Page 23 of Ruined By Blood (Feretti Syndicate #2)

I hesitate at the foot of the stairs, caught between following Romano's orders and staying with Sienna.

"Go," Sienna says, meeting my eyes across the foyer. "I'm okay."

She's not okay. We both know it. But she's trying, and that matters more than anything else right now.

I turn and head up the stairs, Romano following close behind.

I make it to the top of the stairs, my teeth clenched against the burning pain in my side. Romano follows, his footsteps quick and determined behind me.

I reluctantly lead him to the nearest guest room, not wanting to trail blood through the entire upstairs. The moment I step inside, Romano drops his bag on the bed and points.

"Shirt off. Sit."

I comply with a grunt, peeling the blood-soaked fabric away from my skin. The wound stings as the material pulls free, fresh blood welling up immediately.

"See? Just a scratch," I say, examining the four-inch gash across my ribs. Not deep enough to hit anything vital, but deep enough to bleed like a motherfucker.

Romano snaps on latex gloves and bends to examine the wound, his fingers probing with clinical precision. I hiss when he hits a particularly tender spot.

"Hold still," he says, reaching for antiseptic from his bag. The liquid burns like fire when he applies it, but I don't flinch.

"I've had worse," I say, watching him work.

"That doesn't make you invincible." He cleans away more blood, revealing the full extent of the cut. After a thorough examination, he straightens up. "You're lucky. It's shallow. Missed everything important. A few stitches would be ideal, but?—"

"No stitches," I interrupt. "Just clean it and bandage it."

Romano sighs. "Fine. Butterfly closures will work, but it'll leave a nastier scar."

"Add it to the collection," I say.

He works quickly, applying adhesive strips to pull the wound closed before covering it with gauze and taping it securely.

"Change the dressing twice daily," he instructs. "Watch for infection. Heat, increased pain, redness spreading outward. And try not to tear it open again with any heroics."

I stand as soon as he finishes, testing the range of motion. It hurts, but it won't slow me down.

"We're done here," I tell him, reaching for a clean shirt from the dresser. "Go check on Sienna. She took a couple hits to the face."

Romano packs his supplies efficiently. "What about the head wound?" he asks, nodding toward my temple where dried blood has matted my hair.

"Just a graze from a pistol. Nothing broken," I say, touching it briefly. "Sienna's the priority."

"Always the tough guy," Romano mutters, but he picks up his bag. "I'll look in on her. You should rest, but I know you won't."

"Smart man." I pull the fresh shirt over my head, wincing slightly as the movement pulls at the bandaged wound.

The moment Romano leaves, I head for Damiano's room. We need to talk. The clock is ticking, and we need a more permanent solution than just reacting .

I pause outside Damiano's door, taking a deep breath to center myself. The rage still simmers under my skin, but I need a clear head now. Strategy, not emotion. But the image of Sienna crumpled on that floor, naked and terrified, makes my blood boil all over again.

I knock once, then push the door open.

I stride into Damiano's room, finding him standing by the window. He doesn't turn immediately, but I see the tension in his shoulders.

"How's your side?" he asks without looking at me.

"Fine." I dismiss his concern with a wave. "Nothing Romano couldn't patch up."

Damiano finally faces me, his eyes searching mine. "Do you know what we're dealing with here, Enzo? Really dealing with?"

The question hangs between us, heavy with implication.

"I think I do." My voice comes out rougher than intended. "Sterling's selling her to Cortez. That much we already knew. But it's worse than that."

I move to the leather chair near the fireplace and sink into it, the pain in my side flaring.

"The guy who was running the operation said some things.

He knew about something that Sienna hasn't told me until now.

And Cortez isn't just looking to buy her for a night.

From what he said, this is a permanent arrangement. A fucking ownership transfer."

"Human trafficking." Damiano names it plainly, his voice cold.

"His own daughter." I can't keep the disgust from my tone. "And she's been enduring this for years. Since she was fourteen, at least. That's what she told me."

I lean forward, ignoring the pull of the bandage. "But there's something else. Something she's not telling me. I think Sterling's been doing more than just selling her to Cortez or knowing that some men put their hands on her."

Damiano walks to his desk, his movements measured and controlled—the calm before a storm. "And now we've interfered with his business. Not just any business, but human trafficking. His own flesh and blood."

"He'll come for her," I say, stating the obvious. "And he'll come hard."

"We knew that when we brought her here." Damiano's voice is resolute. "But we should be clear about what we're getting into. This isn't just about protecting a woman who got beaten on our territory anymore. This is declaring war on Sterling."

I meet his gaze without hesitation. "I know."

"Are you prepared for that? For what it means for all of us?" He's not just asking as my brother now, but as the head of our family. As Don.

The image of Sienna's tears flashes through my mind.

"Yes." There's no doubt in my answer. "He's not getting her back. Not while I'm breathing."

Damiano steps behind his desk, shoulders set in that familiar stance—the Don, not just my brother—as he studies me with calculating eyes.

"You should know," he says, his voice dangerously calm, "we're officially at war with Henry Sterling now."

I nod once, accepting this as fact rather than revelation. "Good."

"Good?" Damiano raises an eyebrow. "We're talking about a man with international connections, government officials in his pocket, and a reputation for destroying anyone who crosses him."

"I'm aware." My voice comes out like gravel. "And I don't give a fuck. "

Damiano watches me for a long moment before the corner of his mouth twitches. "I saw how you handled Jackson," he says. "What you did to him after he hit her..."

I don't respond. We both know what I did. The sound of bones breaking under my hands. The blood. The promises I whispered in his ear before I sent him to a far worse fate than quick death.

"That's when I knew," Damiano continues. "Sienna's family now."

Something shifts in my chest at his words. Not surprise—I'd already decided to protect her with everything I have—but the weight of his acknowledgment solidifies something I hadn't fully articulated, even to myself.

"She is," I say, the words feeling right as they leave my mouth. "And I will have blood for what was done to her. Sterling's blood."

Damiano nods, accepting this as both declaration and promise.

"Once she tells us the full truth, we'll plan our next moves," he says. "I've already increased security at all properties. Alessio's mapping Sterling's holdings and movements."

I stand, ignoring the pain shooting through my side. "How the hell did you know we were under attack? Your timing was..." I shake my head, remembering the moment they burst through the door. "If you hadn't shown up when you did..."

Damiano's expression hardens. "After what happened to Lucrezia, I had the system installed. Silent alarm that pings directly to my phone if any exterior doors or windows are breached at any of our properties."

"Fuck." I run a hand through my hair .

"I tried calling you first," he says, accusation edging into his tone. "Multiple times. You didn't answer."

I think back, remembering the buzzing of my phone while I was researching Sterling's background. "I was tracking Sterling's movements online. When it started ringing, I figured it was Noah with updates."

"Next time, answer your fucking phone," Damiano says, but there's no real heat behind it. He knows better than anyone how I operate when I'm focused.

"If there's a next time, I won't need the rescue," I promise darkly. "I underestimated Sterling. It won't happen again."

Damiano circles his desk, coming to stand directly in front of me. He places a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm.

"We'll end this," he says with quiet certainty. "But we do it smart. Together. You, me, the whole family."

I nod, grateful for his calculated approach to balance my rage.

"For now, we keep Sienna close," he continues. "Protected. And once she's ready to tell us everything..."

"Then we burn Sterling's empire to the ground," I finish.

Damiano's mouth curves into a cold smile I recognize well—it mirrors my own.

"Starting with whatever he values most."