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“You can try the old warehouse off the M40. That’s where his phone was last. There’s a car waiting for you outside. We brought you one just in case.”

“You have an answer for everything, don’t you?” I deadpan.

“I’m not head of the Italian mafia for nothing, Xander.”

I hang up and head for the car.

I feel like my body is just moving on autopilot.

I have one mission in mind.

Pulling up to an old warehouse off the motorway, it doesn’t look like I’ll have any luck here. There’s no sign of life.

My anger is growing impatient. I’m trying to focus on the task at hand, but I keep replaying every moment I’ve wronged Camila.

It's regret that will haunt me in the afterlife. Which doesn’t seem so far away now.

My phone buzzes as I pull up to the old warehouse. I turn off the car and pull it out. It’s Jacques again.

Sliding the SMG out of the passenger seat, I get out of the car and beeline towards the entrance.

“Where are you, motherfucker?” I call out into the seemingly empty warehouse when I enter. Damp fills my nose, and I can’t see a thing.

A bullet grazes my face from the right, causing a sting.

I laugh through my teeth and open fire in the same direction. A grunt follows.

Gunshots break out all around me, illuminating the decrepit warehouse. They all miss their shot. I dive behind a wheelbarrow of hay, my heart pumping as the gunshots continue. I point my arm with the gun above the wheelbarrow and shoot blindly, knowing I hit people due to their cries of pain.

Adrenaline pumps through my body as the bullets fly out of the gun, and a warm sensation spreads over me.

A freeing lightness.

I chuckle as I step out from behind my cover and drain the gun of bullets.

Chapter 47

Camila - 2 days later

“Where the fuck is he?” Jacques shouts down the video call.

There have been search parties out all day and night over the last two days.

There’s a permanent sick feeling in my stomach.

Xander is missing, and no one knows where he is or what he’s doing. I don’t know where Sid is, either.

Ezra tells me that Xander took him, but he didn’t tell Ezra where exactly that is.

Talk about digging yourself a hole.

Jacques has been trying to get ahold of Xander on his phone multiple times a day. The first day, the calls went through. Now, they go straight to voicemail.

The skin around my nails is raw, red, and painful as I pace Jacques’ office.

“We haven’t been able to track him down, sir. It seems that his phone is turned off,” the voice on the other end of the call says.

“Fuck,” I whimper, running my hands through my dishevelled hair and sitting down on the chair behind me.