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“He didn’t come home last night. Phone’s going straight to voicemail.” Viktor scans the room as he talks, like Liam might be hiding in a corner. “Last anyone saw him, he was at that Waters party. His motorcycle was still there this morning. I sent someone over to get it, thinking he was too shit faced to drive last night but…”

I throw back the shot, grateful for the burn that gives me a second to compose my face. “Yeah, I saw him there. Early on. Rich girl’s birthday bash, right?He was hitting on everything that moved, typical Liam. And yeah, he appeared pretty shit faced.”

“What time did you leave?”

The question sounds casual, but there’s nothing casual about Viktor’s eyes. They’re fixed on me, searching for any hint I’m lying.

“Around one, I think?” I shrug, leaning against the bar. “Had to work today. Can’t all be trust fund babies like your brother.”

“You left alone?”

My stomach tightens. “Why?”

“Just gathering information.” Viktor’s massive hands rest on the bar, fingers drumming against the wood. “Someone said they saw you with the Waters girl’s gardener. The Italian.”

Fuck. That can’t be good.

“Yeah, we talked for a bit,” I admit, figuring a partial truth is better than a complete lie. “Had some business to discuss.”

“Business.” Viktor repeats the word like he’s testing it for poison. “What kind of business does a bartender have with a gardener at 1 AM?”

I force a smirk. “The kind that’s none of your business, Bastian.”

A flicker of something dangerous crosses his face before settling back into that professional mask. Security guy through and through.

“Look,” I say, pouring another shot, “your brother’s probably sleeping it off somewhere. Or he found a tourist to harass. You know how he gets.”

“He’s my brother,” Viktor says quietly. “I always know where he is.”

There’s an intensity to his words that catches me off guard. I sometimes forget these two are actually blood. They’re nothing alike. Viktor’s all business and control while Liam’s a chaos machine with impulse control issues. But right now, I’m seeing something I’ve never seen in Viktor before. Genuine concern.

It’d be touching if I hadn’t helped bury the guy he’s looking for.

“Sorry, man.” I’m surprised to find I mean it. Not sorry Liam’s dead—that asshole had it coming—but sorry Viktor’s worried. “I’m sure he’ll turn up.”

Viktor stares at me for a long moment, then nods once. “If you hear anything, anything at all, you call me. Immediately.”

“Of course.”

He turns to leave, then stops. “One more thing. You seen Damiano Ricci today?”

My pulse kicks up. “No.”

“He was at the Waters place all night. Might’ve seen something.”

Viktor’s fishing, but he doesn’t seem to know exactly what happened. Unless he’s playing me.

“We left around the same time,” I correct.

He studies me for a beat too long. “Right. Well, if you see him, tell him I’m looking for him, too.”

“Will do.”

Viktor heads for the door, his back straight as arod. He stops to talk to a group of local guys—fishermen from the docks, judging by their weathered faces and rough clothes—island boys like me, but a decade older, the kind who know every hidden cove and secret path.

He’s organizing a search party.

This just got real.