Ricardo's POV
I have the information I need. Enzo is dead. The briefcase is gone. And Andre is nothing more than a bloody corpse at my feet. But none of it matters. At least not right now.
Because when I turn, I see Lana, standing there in the room, hugging herself like she's trying to hold her own body together. Her body trembles, and her eyes are wide and haunted.
I did this. I brought her here. Put her in this situation. The realization fills me with so much annoyance and fury. If anything had happened to her… I swallow hard. I don't know what I would do.
After I get my hands clean, I lead her outside, towards the car. She doesn't resist, but she's shaking. I can hear her uneven breathing, see the way her fingers twitch because she's traumatized. Just before we reach the car, I stop.
"Hey."
Lana flinches, she is startled by the sound of my voice. I exhale slowly, reaching up to adjust a strand of hair behind her ears. My fingers brush against her cheek, forcing her gently to look at me.
I can see that she is terrified. And then, without warning, she breaks down. Tears spill over and her breath hitches as she shakes her head. "I was so scared," she whispers. "I thought—" She chokes on the words, squeezing her eyes shut. "I thought he was going to rape me."
I tighten my jaw, with my fingers still resting against her face. No. No one will ever lay a finger on her like that. Not while I live.
My voice drop to a low and possessive tone. "Lana," I murmur. "No one will ever touch you against your will. Not while I'm breathing."
She goes still and her sobs reduce significantly. She nods weakly, with her fingers gripping onto the front of my shirt, seeking some kind of anchor.
I let her lean into me, let her cry it out against my shoulder. I hold her tight in my embrace. I let her fall apart, even if I don't know how to put her back together. But the moment was brief. I can't afford softness, not here, not now. Gently, I guide her into the car, pulling the door shut. I exhale, rubbing a hand down my face.
Then it hit me. The envelope. "Shit," I mutter under my breath.
The windows to the car are tinted so Lana winds it down and blinks at him, confused. "What happened?"
I straighten, running a hand through my hair before looking at her. "I forgot something inside. Stay here," I order. "And whatever you do, don't come out. We don't know these people."
Lana nods quickly. "Okay."
With that, I turn and head back inside. My mind is on one thing; getting the damn envelope and leaving. But the second I step through the doors, I run straight into someone I never expected to see.
Alma.
We both freeze. For a split second, neither of us speaks. The shock on her face mirrors my own.
I recover first. "…What are you doing here?" I ask with suspicion. "Your mom traffics girls from Mexico too?"
Alma looks like she's seen a ghost.
She hesitates as her eyes darts to the side before settling back on me. "Yeah," she says too quickly. "My mom likes her Latinas."
I don't believe her.
Something in her voice, in the way she shifts uncomfortably, feels off. But I don't have time to press. I need that envelope.
"Stay safe. My regards to your mother." I say, stepping past her.
Angelo's POV
The city is quiet at this hour, just how I like it. I leave the hotel and get into my car. My fingers tap against the wheel, as my mind runs over everything that's happened so far. Our money is missing, Enzo's dead, and someone's been following me for days.
I plan to change that tonight.
I drive for a while, driving through dark, empty streets, waiting to see if my shadow follows. He does. Good. After a few more miles, I slow the car and pull over near an abandoned warehouse. I kill the engine and step out, moving quickly into the dark with my gun already in my hand.
A minute later, the other car pulls up behind mine. The driver hesitates. Probably wondering why I stopped. Then his door opens. And a man steps out with his gun in hand. He cocks it.
Idiota.
He's making too much noise, giving away his position like an amateur. He doesn't even realize he's already dead. I move fast and silent. Before he can react, I come up behind him and slam the butt of my gun against his skull.
He crumples and I don't give him a chance to recover. Zip ties, duct tape, and a little creativity, he's in my trunk before he even knows what hit him.
By the time he wakes up, he's tied to a chair in a shitty motel room, with his head lolling forward. I sit across from him, watching as he groans, as his body shifts against the restraints.
"You awake?" I ask casually.
He blinks sluggishly, trying to regain focus. Then his eyes meet mine. "You," he rasps.
I grin. "Me."
He doesn't look scared. Not yet. But that's going to change. "Name?" I ask.
He doesn't speak. I nod slowly, pulling a knife from my pocket. "Tell me who sent you."
Still, he doesn't speak.
I sigh. "See, I don't have time for this. So let's make it simple." I grab his hand, spreading his fingers against the armrest. "Either you talk, or I cut off your fingers one by one." I press the knife to his index finger. "And then, I make you eat them."
His face hardens, but I see fear in his eyes. "You're bluffing."
I chuckle briefly, then I slice without warning. He groans in pain as blood splatters across the floor and his severed finger drops onto his lap. He jerks whilst breathing hard.
"Don't make me make you eat it," I say, flicking the bloody blade. "Now, start talking."
He grits his teeth. He's holding back because he's more afraid of someone else. I shake my head. "Alright." I grab his next finger.
"No—wait! Inzaghi!" he blurts out. "Inzaghi hired me!"
I stop. "Keep going."
He swallows hard as sweat drips down his forehead. "He.. he hired me to follow you, your brother and anyone you did business with at the time. He made me kill your loan shark. It shouldn't have gone down the way it did.."
I arch a brow. "Why?"
"He caught me. Enzo knew who I was. He was going to report me to Ricardo, so I… I had to kill him. It was Inzaghi's orders. His voice shakes as he speaks. "After killing him, I dumped him in a dumpster."
"And the money?"
The man hesitates. I press the blade against his skin again, not cutting, just a warning.
"I only have half. Enzo misused the rest."
My jaw tightens. That useless bastard.
He looks at me with desperation in his eyes. "Kill me," he pleads. "Inzaghi won't spare me. He wants answers, he knows your brother betrayed him, he hired me to find proof. And if I don't have answers, I'm a dead man."
I lean back, considering him. Then I smirk. "Kill you? No. I have a better idea."
His face goes pale. "What?"
I tilt my head. "You kill our loan shark, you become his replacement."
His eyes widen in horror. "I—I don't know how to do that!"
I chuckle. "You'll learn." I lean in. "Because if you don't, I'll cut off more than just your fingers. You work for us now. And you're going to multiply that money by five."
He stares at me, shaking his head. "You're insane."
I grin. "Insane? Insane would've been if my brother was here instead, not me. He would've given you straight to Inzaghi and you'll watch everything you've ever loved and owned burn to the ground. You should be thanking me for my kindness."
Before he can respond, my phone rings. It was Antonella. I step away, answering with a smirk. "Antonella. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Where is your brother?" There aren't any pleasantries, she's pissed. And of course it has to do with my brother.
I chuckle. "And a good evening to you too."
"I'm mad Angelo," she snaps. "Ricardo doesn't come home, he fucks other puttana but not his own wife. I'm done!"
I exhale. She's not wrong. Ricardo treats her like a ghost, and she deserves better. I don't like the way he handles his relationship, but it's not my place to interfere.
Still, I say, "He's in Mexico."
"Mexico? That bastard never even told me?" She scoffs.
I can hear the pain in her voice. "What do you wanna do about it?"
Her answer is immediate."Let's take a trip to Mexico. I'm going to see that bastard face to face and give him a piece of my mind."
I chuckle. This is going to be interesting.
"Yes, ma'am."