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“You’ll want this.” He’s insistent. I must admit, I’m intrigued to find out what he wishes to tell me. I meant what I said, though. We may be using my warehouse for this, but the Volantes are in charge of what happens here. It’s their right to punish those who threaten their women. If the roles were reversed, I’d insist on the same. Not that I have a woman to avenge.

Turning my back on Balogh to emphasize just how insignificant a threat he poses to me, I approach the Volante brothers.

“You think he might have something useful for you?” Leo asks.

I shrug. “I can’t imagine what, but he seems certain he does.”

Matteo rolls his head from one side to the other, stretching the muscles in his neck. A cracking sound confirms he’s tense. He hasn’t worked out all of his aggression yet.

“But it’s your call,” I tell them.

Leo scratches the back of his head. “If he’s got something you can use, you should hear him out.”

“What the fuck, Leo?” Matteo is more hotheaded than I thought. He really wants to end Balogh.

“We owe Piotr for helping us tonight,” Leo reasons. “If he hadn’t found the girls…”

A shudder ripples across Leo’s broad shoulders. Despite his reputation for callousness, he obviously cares for the women in his life. He stares pointedly at Matteo until the younger man exhales sharply.

“Yeah, okay, we do owe you.” Matteo pulls me into a hug that has my spine stiffening. These Italians are demonstrative with their feelings. It’s unsettling. “If he’s playing you, make sure he suffers.”

It’s not like I’d do anything else. “Of course.”

As the Volante brothers leave, I turn to look at the shell of a man I’m now alone with. If I’m honest, I think he’s suffered enough. He was only a bit player in the plot to kidnap Emilia. I may dish out violence regularly, but I like to think I’m fair about it. The punishment should fit the crime. I’d have chopped off his fingers and left it at that.

“Okay, Grigori, I’m listening. Persuade me you have something worth sparing your miserable life for.”

“There are photos,” he wheezes.

That’s not what I expected. “Photos of what?”

“The Volante bitch.”

“Emilia?”

He shakes his head, then sucks in a shuddering breath. “No, the princess.”

“Olivia?”

“Igen.” He slips into his native language.

“What sort of photos?”

The leer on his bruised and battered face is answer enough.

“You have these in your possession?” I ask.

He nods weakly. “Joey Gallo left them in my safekeeping.”

“Gallo?” I spit the name. The man is total scum. Or should I say, he was. Gallo disappeared a few months ago and rumor has it Leo Volante took him out. “Why did he have photos of Olivia?”

Balogh coughs violently, blood and saliva spitting from his mouth. “I don’t know. He didn’t give me his life story. He just asked me to hide them.”

That sounds about right. Balogh is a man who’ll do anything for anyone as long as the price is right, but you’d have to be mad to share more with him than necessary.

“Okay, so where are these photos?”

“Let me out of here. I’ll take you to them.”