Page 82

"How long?" I ask, already moving toward the door.
"Ava—"
"How long since you left him?"
Tomasso glances at his watch. "Twenty minutes. Maybe twenty-five."
Twenty-five minutes of what? Torture? Interrogation? Is he even still...
No. Can't think like that. Can't let fear paralyze me.
Time to be the daughter my parents raised.
Time to save the father of my child.
Even if it kills me.
I force myself to focus on Tony first, examining his injuries with hands that I refuse to let shake. Split lip. Black eye. Bruised ribs from the way he's holding himself. But alive. Breathing. Here.
"They kept asking what I knew," he mumbles as I clean the blood from his face. "About the club. About you.”
"Save your strength," I tell him, but my mind races. The Fioris think Tony knows something. Think I told him details about my mission that I never shared.
Which means they'll keep hurting Stefano trying to verify information that doesn't exist.
"Tell me exactly what happened," I say to Tomasso, who's pacing like a caged animal. "Every detail."
"The exchange point was an old warehouse." His voice is clipped, professional despite the tension radiating from him. "We verified their numbers—twelve visible guards, nothing we couldn't handle. They brought Tony out, let us check he was alive. Everything seemed standard."
"Until?" I press antiseptic against Tony's split lip, making him hiss.
"Until Stefano was about to sign the transfer papers.”
"What happened next?"
"It was like they materialized from the walls. Twenty, maybe thirty more men. All armed. All professional." He runs a hand through his hair, messing up his usually perfect appearance. "Stefano realized what was happening first. Started fighting before they could completely surround him."
Tony makes a sound like a wounded animal. "My fault. All my fault."
"No." I grip his shoulder, probably harder than I should. "The Fioris did this. Not you."
"He fought like a demon," Tomasso continues. "Took down four of them before they could react. Screamed at us to run while he kept them busy. I tried to get to him, but there were too many..."
I can almost see Stefano fighting impossible odds, sacrificing himself to save my brother. To give us time to escape.
To protect what's his, like always.
"They weren't even trying to kill him," Tomasso adds quietly. "They wanted him alive. Which means..."
"Which means they have plans." I finish cleaning Tony's face, mind already spinning with ways to turn this nightmare to our advantage.
Because that's what con artists do, isn't it? Find leverage. Create opportunities. Turn bad situations into winning hands.
And right now, I have something the Fioris want more than territory or money or even Stefano himself.
His heir.
The thought barely has time to form before I'm moving, reaching for my phone. Tomasso starts to say something, probably trying to stop me.