he show no fear because he’s loyal, or because he doesn’t fear me?
I can’t tell.
I’ve either grown weak or everything that’s happened is clouding my judgment. And the last thing I need is for my men to recognize weakness for what it is and threaten my throne or my family.
Lifting the barrel of the gun, I see no other choice and pull the trigger.
He’s hiding something, and that’s enough of a guilty verdict for me today.
The men I know I can trust are limited to one hand: Moreno, who is fighting for his life, Rhys, who is guarding Nova, Luca, and Ashton.
Liam and Sophia may soon be added to that list, but it’s far too short when I have dozens of men on my payroll.
Cleaning house is in order.
I do trust Halsey enough to give him a security detail on Paige and keep an eye and update me on Moreno’s condition. But he has to stay with the family; I can’t let him leave.
“Sir.” Bruno approaches me, albeit reluctantly. We’ve already had our little interrogation. He confessed that he should have known what Nico was up to, always texting on his phone, hidden in the corners in the dark on strange phone calls.
He hadn’t wanted to see it for what it was.
That makes two of us.
I keep a watchful eye with Bruno, but he doesn’t strike me as lying or hiding the truth.
Perhaps killing Matteo may not have been entirely in vain.
“Yes, Bruno.” I give him my full attention as he comes barreling into my office.
“The McKennas are here to speak with you.”
“Who?” My gaze tightens as I recognize the name, but I’m not sure why they’d be showing up at my front door.
“Jack and Catrina. They’re worried because they haven’t heard from their daughter.”
“For fuck’s sake,” I grumble and toss my head back. “Bring them in.”
Catrina rushes into my office, worry mounting on her face. Jack just looks like he’s shitting bricks with his stoic expression.
“Where the hell is my daughter?” Catrina’s eyes are wide, her breath stolen from her lungs and I haven’t even told her the truth.
I can’t tell her all of it.
I’m not even sure I should tell her some of it.
“She’s not here,” I say but force a smile. “If you’d like to see Zeke, he’s in the playroom.” At least he’s oblivious to the turmoil happening under my roof.
Lucky bastard.
“I called my daughter and some strange man answered the phone, yelled at me, and then told me to go fuck myself!” Her eyes tear and she covers her mouth with her hand. “I didn’t want to believe it was your son—and then I called him, definitely not the same voice…” Her words trail off.
Jack clears his throat, getting right to the point. “Who has our daughter?”
Catrina wipes away the stray tear. “I heard Harper pleading in the background—something is terribly wrong.”
I bite down on my tongue.
“Say something!” Catrina shouts at me, and I swallow the lump in my throat.
“Your daughter has been kidnapped.”
Catrina gasps. “What?” Her eyes are wide as she glances at her husband and clutches his arm, clinging to him. “What do you mean, kidnapped?”
“She was taken against her will. My cousin, Moreno, was shot in the head—I can’t get into the specifics.”
“Have you contacted the police? The F.B.I.?” Jack asks, stepping closer. “If our daughter is missing, why isn’t it on every news report? Why aren’t you trying to bring her home?”