I sent my men to dig. So far, they’ve come back empty handed.
No leads, or names.
Nothing.
This was the second attack on my girl, and the patience I don’t possess is wearing thin. I can feel it now, that restless edge, the familiar itch under my skin.
When I find the person who sent those men after Octavia…
Once might have been coincidence. Twice is no accident. Someone is targeting her.
And that is what frightens me, because nothing in this world ever used to, until her.
Now the thought of her in danger makes me want to start shooting left and right, panic crashes through me so hard I can’t tell if I’m on the verge of a heart attack, an aneurysm, or both at the same damn time.
Whoever is doing this wants to take her.
Take her away from me.
That will not happen.
I have already ordered my men to comb the black market, to look into anyone who might profit from her disappearance. The Bellantis have enemies, too many to count, and I hate that I don’t know which of them this might be.
I hate not knowing.
I hate not being in control.
This could also be personal.
My thoughts drift to her other life, and I can’t deny the surge of pride that follows. I have heard the whispers myself, rumours of someone targeting the men who traffic girls.
Deaththey call her.
Then I saw her with my own eyes, caught in the act, and it took me less than a minute to confirm what I already suspected.
It is her.
My beautiful girl.
A queen.
My fucking queen.
Even my damn father mentioned it once in passing, mocking it.
Turns out she’s real.
And she’s mine.
I text my man back with new instructions, to dig deeper, and focus on influential men, traffickers, predators. Anyonepowerful to retaliate. Because I would be a fool to leave this only to those who oppose Octavia taking over the Bellanti mafia.
I send the message just as she stirs.
Her lashes flutter. Her green eyes open slowly, unfocused and heavy with sleep. Her hair is a mess, her cheek warm on my skin.
She looks impossibly soft.
Utterly mine.
