The elevator dings, and a construction worker walks in.
“Good day, Boss,” he bows curtly before going about his work.
“Mr. Grimaldi is also working on obtaining the necessary permits,” Matteo quickly switches to legal as we approach the elevator. “He still maintains his stance on seeing more positive news of you and your wife.”
My fingers curl with irritation as I dig my hands into my pockets. That old man. Insisting on letting the narrative between me and Bella drive the contract.
“The deal is driven by the narrative he sees about you and your wife,” Mateo continues as if he just read my mind.
He presses the button, and we enter the elevator, descending from the top floor.
“For every positive piece of news, he takes a step closer to signing the contract, like securing permits, and making the necessary moves.”
“Noted. Check important functions we can attend and clear my schedule for the day.”
“Yes,Capo.”
The ride becomes quiet, and soon I find myself reeling in my thoughts of a certain ginger. Since I sent the video recording, she’s been quiet—almost nonexistent. It’s not hard to know why.
A devilish smirk tilts my lips. She’s keeping her distance—like she finally realized that I’ll follow through with every fucking threat I make. That I’ll burn the fucking world into chaos to prove a point.
“Capo,” Matteo’s surprised voice pulls me out of my thoughts, brows knitting tight at his lit-up screen. “The tech guys just caught a signal. It’s coming straight from the downtown warehouse.”
My vein pulses in my forehead. The fucking mole.
“Who?” My jaw tenses, the monster within me eager to unleash hell on the next name he mentions.
“It’s a burner phone,Capo. Signals are bouncing through—”
Fuck! “Send all the fucking men there now!”
Almost immediately, the elevator opens, and I spring out, taking larger, raging strides until I reach outside. I move to the driver’s seat, but Matteo moves faster, jumping in and kicking the engine to life.
Barreling into the passenger seat is a goddamn test of my patience. I want to take control of the wheel, but I’m too consumed by rage.
Gritting my teeth, I tap my feet relentlessly against the car’s floor carpet as Matteo zooms out of the site and onto the road.
Cars blur past my vision, every sight I catch tunneling into a red, blazing anger. My fingers itch, my rage gnaws, breath spilling out in shorter and faster pants. I swear to fucking God when I lay my hands on that fucker.
A ragged grunt leaves my lips as the car swerves at a sharp bend, screeching and rising in a way that almost causes a collision with a pole.
“Fuck!” Matteo yells, one eye on the road and the other on his screen. His face blanches, and then he says the one thing that plunges my emotions into a spiral.
“The warehouse is on fire.”
My fist crashes down on the dashboard. Fuck!
The rest of the drive passes by in a blur. When we reach the warehouse, black smoke fogs the sky in a way that shrouds the haze of anger in my eyes.
The flames rise like enemies laughing in my face, taunting and reminding me of the fucking loose end I’m unable to tie. Men swarm uselessly, their shouts drowning the inferno as firefighters struggle against the fire.
The stench of smoke and chemicals invades my nose as I head toward where the men are gathered.
“The fucking signal came from here,” Matteo grits out, trying to keep pace, but all I see is my next move.
I barely reach the swarm of men when I grab the nearest guard by the collar and shove him to the ground.
“Which one of you bastards is the rat?”
