Page 33 of Always A Villain (Revenge Duet #2)

“ I found the financial backer of the attack,” Arsen says, sliding a stack of documents across the table.

I don’t even glance at him; my eyes lock onto the pages as I start scanning.

Diego Salazar. The name alone makes my jaw clench.

“Salazar Financial Enterprises—the most powerful arms dealer in Spain?” I mutter, flipping through the files, piecing together the inevitable.

“The one and only.”

The Salazars aren’t just rich; they’re a goddamn empire built on blood and power, entrenched in politics and the underworld.

“Why the fuck is he funding an attack on us?”

Arsen pushes another file toward me. Missing persons report. A teenager, barely seventeen—Lupe Salazar, Diego’s daughter.

“She vanished three months ago. The family hushed it up because of their status,” Arsen explains.

I flip through the report, my mind already working ahead. “So his daughter was taken by the same bastards responsible for the other abductions.” My fingers tighten on the paper. “What does this have to do with the Sovereign?”

Arsen hands me another document. Port logs.

“I took your advice and sifted through shipping manifests at our ports in Spain and Portugal. One ship keeps surfacing.” He taps the name. The Albatros. “Every time it docks, it’s carrying the same cargo.”

Scanning the logs, I grunt, “Weapons.”

“Yeah, but the numbers don’t add up. Weight, dimensions—it’s off.” He points, his finger tracing the discrepancies. “There’s more than just guns on that ship.”

“The Sovereign controls those ports. Any deviation would raise hell.”

“Look at the Sovereign’s signature more closely.”

I pause. My stomach drops.

Conrad Valentine’s name is stamped across every page.

“What the hell…”

“The logs were altered. It’s a cover-up,” Arsen confirms, voice edged with disgust. “That’s not all. The Albatros is registered under a shell corporation—one that ties back to Antonio DeLuca.”

Marco DeLuca’s fucking brother.

“This is a Dolore smuggling operation,” I growl, the pieces falling into place with sickening clarity.

Arsen exhales sharply. “I knew Conrad was a greedy bastard, but I never expected this.” His fingers rake through his hair. “He’s been letting the Dolore traffic weapons and children through our ports.”

I inhale slowly, barely keeping my rage contained. “Then why the fuck did he have me kill Marco?”

“That’s what I don’t get. If Conrad was working with the Dolore, why order the hit?” Arsen shakes his head. “Doesn’t make sense.”

Unless…

Mind racing, I tap the documents. “Maybe Marco got greedy, made a move Conrad didn’t like.” I grit my teeth, jaw grinding. “Either way, this is bigger than us. Conrad has betrayed the Sovereign. He gave the Dolore access, and Salazar retaliated against us to avenge his daughter.”

“All those fathers marching to their deaths—for fucking nothing,” Arsen spits. “The Sovereign wasn’t their enemy. Conrad was.” His nostrils flare. “And now he’s gonna pay for it.”

“Who else knows?”

“No one. You’re the first. Isaac’s too busy keeping the ranks calm. The other Commanders are drowning in fallout. I kept this quiet, but when it gets out…” He exhales heavily.

“Fuck,” I mutter, gripping the edge of the table so tight my knuckles pop.

Arsen meets my gaze. “Couldn’t have done it without you finding the connection on the missing kids.”

“Yeah, thank Rory for that.”

Just then, Griffen strides over, arms crossed. “I’ve got a lead on the bastards who hit us last night.”

I don’t even blink. “And? ”

Griffen doesn’t get the chance to answer before Arsen interjects.

“Jesus, you were attacked last night? Fuck, I just heard you crashed your bike.”

“It was a fucking day,” I snap, my patience thin. I turn to Griffen. “Who were they?”

“The Black Eagles. They’re a top tier merc unit. Ran their prints through the databases. These guys don’t take street-level jobs. High-profile extractions only.”

Extractions.

My breath stills. My mind rewinds.

They weren’t a hit team.

They weren’t there to kill me.

They were there to take someone.

My pulse kicks up. I scan the room, gut twisting when I don’t see her.

“Rory,” I mutter, my voice rough.

“What?” Griffen’s standing there clueless, and it pisses me off more.

