Page 14 of Angelo’s Vengeance (The Commission #3)

ANGELO

The low hum of the jet’s engines did little to help me sleep. All I could think about was Theodosia being in the hands of monsters, their hands on her. Thoughts swirled in my head like angry bees — dark ones that I struggled to keep in check.

My fingers curled into fists on the armrests, my knuckles still raw from the last fight, and my cheek throbbed.

The cabin lights had been dimmed, with gun oil mingling in the recycled air as our men worked on some of the weapons we’d brought, ensuring they were ready for the fighting we were bound to face.

Outside the windows, the dark sky stretched endlessly, but all I could see was red.

Theodosia was gone. Taken. And I was going to carve through whoever had touched her.

The last time I’d seen her had been outside Conall’s penthouse, right after my sister had been married.

Theo had been all full of spit and fire about Conall marrying Frankie without either of us there.

I had been studiously avoiding Theo for years, and then she had been right up in my face, grown up and beautiful.

I hadn’t even known what to do with myself, or where to look.

All I’d known was that I’d had to get away from her before I pushed her up against the wall and fucked her raw.

Apparently, she’d been just as horrified as I was because she’d darted away from me like I was hot lava, and then immediately moved out of the country.

Sighing, I scrubbed a hand over my face and looked out over the plane.

The Anthakos brothers were carbon copies of one another: giant brutes well over six feet tall and hulking.

All had the quintessential Greek nose and hooded dark eyes.

It was amusing to recall how small Ilias had been when I met him so many years ago in that smoky lounge my father dragged me to.

He had been so wiry and short. Sure, he had only been ten, but I would have never guessed he would become such a giant.

He’d been a nervous thing, too—twitchy as a rabbit.

That had made Conall instantly protective of him while Maxim remained suspicious for years.

Their youngest sister, Polina, looked nothing like them.

She was waifish and blonde, unlike any Anthakos at all.

It made you wonder if she was even related to them, though I didn’t care.

Polina was the fairy princess of their little clan.

On the other hand, Theodosia was lush and beautiful, dark like her brothers, with smooth Mediterranean skin that glowed in the sunshine like burnished copper.

Once, she’d been embarrassed by her figure, but she’d grown into her curves, and now she was all woman with an ass that wouldn’t quit and tits that I would give my left arm to bury myself in.

She had dark hair like her brothers, but hers was long and curly.

She embraced that, too, sometimes leaving it long and fluffing it out into a giant dark halo that resonated with her outfit, burying glittering beads or tiny colored combs in it.

Other times, she piled it on her head into little buns.

“You okay there, boss?” Bacco asked, sitting beside me and flipping his butterfly knife between his fingers as if that steady rhythm would prevent him from losing his mind.

He wasn’t a fan of flying, but he wouldn’t let me go alone.

Bacco always claimed that being in an airplane made no sense to him.

He insisted that the idea of two engines keeping a metal cylinder full of people in the air was ridiculous.

While he doubted the physics of our transportation, there was sure to be fighting, and he wouldn’t miss out on that.

“Not really,” I admitted, adjusting and readjusting my grip on the brass knuckles I had brought. My head was all messed up, and it was hard to think clearly. Sitting still wasn’t my forte.

We were heading to where we thought she was—but every second wasted felt like another cut, bleeding me dry.

It was a weird thought. I didn’t think I would care this much.

Was it because I’d known her for so long?

I didn’t want to think about the little girl I had known, the way she’d grown up before my eyes.

It had always made me uncomfortable because I knew all about the piece of paper burning a hole in my desk drawer.

Looking at her back then made me feel ashamed that I knew she wouldn’t have a choice—that she’d be saddled with one of us as a husband.

It had felt weird and wrong. Now I wondered if I should feel bad that it felt right.

I’d set my father up to be killed in a drive-by shooting when I was seventeen. Made sure I’d be there to take the final shot so I could look the fucker in the eyes when it happened. I’d been happy as fuck when I did. Celebrated afterwards.

