Page 38 of Enzo (Legacy of Heathens #3)

ENZO

O rgans of the night.

That was the name of Atticus’s organization. The very one that had been kidnapping humans and butchering them like animals in order to harvest their organs. It’d taken me a while to find out, but once Atticus revealed himself, I dug through thousands of various layers of shell companies to find it.

Then, to my surprise, Kian Cortes sent a message through my secured channel confirming it. Lo and behold, I was getting close to dismantling Atticus Popov.

Aunt Athena, Uncle Manuel’s wife, had claimed that Atticus wasn’t right in the head. She said that roughly around the time she learned he was her father. I was only a teenager then and didn’t understand.

As I watched the scene in front of me, her words resonated in my head and in my very soul.

The camp was filled with people, their only value being the vitality of their organs that would eventually be harvested and sold to the highest bidder.

All around, silence hung heavy in the night air. Even the moon couldn’t seem to find the strength to shine here. Muted red lights surrounded the camp, letting us know how secluded it was, with nobody and nothing to reach us for miles.

“I don’t like the idea of leaving you here alone,” Amadeo said. The cloak of darkness afforded us a level of security. The nights were cooler in this part of Western Sahara, and both of us wore NordicTrack jackets.

“If I need help, I’ll call.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” he muttered.

“Somehow I doubt that,” I retorted dryly.

We were an hour outside Laayoune, a city with a turbulent history of violence and corruption. One might not think business could flourish here, and they wouldn’t be wrong.

Unless you bribed the government officials to turn a blind eye to wrongs you were doing. Then this location, roughly an hour from the airport, was ideal. Its proximity to Europe and across the ocean to the Americas was as convenient as it was lucrative.

“How are you going to call if that fucker attacks you with his army down there?”

We were sprawled on our stomachs, looking through binoculars at the camp surrounded by barbed wire, where victims of all ages were being held captive.

“Enzo, I’m talking to you.”

“Not sure if you’ve heard of this thing called a satellite phone?”

I didn’t spare him a glance as I snapped photos of the men who were clearly in charge.

I loaded the images into an app I’d built, and one by one, their names flashed across the screen.

These were just minions, and what really interested me were the men and women they worked for or with in the past, and how they ended up at an organ trafficking organization.

“At least tell me your plan,” he demanded. When I remained silent, he let out a sigh. “Please tell me you have a plan.”

“I need to talk to Atticus,” I stated, my focus now on the men I’d profiled as I stored the information in the Cloud.

“Well, you’re bound to have a talk with him if you walk in there. But you’ll also die, so there’s that.” He put down his binoculars and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Does Aunt Athena know anything about this?” I shook my head. “How about our uncle?” When I didn’t answer, he added, “Father?”

“No, nobody, and you won’t mention it. Understood?”

“Bossy since you became the head of the family,” he grumbled. “Or should I say more bossy. Didn’t even think it possible…”

“I’m just trying to protect you and our family, Amadeo.”

“I can see that, which is why you can’t blame me for trying to do the same.”

For fuck’s sake, he was stubborn. A family trait.

I set my phone aside and turned to look at my brother. Same eyes, same dark hair. It was no surprise we were often mistaken for twins.

“Are you still mad at me for threatening Penelope?” he asked when I remained silent.

“You won’t do it again.” He nodded somberly. “Because if you do, I’ll tear you to pieces. Yes, I’ll put you back together, but after you hurt a bit.”

As if on cue, a message from my wife flashed across my phone screen.

Mia Anima: I miss you already.

My lips lifted into a smile.

Me: Miss you more. I’ll be home soon.

Mia Anima: I cooked.

Me: Without me?

Mia Anima: I didn’t burn the food, but I did forget to light the burner. I need my teacher back.

Before I could answer, she sent another text.

Mia Anima: And his boxers.

I chuckled.

Me: I promise, cooking in boxers is on the menu when I’m back.

I lifted my head and met my brother’s eyes. “You really like her, huh?”

“I do.” The answer was lame compared to what I actually felt for her.

I was so fucking in love with her that I was terrified she’d decide I was too crazy, too obsessed, too much everything, and leave.

I’d find her, of course, but I wanted her to choose me and stay with me willingly. Until death do us part.

“She seems to like you, too,” he remarked. “You’re still alive, so things must be going well.”

I nodded tersely. I couldn’t even begin to put into words how fucked up it felt to never trust a good thing when it was within reach. Would there ever come a time when I’d feel free from the burden I’d carried most of my life?

We watched each other silently, and something in my brother’s expression told me he understood—I just hoped he’d manage it better when it was his turn to settle down.

I often wondered how much he really remembered of the encounters with our mother, if the more violent ones haunted him in similar ways.

“She seriously fucked us up, didn’t she?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think of her?” His jaw tightened and bitterness passed his eyes. “I bet she’s laughing that maniacal laugh from her place in hell.”

“I don’t think about her.” Nor dream of her, thanks to my wife. “Not anymore.”

“I don’t either,” he said quietly. “Sometimes I just… remember.”

My chest twisted, realizing how badly I’d failed to protect him. “What do you remember?”

He shrugged. “She tried to kill you a couple of times.”

“She hurt both of us.” Fuck, that anguish on his face was gutting me alive. “She should have been put in a psych ward, not married away. None of it was our fault.”

“We haven’t talked things through with Father since he told us.” He tilted his head, thinking. “Though, I guess he isn’t really our father. He lied, Enzo.”

“He is our father,” I corrected him. “He raised us and stepped in when we had nobody else. The rest doesn’t matter. And this way, he protected our empire.”

“And that’s important,” he remarked sarcastically.

“It is, Amadeo. If he hadn’t, we’d be dead.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” He studied me, his eyes scrutinizing me for any sign that I wasn’t being truthful. He wouldn’t find any. “You’re different. It’s because of her, isn’t it?”

I nodded. “She’s good for me.”

“Pussy-whipped,” he snickered, but there was no bite to his words.

“I totally am, but it’s more than that.” And I wasn’t ashamed to admit it.

He rubbed his jaw, the stubble on it several days old. “Hmm, maybe I should get married too.”

I let out an amused breath. “It can’t hurt, fratello .”

Seemingly satisfied, he returned to look at the reason we were here just as a wretched scream pierced through the silence. Commotion followed, and I knew the horror that unfolded beyond that fence would trump any nightmare either of us had ever faced.

“So what’s your plan?” Amadeo asked again.

“I just want to scout the area. Get a sense of the guards’ routines, comings and goings.” A half-truth was better than an outright lie. “I need to understand what exactly I’m up against.”

“Duh, we have the entire Omertà on our side. Let’s call them in, the Kingpins too.” He tilted his chin in the direction of the camp. “The more the merrier when we take them down.”

“I’m not taking it down. I’m taking over.” The shock of my statement rendered him silent, throwing him off-balance. “Now, I really need you to leave and not look back.”

I didn’t have to wonder whether he would rat me out. Amadeo’s best and worst quality was his loyalty, and he was loyal to me above everyone else.