Page 20 of Ruined By Blood (Feretti Syndicate #2)

I stare at the ceiling, fighting the urge to follow Sienna upstairs. The taste of her lips lingers, sweeter than any liquor I've ever had. With each kiss, her hesitation melted away, replaced by something eager and curious that made my blood run hot.

"Fuck," I mutter, dragging a hand down my face.

I shouldn't want her like this.

I fish my phone from my pocket, noticing three missed calls from Damiano and four from Noah. Shit. I'd silenced it during our game.

I push myself off the couch and head to the kitchen before returning the call. The last thing I need is for Sienna to overhear something that might frighten her .

Damiano answers on the first ring. "About fucking time."

"What's happened?" I keep my voice low, leaning against the counter.

"Sterling reached out this morning." Damiano's tone carries the weight of bad news. "Someone spotted you putting his daughter in your car outside the casino. He called asking if we knew anything about where she might be."

Ice slides down my spine. "What did you tell him?"

"That we don't make a habit of kidnapping women, and if he lost his daughter, perhaps he should ask himself why she ran."

I close my eyes. "And?"

"And he didn't appreciate my suggestion." There's a pause. "He's getting desperate, Enzo. He knows you took her."

"He doesn't know for certain," I cut in. "And we're secure here."

"Maybe. But your cabin isn't exactly Fort Knox if he brings enough firepower."

I push off from the counter, tension coiling through my muscles. "I'll call Noah, see what he's uncovered about Sterling's movements."

"Do that," Damiano says.

I immediately dial Noah's number, pacing the kitchen floor while I wait. Each ring stretches my patience thinner.

"Took you long enough," Noah answers, his deep voice lined with irritation. "I've been trying to reach you for hours."

"I was occupied. What do you have?"

"Sterling's got all his men looking for his daughter. He's not being subtle about it either—threw a desk through his office window when someone suggested she might have run away voluntarily."

"Any indication he knows she's with us specifically?"

"Nothing concrete. But there's chatter that he questioned the guard who saw you getting her in the car. Guy went missing yesterday afternoon."

"Fuck." I run a hand through my hair. "What about Cortez?"

"He came back to town, staying at The Continental. He's been meeting with Sterling daily, and doesn't look happy about the delay. My guy inside says Cortez has scheduled a flight back to Mexico for Sunday. If Sterling doesn't produce the girl by then, whatever deal they had is dead."

Four days. We have four days before Cortez leaves—four days before Sterling has nothing left to lose.

"Keep eyes on both of them," I tell Noah. "I want to know if Sterling makes any moves toward this area."

"Already done. I've got men watching the main roads, and Matteo's setting up surveillance on Sterling's estate. How's the girl?"

The question catches me off guard. Noah isn't exactly known for his concern for others. "She's... recovering."

"Didn't ask about her medical condition," Noah says, a knowing edge to his voice. "You getting attached, Feretti?"

"Focus on Sterling," I snap. "Call me if anything changes."

I end the call before he can respond. Noah's question hit closer than I'd like to admit. Am I getting attached? The memory of Sienna's lips against mine, the way her eyes flashed with something like wonder when I touched her cheek?—

Dangerous thoughts. Ones that will get us both killed if I don't keep my head clear .

I look at my phone and pull up Instagram, searching for "Sienna Sterling." Nothing appears except accounts belonging to women with similar names—none matching her face. I try Facebook, Twitter, even LinkedIn. Nothing. No digital footprint at all.

Most people her age live their lives online. But Sienna? It's like she doesn't exist outside her father's shadow. No wonder she's been so easy for him to control. He's kept her completely isolated from the world.

I wonder if he forbade her from having accounts, or if she simply never had the freedom to create them.

I switch tactics, searching for Henry Sterling instead.

His public profile appears immediately—a carefully curated image of a successful businessman.

Photos at charity galas, business conferences, political fundraisers.

In some, there's a young woman beside him, always slightly behind, always wearing a practiced smile that never reaches her eyes.

Sienna.

I zoom in on one image from a charity ball six months ago. She's wearing a silver dress, standing just behind Sterling's shoulder, looking like a perfect accessory. The photographer caught her in a rare unguarded moment—her eyes distant, hollow. A beautiful doll with nothing inside.

My fingers tighten around the phone until I hear the case crack.

Taking a deep breath, I exit the app and open my messages, scrolling until I find Lucrezia's name. Despite everything happening, I need to check on her too.