“Where the fuck is she?” My hand clamps down on his arm—hard.

He stares at me, confused. “Relax. She went to the car for a charger. She’s fine.”

“How long?” I barely recognize my own voice.

Yanking his arm free, he shrugs. “I don’t know—five minutes?”

FIVE FUCKING MINUTES?

I don’t wait.

The second he says it, a primal instinct claws up my spine. A warning. I’m out of time .

I shove past him.

Three strides to the door.

My body is a coiled spring, every instinct screaming at me. The elevator can’t hit the ground floor fast enough.

“Axe, what the hell!” Griffen’s shout barely registers as the elevator doors slide shut. I don’t waste breath on a reply.

Once I hit street level, I see the Range Rover. Back door wide open. Rain pouring inside. No sign of her.

The air punches out of my chest.

“Rory!” Her name rips from my throat before I even process the thought. I sprint. My heart’s a jackhammer as I skid to a stop beside the car. Empty. The seats are soaked, her keys lay abandoned on the pavement, and the knot in my chest tightens until I can’t fucking breathe.

She’s not here.

“RORY!” I roar through the downpour.

Brain spiraling, hands shaking, I slam my fist into the hood. The impact rattles through my bones, metal denting beneath my knuckles.

She’s gone.

“Axe, what the hell is going on!?” Griffen’s close behind, but his words are drowned out by the violent dread overtaking me.

“She’s gone!” I shove past him, yanking out my phone and dialing her number—voicemail. My grip tightens around the device, barely resisting the urge to hurl it into the pavement.

“They took her, Griffen, don’t you get it!?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” His brow furrows, rain dripping down his face .

I whirl on him, chest heaving. “I wasn’t the target. She was. The Black Eagles—they weren’t there to kill me. They were there to take her.”

My vision blurs red. My pulse pounds so hard it’s painful. I want to kill everyone.

“Why the hell would anyone take Rory?” Griffen demands, voice edged with shock.

I don’t answer. There’s no time for questions, no time for this shit. My legs move on pure instinct—hunting mode.

“Axe!” he yells, but I’m already inside, slamming the elevator button so hard the plastic cracks.

The second the doors part, I’m moving. Fast.

Conrad. That sneaky, power-hungry motherfucker. He’s been playing me from the start.

My boots slam against the tile, people diving out of my way as I storm through the corridor.

I reach Conrad’s office.

Boom .

The door splinters under my boot.

Empty.

“Motherfucker!”

I snarl, spinning on my heel, and slam my fist through the wall. Drywall explodes, dust raining onto the floor. My breaths come hard. Ragged. I need something— someone —to tear apart.

Arsen’s voice rings from behind me in the hallway. “Axe! Wait! Stop!”

I don’t stop.

“Where the fuck is Conrad!?” I shout.

“No one’s seen him since this morning.” Arsen’s keeping pace, trying to get a read on me. “Axe, you need to slow down and tell me what the hell is going on.”

“No, I don’t.” I’m past the point of seething. “Conrad knows where she is. And he’s going to tell me. I don’t give a fuck if he’s a Commander—I will slit his fucking throat.”

The rage in my voice makes Arsen hesitate. He’s seen me mad before, but never like this.

“Axe—wait.” His voice drops, cautious. “Where is Rory?”

I stop. Barely. My fists clench, nails digging deep, the sting barely registering.

“She’s gone, Arsen. This whole fucking time, I thought they were after me. But it was her.”

His jaw tics. “Why the hell would the Dolore want Rory?”

“That’s what I’m about to find out.”

I storm into the next elevator, and as the doors start closing, I lock eyes with him.

“Tell Griffen to check the Range Rover’s cameras. I want to know who the fuck took her.”

The doors slide shut.

Silence.

The kind of silence that breeds violence.

This is my fault.

My failure.

I let this happen. Now she’s gone, and I don’t know where, and I don’t know who took her, and I don’t know if she’s hurt, and I?—

My nails bite deeper into my palms.

No one touches her and lives.

No one .

I will bring them unimaginable horrors.

The elevator dings.

I step out, my decision already made.

Time to pay the bitch chained in my basement a very painful visit.