Page 38

I ’m done sitting here.

My patience— what little I ever had —has been worn the fuck thin by the constant glaring, the useless waiting, and the growing itch in my gut that tells me something is very, very wrong.

Angel Fury’s office feels too small, too confined.

Like the walls are closing in, suffocating me with each second we waste.

Luc’s voice cuts through the tension. “So, what do we know today that we didn’t know yesterday?”

I don’t respond right away. Instead, I sit forward, elbows on my knees, and crack my neck, pushing down the frustration clawing up my spine.

“I’ve contacted everyone,” I finally say, my voice low, edged with the sharpness of restraint. “Every merc, every ex-military contact, every private sector operative I know. Nobody’s heard a damn thing about someone stupid enough to come for the Vipers.”

Angel grunts, but I don’t turn to look at him. I don’t need to. I can feel his eyes on me.

Blazing. Accusing. Distrusting.

I get it.

His instincts tell him to blame me, because I’m the new factor in this equation.

His daughter’s new husband.

The outsider in his empire.

The only man he doesn’t have complete control over.

But I’m no fucking punk looking to make a name for myself.

I don’t need to build a reputation or gain street credit. I already have everything I want.

Aella.

And I’ll burn the world down before I let anyone take her from me.

“The real question isn’t how,” Angel snaps, his voice like a crack of thunder. “It’s why? Why would someone steal something that’s worthless? Why would they break in here and take nothing , if not for the sake of breaking my fuckin balls!”

His massive fists slam down on his desk, rattling the half-empty glass of whiskey near his elbow.

I already know what he’s thinking.

That this is personal.

That someone wants to make a mockery of him.

And maybe they do. But my gut tells me there’s more to it than that.

I meet his furious gaze head-on. “I told you, Mr. Fury. It wasn’t me. I have no interest in a war with you or the Vipers.”

Angel snarls, his expression lethal. “Then who does? Who else would get off on fucking with me?”

Luc exhales heavily and leans back in his chair. “Angel, think. Sammy has nothing to gain from pulling some dumb shit like this. He’s a fucking billionaire, not some punk looking to make a power play.”

Angel doesn’t want to hear it, but Luc is right.

But something Luc said clicks in my brain.

Maybe this isn’t about Angel.

Maybe it’s about me.

“Maybe this isn’t about you,” I murmur, voicing my theory aloud.

My mind is shifting gears quickly, piecing the puzzle together as I speak.

Angel’s eyes narrow dangerously. “What the fuck are you talking about? They stole from me.”

“Yeah,” Luc says slowly, catching onto my train of thought. “But the way it happened? It’s too obvious.”

Angel’s jaw tics. “Explain.”

“Come on,” I say, sitting forward. “Think about it. You get hit. A military-style operation. The kind of tactics I know. It happens right after I marry your daughter. And what’s the first thing you do?”

Angel’s entire body goes still.

Luc smirks darkly. “You accuse Sammy.”

Angel exhales, long and slow, and for the first time since I walked into his office, I see it click.

The setup.

The precision.

The fact that whoever did this knew exactly how he’d react.

“Fuck,” Angel mutters, scrubbing a massive hand over his face.

“Exactly,” I say. “This wasn’t just about stealing from you . It was about pinning it on me .”

“But why?” he growls. “Why you?”

I already know the answer before I even say it.

Because it’s personal.

Because someone wants me to suffer.

Because someone knows the only way to get to me now is through her.

My blood turns to ice.

I feel it before it happens.

Angel’s phone rings, and he answers with his usual bark. “What? Shit. Sorry, Koukla?—”

And then— silence.

The kind of silence that precedes war.

His nostrils flare.

His eyes go wide.

I can feel his pulse rising, can almost taste the panic rolling off him in waves.

“What?” His voice is a low, lethal growl. “Where are you? When did you notice she wasn’t there?”

My whole fucking body locks up.

My hand goes to my phone, fingers moving on pure instinct.

I already know.

I already fucking know.

“Aella never arrived at the bar tonight,” Angel says, his voice strangled with rage.

The world tilts.

I try calling her— straight to voicemail.

I try tracking her cell— her phone is off.

I text Benny.

Nothing.

I text Santos.

The response never comes.

Red.

That’s all I see.

Fucking red.

I stand so fast my chair topples over, my breath coming too fast, too harsh.

I don’t think. I move.

“Where the fuck are you going?” Angel roars, charging after me.

I don’t answer.

I crack my neck.

I roll my shoulders.

I take a breath, steady and controlled.

And when I finally look at him, my voice is pure murder.

“To get my wife back.”