How are you doing today? I type.

Her response comes quickly.

Fine. You don't need to check on me every day, you know.

I smile slightly, picturing her annoyed expression. Did you eat today ?

Yes, Ettore made pasta. Stop mothering me.

I hesitate, then type: Have you been in your studio at all?

The response takes longer this time. Three dots appear and disappear twice before her message comes through.

Not yet. But I've been thinking about it.

That's something, at least. Better than last week when she threw her sketchbook across the room when Zoe suggested she try drawing.

That's good, Luce. No pressure. Just wondering.

What about you? How's Sienna?

I glance toward the stairs, wondering if she's still awake or if she's fallen asleep thinking about our kisses. The thought sends heat through my veins.

She's safe, I type, keeping it simple.

That's not what I asked. How IS she?

Better, I think. Talking more. Told me some of what happened to her.

And? Lucrezia prompts.

And I want to kill every man who ever touched her, starting with her father.

Join the club. But that's not what she needs right now.

I frown at the screen. What do you mean?

She doesn't need another man making choices for her, even if it's about punishing those who hurt her. She needs to reclaim her power.

I stare at Lucrezia's words, letting them sink in. She's right, of course. What good is my rage if it doesn't help Sienna heal?

When did you get so wise? I type.

I've been in self-therapy for three months. You pick things up.

Her reply makes me smile despite everything. Fair enough. Going to bed ?

Soon. Don't worry about me. Focus on keeping her safe.

I will. Love you, Luce.

Love you too. Even when you're annoying.

I set my phone down, thinking about what Lucrezia said. Sienna doesn't need my vengeance. She needs to reclaim her power. The question is, how do I help her do that while keeping her safe from Sterling?

I 'm in the shower after a nap that made me wake up in sweat.

I close my eyes and let my forehead rest against the cool tile, steam swirling around me like a protective cocoon.

For these few precious moments, I can almost forget everything—my father, the danger, the confusing feelings I have for Enzo.

The kisses we shared replay in my mind. The gentleness of his touch surprises me still. His fingers on my cheek felt reverent, nothing like the grabbing hands I've endured before.

I'm reaching for the shampoo when a sharp crack cuts through the peaceful hum of running water.

Gunfire.

My heart stops. I freeze, water running down my face, suddenly unable to move. Before I can react the bathroom door splinters open.

A man in black tactical gear storms in. His face is covered, but his eyes are cold as they sweep over my naked body.

"Found her!" he barks into a radio.

I try to cover myself, but he grabs my arm with bruising force, yanking me out of the shower. My feet slip on the wet tile as I struggle against his grip.

"Let me go!" I scream, fighting to break free. "Enzo!"

Water drips down my body as the man drags me through the cabin. My heart hammers against my ribs, panic clawing up my throat. I twist and pull, but his fingers dig deeper into my arm.

He shoves me into the living room, and my blood turns to ice.

Enzo kneels on the floor, hands bound behind his back. Blood streaks down his temple from a gash near his hairline. Two armed men stand beside him, weapons trained on his head.

Enzo's eyes flash with murderous rage when he sees me. "Put some fucking clothes on her," he snarls, straining against his restraints. "Now!"

The man holding me laughs. "Shut the fuck up."

"I'll kill you," Enzo says, his voice dropping to that deadly quiet I recognize now. There's no bluster, just cold certainty. "I will take you apart piece by piece if you don't cover her up right now."

He shoves me toward a chair and tosses me a towel he was holding. My hands shake violently as I try to wrap it around myself. Water from my hair runs down my back, making me shiver—or maybe that's the fear.

"Who sent you?" Enzo demands, eyes never leaving my face.

My throat closes as I realize—my father found us. Somehow, he found us .

"You know who," the lead man says, removing his mask to reveal a face I recognize. Jackson. One of my father's security team. "Mr. Sterling wants his daughter back."

"She's not his property," Enzo says through clenched teeth.

Jackson laughs. "Tell that to Cortez. He's paid a deposit already."

Shame burns through me. Even now, naked and terrified, I'm just merchandise to them—a transaction, a business deal. I curl into myself, trying to disappear.

"Look at me, Sienna," Enzo says suddenly.

I force my eyes up to meet his. Despite the blood on his face, despite being bound and surrounded by armed men, his gaze is steady and certain.