Page 149

On the way to Damiano's mansion, I text some more with Audra, assuring her that her mom is okay. Man, that woman is under my skin.

Damiano's mansion sits just outside the city limits. It's built on twenty acres of nothing but wide-open land. Nothing but desert and distance. The kind of place where no one hears anything they're not supposed to. The kind of place where nobody gets in or out without him or his guards knowing.

The gates open before we even slow down. Without hesitation, Mauro drives us through. Gravel crunches under the tires. Soon, the house rises ahead of us, massive and modern, with sharp edges cutting into the desert sky.

The entire mansion is a lie. It's too clean for a man like him. Too controlled. Maybe that's why he prefers his penthouse at his casino. But for our situation, I approve of his choice of location.

I step out first. Damiano is already moving. Energy crackles off him like he's been waiting for this all day. Mauro drags the woman and the kid out next. She stumbles once. Catches herself without making a sound. She's a tough one. I'll give her that. The kid doesn't let go. Not even when Mauro tries to separate them.

"Leave them together," Damiano orders.

Still looking at the woman. The moment he looks at the kid, everything changes. Something inside him… gives. Like a fault line finally cracking open. An expression I've never seen on him crosses his face. Gone is the smirk. The amusement. The edge. For a second, he looks like a man who just got hit by the worst news, and he still can't process it. Like his body forgot how to function. Like he might actually drop dead, right here.

My frown deepens. What the fuck?

His eyes don't move; they stay locked on the kid. Unblinking. Unhinged in a way that doesn't fit him. Not rage. Not violence. Something worse. Something deeplypersonal. As if the kid had killed his family. No, that's wrong. Damiano wouldn't care aboutthat. Maybe one of us? I follow his gaze. The kid presses himself into the woman's side, looking utterly terrified. Something glitters in the harsh sunlight. A golden chain around the kid's neck. It glints under the light as he shifts. Just a regular gold chain, nothing special other than that it looks expensive.

"Where did you get that?" Damiano's voice cuts through the driveway. Sharp. Wrong. There's no control in it. None. Before either of them can react, he moves. Fast. He's on the boy in two strides and rips the necklace straight off his neck. The chain snaps. The kid cries out, high, panicked, raw. That's when the woman loses it.

"Leave him alone!" she screams, launching herself forward despite the cuffs. "That's his! That's the only thing he has from his mother!"

Wrong move. Damiano turns on her, and I freeze. Because I've seen him murderous before. I've seen him lose his temper. I've seen him beat a man to death with his bare hands. But this?

This is different. This is what happens when a man loses his last shred of control. He gets right in her face. Too close. Too intense.

"What. Is. This," he demands, holding the chain, which I can now see holds a ring, up between them.

His hand isn't steady. That's what gets me. Not the anger. Not the volume. Theshake. Damiano doesn't shake. Ever.

She glares at him, breathing hard, defiant even now. "I told you. It's his. His mother gave it to him. Now give it back?—"

"Who?" The word cracks out of him. Barely controlled. "Who gave him this?"

"I just told you?—"

"WHO?"

Recognition hits me. The ring. I've seen it before. Damiano used to wear it. All the time. Like a second skin. Like a warning. It was his pride.

His family disowned him when he turned eighteen, decided he wasn't fit to carry their name. Too volatile. Too ruthless. Not refined enough for their old-money bullshit. The kind of people who should've been sipping whiskey in New York or Rome, not clawing power out of Las Vegas.

Didn't matter. Damiano took what they wouldn't give him. I know exactly how, because he told me. The morning after he killed his father. After he tore his empire apart piece by piece and rebuilt it under his own name. He showed me the ring like it meant something. Like it proved something. A heavy signet. A family crest carved deep into blackened gold. Only ever worn by the patriarch. By the man in charge.

He wore it for years after that. Like a crown no one could take from him. Until about three years ago. Right around the time Catarina disappeared. One day, it was just… gone. He never mentioned it again. As if it had never existed.

I never asked. Searching for Catarina kept me busy, and then I just forgot. My stomach tightens.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

Damiano stares at the ring like it's about to burn him. Like it already is. His thumb drags over the metal, searching for a mark only he would recognize. I see it. The exact second it hits him. Not anger. Not rage. Something far worse. His control doesn't slip. Itshatters.

A sharp breath leaves him, like it was ripped out of his lungs. His shoulders go rigid. His hand tightens around the ring like he's afraid it'll disappear again.

"No…" he mutters.

He snaps. The sound that tears out of him isn't human. It's raw. Ragged. Somewhere between a curse and a shout. He turns and drives his fist straight into the side of the Escalade. Metal dents with a sickening crunch. Once. Twice. Again. Eachhit harder than the last. The kid cries out. The woman jerks back, trying to shield him, but Damiano doesn't even see them anymore. He's gone. Completely gone.