Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 115400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Fuck.
Travis and Jake were my best men, which is exactly why I assigned them to Chiara. With them, I knew she was safe. They were focused, brutal, and paid sharp attention to detail, all while still being capable of blending in. They wouldn’t have intimidated her, and given time, I’m sure they all would have become quite friendly.
Dread sinks heavily into my veins.
Chiara.
If something has happened to her . . . fuck.
As I cut across the sidewalk, I lift my gaze to Chiara’s bedroom window and find it wide open. She doesn’t strike me as the type to be careless about her safety, whether her apartment is on the third story or not. She’s supposed to be at work, and I doubt she would leave for the night without locking up properly.
At the complex door, I use the spare key I had copied and make my way into the building, my pace quickening by the second.
Something doesn’t feel right. I’ve been in enough situations like this to know when things aren’t adding up. Hell, I’ve been the reason for this kind of dread more times than I could ever try to count.
What are the chances that the two men I assigned to Chiara just happened to lose their lives in a bad street mugging that turned deadly? Because the only other explanation is that someone came for my girl, and if I open her door to find her lying in a pool of blood on the ground, the storm I will wield will bring this whole fucking world down.
Reaching the third floor, I storm toward Chiara’s door, only to find it in shattered pieces on the floor.
I pause, quickly taking in the apartment.
It’s dead quiet apart from the outside noise flowing in through the open bedroom window, but all that matters to me is the smashed phone I’d given Chiara left on the floor.
I stride deeper into the apartment and crouch down in front of the phone before scooping it up. The screen is smashed, but upon pressing the home button, it lights up and I brush my thumb across the shattered glass to find it open to our text chain with an unsent text.
The screen is too shattered to try and make out the words clearly, so I hit send and wait just a moment for the text to arrive on my phone.
Chiara — Stop being such an arrogant asshole and see what’s right in front of your face. I belong right there with you. I love you, and I know you love me, too. Nothing else should matter.
Fuck me. She couldn’t be so right.
I screwed up letting her go. I should have held on tighter, and instead of letting the fear of losing her keep me from loving her, I should have figured out the source of that fear and burned it to the ground.
After making a quick round of Chiara’s apartment, it becomes all too clear that she’s not here. Apart from the open window, shattered phone, and broken door, there doesn’t appear to be any sign of foul play against her. If she was hurt here, it wasn’t enough to draw blood.
Pulling up my driver’s number on my phone, I give him a quick call. “Boss?”
“Head down to Chiara’s bar, make sure she’s not working and report back.”
“On it.”
I hear as he pulls away, and just as I start circling the apartment again, I hear someone in the hallway outside the apartment. “What the fuck was that? You were supposed to take her and leave. Now there’s fucking dead bodies and witnesses. The cops are going to be crawling all over this.”
There’s silence for a moment, telling me he’s on the phone as opposed to having someone with him. It’s not a voice I recognize, but there could only be a small handful of people it could belong to. “I don’t give a fuck. I did what you asked, and you got the fucking bitch. Why does it matter how it happened? Just pay me what you owe me.”
Fuck. That could mean a million different things, but it confirms what I already know to be true. Chiara’s been taken.
The storm begins brewing inside of me, and I can’t wait to bring it down on the fucker who thought they could touch what’s mine. I fucking meant it when I said she was my wife. I know there’s no signature on a dotted line, but the moment I claimed her as my own, it felt right.
Fuck. If I’m too late . . .
Hearing the person out in the hallway come closer, I move around the kitchen, keeping out of sight from the door. He strides right in, completely unaware of the hurricane he’s about to face.
I recognize him from the file Sergiu gave me on Chiara at the beginning. It’s her ex, Derek Monroe, and from what I’ve been able to learn of him, he’s nothing much. Just a misguided loser who uses the people around him for a step up. And clearly, that’s exactly what he’s done to Chiara. He gave her up for a payday, and that’s not something I can possibly look past.