Page 91

I should’ve never thrown her out of my house. But I let my damn weakness get in the way. Instead of demanding the truth, I kicked her to the curb. I’m a fucking coward. I should have stood in front of her, forced her to look me in the eyes, and made her tell me everything. But I didn’t.

Before I can even end the call with Seb, Liv’s number lights up my screen. I hang up on him without a word to see what’s come in. One look at the message, and my stomach twists. It’s a photo of Liv tied to a chair, head slumped to the side, bruised and bloody.

Then her phone is calling mine. For one stupid second, I hope it’s her, calling to say she’s okay, that it’s some fucked-up joke. But it’s Ezra’s smug voice on the other end.

“Don Alessio,” he drawls, dripping sarcasm. I snap my fingers at Kota like a madman, and somehow, he manages to understand my half-assed hand signals and starts tapping on his phone.

“Always a pleasure dealing with scum like you. Thought you’d appreciate a heads-up. If you want your little whore alive, I want five million in cash, delivered to the location I just dropped to your phone in one hour, alone, or the rat bitch dies.”

He hangs up before I can open my mouth to unload on him. I’m left there, phone pressed to my ear, and my chest so tight it feels like it might cave in.

“Seb’s tracking her number now,” Kota tells me.

I storm out of Liv’s room, well, what used to be her room, and head for the safe in my office. I yank the door open and stuff stacks of cash into a duffel bag. Kotadoesn’t need me to say a damn thing. He’s right there beside me, locked and loaded.

“You’re not going alone,” he says.

I scowl. “Didn’t fucking plan to.”

He huffs, a ghost of a grin on his lips. “Good.”

We arm up and pile into my bulletproof Navigator, in case shit goes sideways. I punch in the address Ezra sent me. It’s some abandoned warehouse on the other side of town.

My phone pings with another message, and the second I see it’s a video, my blood goes ice-fucking-cold. I tap the screen, and there’s Liv, tied to a chair. I can’t see much of the background, but I see enough to know it’s theGrotto. Her cheek is swollen, her lip is split, and the ropes around her wrists are so tight they’ve rubbed the skin raw. Her eyes are closed, but I can see her chest rise and fall. She’s still breathing.

Liv flinches when some asshole off-screen grabs her jaw, forcing her head up. I can’t see his face, but I know it’s Ezra. He’s saying something, but I can’t hear a damn word, my ragged heartbeat drowns it all out. I don’t give a shit anyway; he’s a dead man walking.

My vision goes dark around the edges, fury twisting in my gut. A feral growl tears from my throat that barelysounds human. Kota’s watching me, seeing I’m about to lose it.

“Call for backup,” I bite out.

He’s on his phone in a second. I yank the wheel hard, and the Navigator screeches as we tear out of the lot like the hounds of hell are on our heels. Because if Ezra wants a war, he’s about to fucking get one.

41

Liv

Something grabs my face… fingers, I think, squeezing my cheeks before shoving my head sideways. I blink awake, and damn, my head is pounding so bad it feels like someone’s drilling into my skull. Every muscle in my body aches like I got tossed around by a tornado. I can’t move my arms, and something digs into my wrists when I try to shift. That’s when I realize I’m tied to a fucking chair.

I squint, trying to figure out where I am. The stupid lights are so damn bright that they feel like a dozen mini suns, beaming directly on me, melting my skin.

My hoodie and phone are gone, and I’m in the middle of this grimy-ass cage. Everything feels like a blur until I see him. Ezra’s pacing in a circle around me like a vulture, and I’m the carcass he’s about to pick clean.

I know I’m fucked.

No, you’re not, Liv. Breathe. Focus. Freaking out won’t get you out of this.

I take a few breaths to calm myself down when he starts speaking.

“You want to know why you’re here?” he spits out like he’s daring me to ask him.

But I don’t. I’m too busy trying to figure out how the hell I ended up tied to a chair, how much time I’ve lost, and whether or not I’m walking out of here.

Ezra steps closer, tilting his head as he studies me like he’s picking apart every inch of me.

“You’re just like her,” he spits. “A lying little bitch who thought she could take down my father.”

My stomach knots, but I force myself to stay still.