Frankie had only been nine, and Theo had been ten. They were just kids. At that time, I felt physically disgusted by what the blood oath represented. It made me irrationally angry to think that the mafia world had trapped us.

Trapped me .

I had never told anyone, but I had strongly considered taking my siblings and leaving New York —leaving everything behind.

I imagined being a fisherman or something like that.

Go somewhere where nobody knew who Angelo Santelli was…

because who was I, really? Carlotta’s biological son, yes.

What the fuck did that matter in the end?

She was a hateful bitch. I was half-Italian, I suppose.

I de finitely wasn’t Stefano’s son. Everyone could tell just by looking at me.

I didn’t even look Italian. I had learned Italian for Stefano’s sake, but my skin was too pale, my eyes nearly green, and my hair so light brown it was almost blonde.

Fuck, Conall looked more like my brother than Remo did.

When I was younger, it had bothered me when the other dons of the Five Families had turned their noses up at me for not being Italian enough.

Now I didn’t give a shit what they thought.

I had clawed my way up the ladder the old-fashioned way.

Hard work, blood, and instilling enough fear in them that they would have to kill me to take the Santelli famiglia away from me.

My phone buzzed, dragging me out of my thoughts, ringing through on the special line — the one for which only a handful of people had the number. I snatched it up, barely glancing at the name before answering. A call meant information, and that was what I craved right now.

"Talk."

"Angelo,” Veronica’s voice was sharp and urgent. "I've found her."

I snapped my fingers and switched the phone to speaker mode. “Veronica found her.” The entire cabin went silent. Every head turned toward me. "Where?" My fingers tightened around the phone as I hoped the news was good.

“Not Italy. She’s in the United States. Louisiana, New Orleans, specifically."

My eyes were already scanning the cabin when I noticed that Kostas was up and moving toward the front of the plane.

Good, I thought — he was going to get us on the right flight path.

Still, my heart lurched into my throat. Jesus, we had been in the air for hours, heading in the wrong direction.

We could have been there by now. Mentally, I calculated the math.

This wasn’t good. We had lost hours flying toward Italy, believing she was there.

I tried to take a deep breath, clutching the steel of the knuckles to ground myself.

“ Cazzo .” More to myself than anyone, I swore under my breath. "How the fuck did she end up there?"

"Salvatore Renzetti." Her words were precise, each one landing like a blade. "He took her to some kind of plantation there, and there's more."

My entire body went still. "Tell me. "

"There’s going to be an auction. A private, high-stakes one. She’s listed as one of the top prizes.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Something cold and violent uncoiled inside me.

My fingers itched for my gun, yearning for the sensation of my blade sliding into flesh.

Auction. As if Theodosia were some fucking object.

Some possession to be bought and sold. I forced myself to breathe steadily, but my vision was already darkening at the edges.

"Veronica." My voice was quiet, deadly. "Tell me you have something else.”

"I’ve hacked into their encrypted communications. It’s happening tonight. Only verified guests can enter. The bidding list is made up of traffickers, slavers, and other degenerates who think they’re untouchable. Typical,” she snorted.

They thought wrong.

"Renzetti doesn’t plan to sell her immediately. He wants to make a spectacle. Show her off like a trophy before the bidding begins. This is his sort of crowd, and he’s made sure that this group knows he’s got her. ”

I swallowed back the urge to vomit. "Tell me Maxim knows."

"He does. He and Conall have already left for New Orleans with a crew. They’re currently on the ground, gathering intel. A helicopter will be waiting for you. This place is far enough from the city center that you’ll want one.”

I looked at the men around me. Every face was locked in fury. "We’re changing course," I said. "Get me whatever else you can, Veronica. Security measures, guards, the property layout—I want it all."

"You’ll have it," she confirmed. "And Angelo?—"

"What?" I ground out.

"Burn him," she said. "Make him suffer."

I hung up and made to stand when Kostas returned just as the plane banked.

