Page 52 of Brutal Heir (Ruthless Heirs #3)

COMING FOR YOU

A lessandro

Cazzo , Rory where are you?

I pace the length of my desk like a rabid tiger trapped in a cage, my hand brushing the square bulge in my pocket. My heart crashes against my ribs, each wild beat more suffocating than the last. She’s gone. She was there one instant and gone the next.

Who the fuck took her?

Whoever it was would be six feet under by tomorrow.

“Matty!” I roar, spinning around.

Without diverting his gaze from the screen, he grinds out, “I’m trying, Ale. There’s a lot of fucking footage to comb through.”

When tracing Rory’s phone proved futile, my cousin jumped on the computer.

For the past hour, he’s been charged with the grueling task of hacking into video camera feeds across town.

I watch as he clicks through grainy footage, cursing under his breath, then tosses back another espresso.

The Geminis have been mobilized, and they’re scouring the city.

Still, there’s nothing I can do but stand here and pace like an asshole.

I shouldn’t have waited in that damned line at the café for so long. By the time I got back to the table with the pastries my little leprechaun was gone.

Whoever took her must have come from the back entrance. No one had walked by while I was in line, and Sammy was stationed at the front of the café. They had to have come in through the alley.

Unless…

The agonizing thought lances through me, as it has been for the past hour. What if she left on her own? What if she realized she didn’t want you ?

Maybe she realized the truth, that I'm still broken. Still not whole. And maybe she doesn’t want to spend her life mending someone like me.

The ring in my pocket suddenly feels heavier. Not right at all. Maybe I shouldn’t have…

“No,” I grit out, my molars clenching. She wouldn’t just leave. Not after all we’ve been through. Someone must have lured her out somehow then snatched her. It’s the only possibility I will accept right now.

My phone buzzes in my back pocket, and my heart lurches up my throat. Sliding it out, my fingers tremble as I recognize the familiar name on the screen.

“Rory!”

Matteo finally glances up from the screen. “Keep her on the line so I can track her location.”

“It’s just a text,” I bark back.

“Then send another message. Anything to keep her online.”

Without reading her words, my fingers jab at the screen, frantically typing out the first thing that comes to mind.

Me: I love you, Rory.

No response.

Not even those damned little blue bubbles.

I wait for only a second before my gaze lifts to her original text. A wave of dread blossoms deep in my core, but I shove it down, forcing myself to read the words.

Rory: I’m so sorry, Ale. You gave me safety, freedom, and most importantly love.

Even when I didn’t think I deserved any of it.

But this is something I have to do. Not because I want to, but because someone I love is going to die if I don’t.

Please don’t come after me. If you do, Conall will hurt you.

And I couldn’t survive that. You once told me I saved you.

Now I need to return the favor for someone else. I love you, Ale. More than my own life.

She’s gone. Tears blur my vision as I read the message a second time, then a third. After the fourth, I finally shake myself from the stupor. No. I will not accept this. Fuck that. There is no way I’m losing her.

Whose life is she giving up for her own? Her bastardo of a father? One of her brothers, maybe? Merda . It doesn’t matter. Conall can go straight to fucking hell for all I care, and I’ll gladly go down with him if it means saving Rory.

My eyes snap up to Matteo, still hunched over the desk. “Were you able to trace the cell?”

A glint of amusement brightens his eyes. “Of course I was. I’m a professional, remember?”

Shaking my head, the ghost of a smile emerges.

“She’s in the Lower East Side at some nursing home.”

My brows furrow as I try to recall the name of the one patient she said she kept in touch with. Paddy something…

“Bad news is that she probably dumped the phone right after she messaged you because the signal’s gone dead. She could be on the move.”

Or in the air. If she mentioned Conall that means Belfast. According to my sources, the Butcher hasn’t set foot in Manhattan. “They’re going to the airport,” I shout.

Matteo nods, jumping up from behind the desk as I race for the door. “Then what are we waiting for?”

The tires scream against the pavement as Matteo floors it down the private road toward the airfield. I’m gripping the dashboard so hard my knuckles are white, heart pounding with every passing second.

I can’t lose her.

The idea of going back to a life without Rory has my heart refusing to pump, my lungs rejecting the idea of inflating.

“We can’t let her get away,” I growl, my voice tight with fury. “If Conall gets his hands on her...” Dio , I don’t even want to consider what he’ll do to her.

Matteo doesn't take his eyes off the road. “We’ll get her back, Ale. I swear it, cuz. You’re not going to lose that little firecracker.”

A fresh wave of dread coils in my gut. She left to save someone else. To protect me.

I check my phone again. No messages. No signal from her cell. Just the last breadcrumb one of the Gemini techs managed to dig up: a private jet, chartered from JFK. Destination: Belfast. Two passengers. No names.

But I know.

It’s her. It has to be her.

Could Conall have made it past my men somehow?

Does he have her already? Or is it one of his men escorting her to Belfast?

Or maybe it’s someone she trusts. Why else would she have agreed to meet with them at Holy Cross Nursing Home? I already had Gemini men search the facility. No sign of anyone. One of the nurses remembered seeing a redhead with another man, but she wasn’t exactly helpful with details.

We tear through the security checkpoint at the tarmac. Matteo flashes the Gemini clearance, barely slowing as we lurch toward the line of hangars and gleaming jets.

Then I see it. A white Learjet slicing through the dusky sky, its landing gear tucking in like a sneer.

“No…” I slam my fist against the dash of Matty’s BMW. “No, no, no!”

Matteo brakes hard near the control tower. “Shit. That’s the jet.”

I shove the door open and launch myself out, ignoring the guards calling after us. I race to the center of the tarmac, my heart a war drum against my ribcage. The ground shakes with the roar of the departing jet. My pulse thunders in my ears.

I’m too late. I stare up at the shrinking silhouette of the plane, every muscle in my body coiled and burning.

She’s gone.

She left me.

Despite her promises.

My knees give, smacking the tarmac, gravel biting into my skin, but I don’t feel it. She’s in the sky, gone. And I wasn’t fast enough to stop her.

“I swear to God, I’m going to kill whoever let her get on that plane.” My voice is low, venomous.

Matteo jogs up beside me, panting. “So what now? We wait? Call your father? Track it and?—”

“No.” I turn to him, jaw set. “We don’t wait. We go now.”

His brows lift. “To Belfast?”

I nod once, sharp and deadly. “She thinks I’ll let her walk away?

That I’ll just sit here while she runs straight into Conall’s hands?

Fuck that.” My voice shakes now, not with fear but burning rage as my hand sinks into my pocket and clutches the small box.

“I will scorch that city to the ground before I let him touch her.”

Matteo stares at me for a long second, then nods. “Alright then. Let’s fire up the bird.”

I whip out my phone, already dialing the Gemini Corp pilot. “Get the jet ready. We’re wheels up ASAP.”

I glance back at the empty sky, jaw clenching hard.

Hold on, Rory. I’m coming for you.