"Gianna..." Marco's voice cuts through the line, but I don't let him talk. I'm beyond pissed. "I don't need you. I don't need or want your help, Vito. I can handle this on my own."
I hang up the call and sit on my knees, trying to push back the tears brimming in my eyes. I bite my lip, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I don't need him. I don't need him," I whisper to myself like I'm trying to convince myself it's true.
CHAPTER 19
Finn
I can hearAilish bark orders below on the warehouse floor. Good, that's exactly where she needs to pour her energy, not wasting breath on nonsense talking about Gianna. I check my wrist for the time, and it's 10:00 P.M. Damn. I didn't expect to spend this much time here. The air feels heavier, maybe the tension from the screw-up, or maybe it's just fatigue setting in. Either way, things need to be fixed. I'm not leaving until everything is accounted for.
I pick up my phone from the cluttered table, checking to see if Gianna has said anything.
No message or calls from her. Is she still asleep? She looked tired earlier, physically and mentally. That interrogation wasn't easy for her. Did something happen? I told her not to leave, but I also know she hardly listens. I leave her a message just in case.
Are you okay? Still asleep?
I stare at the screen for a second longer before dropping the phone back on the table with a sigh, focusing on the work before me.
The warehouse slowly starts to become quiet. One by one, the trucks pull out, and the rumble of tires grinding over gravel fills the air. It's quieter now, still not peaceful but manageable. There can't be any errors this time. Instead of passing through our usual route, Ailish and the guys set out on another, and the pickup location is going to be different this time.
My phone dings. I snatch it quickly, tension bleeding from my shoulders when I see her name.
I'm awake and doing okay. Take your time.
Relief crashes over me harder than I expected. Just seeing her text... it grounds me. I know the people in the estate are probably buzzing with what happened today. Word travels fast around here, and not everyone is thrilled with her presence. She's better off staying put for now, where I know she's safe. It's not safe for her to roam around.
I respond to her text.
Good, I'll have Bernard bring you dinner and a change of clothes. Don't go anywhere.
I stare at the last sentence for a moment, then hit send. A precaution, sure, but also a quiet plea.
The echo of footsteps clanking down the iron stairs draws my attention, and I brace myself. Don't tell me it's Ailish again. I thought she left with the trucks. The last thing I need is her attitude. But it's not her.
"Any luck with sorting out the inventories?" Declan's voice slices through the silent night. I raise my head immediately, my muscles tensing as he steps into view, standing at the door like a shadow. I haven't seen him since the torture session. I tried to reach out to him, but he didn't pick up.
"Where have you been?" I ask. Not knowing what he was up to puts me on edge. He's my brother, but I also know how brutal he can get when things don't go his way.
"Out. Sorting out this mess," he says, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt as he moves closer.
He takes the seat opposite me, and I watch him closely. There's tension behind his calm, a subtle weight in the way he leans forward, the way his jaw ticks ever so slightly.
"What did you do?" I ask, eyeing him cautiously.
"Sorting shit out through paperwork and inventory logs is not the same as handling business in real life," he says, voice clipped. "I had to travel to Boston and ease the nerves of our buyers before they backed out completely." I let out a small breath, running a hand across my jaw.
I'm relieved he did damage control himself. If those buyers bailed, we'd be looking at more than just a lost shipment; we'd be risking everything we've spent years building.
"Was it bad?" I ask.
Declan shrugs. "Could have been worse. They were already pissed we couldn't guarantee delivery, but I managed to keep them at the table for now."
"You could have told me what you were trying to do," I say, dropping my eyes to the papers.
"So you could tell the Rosso girl," he says with a vile tone, and I meet his gaze.
"Ailish went out with the new shipment. They should arrive soon," I say, looking away from him. "There won't be any problems this time."
"This is no longer about the shipment, Finn." His voice is cold and sickening. "The girl has to go."
