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Damien helps her back to her seat as Ollie shoves a laptop in front of my face. Unblinking, I watch the video surveillance of what happened when the fuckers took Genesis. I have Ollie replay it over a dozen times, taking in every single detail.

I note the time stamps. The height of the men. How many there are. What Genesis was wearing.

Every single detail is embedded in my brain.

Emilio and Antonio are at my back, doing the same thing.

“Email that to me,” I tell Ollie, and he salutes me.

“I pulled Sage’s file,” Lora says grimly, opening a drawer and dropping a folder in front of me. “The girl wasn’t much of a talker, so our information is limited. I’m hoping there’s enoughto find Genesis. I suggest we call law enforcement, and they can?—”

“No,” Antonio says, speaking over her. “No need for that.”

Lora warily stares at him. “Okay,” she whispers, as if questioning if she’s morally okay with overstepping this line.

She has to know what Antonio meant.

I open the folder, and my phone rings before I have the chance to read over it.

Derrick’s name flashes on my screen.

I hold the phone up toward Lora. “The police.”

Lora’s shoulders ease an inch.

There. Maybe that’ll make her feel somewhat better.

She doesn’t need to know he’s on our payroll.

“Talk to me,” I say, answering the call as Antonio starts flipping through the pages of Sage’s folder.

“Sage Losev,” he starts. “Her stepfather, Denis ‘Bird Eye’ Losev, works for the Morozova family. He was given the nickname because he used to pluck out birds’ eyes when he was a kid. Fucking weird and inhumane.”

“Motherfucker,” I hiss beneath my breath, struggling to control the urge not to throw my phone through the damn wall.

“There’s more.”

“Go on.”

“Rumor is, she’s Carlisle Astor’s secret child. The Feds have been looking into his transactions, and we found multiple payments to Denis’s wife, dating back twenty years ago.”

I bare my teeth. “Get me Denis’s address.”

“Texting it to you now.” He ends the call.

A beat-uppurple minivan sits in the driveway of the duplex home.

We’ve been sitting outside, across the street, for five minutes and haven’t seen any movement.

Five minutes longer than what I’d like, but I need to be smart in every move I make.

“Hotheaded men always die faster than those who keep cool heads.” That’s what my father used to say. “Only be a hothead when you’re kicking another man’s ass. Otherwise, be calculated about every step you make.”

On the drive here, Damien called Pippa and told her to find every online trace of Sage—all her social media accounts, anywhere she tagged her locations, or family members.

I stare at the home, already knowing Genesis isn’t in there.

All this place will have are clues that will lead me to her.