Giovanni Bianchi orderedthe hit on my life.
That’s what Laz learned on his phone call earlier with Stefano Ricci. And when he called Giovanni, he didn’t deny it.
I rub a hand over my face, then pick up the glass of gin Noah made for me and take a healthy sip.
Noah’s already fixing a second one, along with a glass of scotch for himself. He’s usually a martini guy. But he clearly needs something stronger.
As did I.
Laz is the only one not drinking.
He’s seated calmly behind his desk, his fingers on his keyboard as he sends out commands via secure channels.
There’s already a small army surrounding the estate, but he’s requesting more men, just in case.
And he’s checking in on all of our business assets, ensuring that Giovanni hasn’t attempted to attack us anywhere else.
I try to help from my laptop, but my nerves are fucking fried.
Leaving Lark alone in her room didn’t sit right with me. She made a comment about understanding Laz’s need to meet with just the pack, suggesting she didn’t see herself as part of our unit yet.
We haven’t claimed her, and she hasn’t claimed us. So I suppose she’s not officially ours, but my heart and soul already belong to her.
She’s my omega.
Mycenter.
If she wants to be,I think, taking another sip of my drink before slamming the empty glass on the desk.
Noah is there a second later to swap it with another helping, but I ignore it and fire up my backup laptop instead.
Lark has my preferred laptop.
Which has me wondering what she might be doing with it right now.
But I refrain from hacking in to find out. She deserves her privacy, even if she’s contacting her brother right now for an update.
Fucking Giovanni.
Narrowing my gaze, I decide to go hunting. I want proof that he hired Bastian to take me out. And I want to see if there’s any indication of why he chose me.
Because I’m the one who found his sister?I wonder.Does he see me as a primary threat?
That would normally be a compliment. But right now it just fuels my need to know more.
I start pulling up programs and screens, logging in with my usual protocols before diving into tracer logs.
I want his phone history, proof that he’s even talked to Bastian. So that’s where I start, drawing up all the records I can find for his various phone numbers. If he’s smart, he used a burner. But there has to be a trace of something somewhere.
And I’m going to find it.
Data starts to populate, my eyes scanning, my sense of time slipping away as I pull everything into a database. Writing a fewscripts, I begin sorting through the logs in a way that allows me to search for specific terms. Numbers.Assassin codes.
I’m familiar with the latter because of Noah. There’s a whole dark web filled with bounties. He takes on special projects when he wants to hone one of his skills. Or if he despises whatever the mark did.
“I have standards,” he once said when explaining what types of assignments he favors. “If they’ve hurt women or children, they meet those standards.”
He has a particular hatred for men who prey on the innocent. It’s why he was pissed when he couldn’t join the Widows during their trip to the Henderson mansion last month. That place was full of marks that he longed to kill.