“Changing course,” he confirmed grimly. “Can you catch me up?”

I took a slow breath, gripping the back of a seat as I forced the words out. "Renzetti has her. He’s planning a private auction."

"What?" His jaw clenched so hard I wondered if he’d break a tooth.

I cut him a look that made him pause, but I could see the same storm in his eyes that I felt in my chest.“Veronica hacked into their system.

We have forty-eight hours before it happens.

" I turned to Bacco. "Contact one of the families in New Orleans that we know. I want everything they know about this operation of Renzetti’s that he has there.” He nodded, already pulling out his phone.

“Maxim and Conall are already there, so we’ll have backup.

I say we go in hard.” I scanned each of them for confirmation.

“We can check the intel first. There will be heavy security. I’m guessing that precautions will be taken if this is that sort of event.

Firepower.” Still, the idea of going in and sneaking around just to bring Theo out didn’t sit right.

She was the priority, but Renzetti needed to pay for this.

I wouldn’t feel comfortable with him walking around, breathing, after this.

Ilias ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tight. "I want that asshole fucking dead. I want blood.”

“You’ll get it,” I promised. “I want it too, but we need a plan. We can’t just take Renzetti.

We wipe his entire fucking operation off the map.

No survivors. No mercy. But Theo is the priority,” I added.

“If we can’t get Renzetti, then we’ll cut our losses and take what we can.

” I clenched my fists, digging my nails into my palms at the thought of not exacting the vengeance I craved, but I had a responsibility to Theodosia first.

Remo, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke. "What about the auction guests? If they’re coming to buy?—"

"Then they’ll die alongside him," I said flatly. "Every last one, but Theo first. If other women are held, we’ll try to get them too.”

“Any thoughts about the why?” Bacco asked. “Renzetti grabbed her because?”

It bothered me, too. If he had grabbed her and married her, maybe it would have made a little more sense—forcing an alliance with the Anthakos.

They would form a powerful partnership to leverage their smuggling and shipping enterprises if he lived long enough.

If he could actually pull it off, he might think that he could also secure a seat with the Commission.

Perhaps he would have thought he’d be doing me a favor, and I’d thank him for it.

But auctioning her off? That was stupid.

“We must be missing something. This feels like a fuck you. He has to know that treating her this way would be utterly insulting.” Bacco had his knife back out, swirling around his knuckles, and I wanted to smack him in the face

“Who is this guy? I mean, yeah, we killed his cousin or whatever, but he deserved it.” Vaso rubbed the back of his neck. “Are we missing the connection?”

“I’ll get on it and see if I can find anything that Veronica has missed. I’m sure that she is looking as we speak.” Kostas reached for his computer.

“You’re right, Bacco. This grab is personal. Whatever the reason was behind it. He’s going to pay for it.”

Silence fell. The kind that came with understanding.

I knew everyone felt the same — off-kilter and unsure, with a sick sense of rage building behind it.

Normally, our world existed in shades of grey.

The Commission had clear lines within which we operated, doing some bad things to bad people, but for the most part, we kept that to those who deserved it.

We definitely didn’t go around kidnapping innocent women.

I pulled out my gun, checking the magazine before snapping it back into place. I glanced over my shoulder at the soldiers we’d brought along, wondering if we brought enough. Hopefully, Maxim and Conall came through for us.

"We do this fast," I continued. "We do it loud. And when it’s done, there won’t be enough left of Renzetti to fill a fucking shoebox."

Kostas exhaled sharply, his eyes gleaming with vengeance. "I like the sound of that."

I met Ilias’s gaze. "We will get her back. We’ll put him in the ground. And we’ll make sure everyone knows what happens when they touch what’s ours."

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his fists flexing. "Damn right."

The cabin fell into a grim, focused silence. Weapons were checked, plans were made, and by the time the pilot confirmed our descent into New Orleans, one thing was certain.

Renzetti had made a mistake.

And I was going to make damn sure it was his last.