Page 26 of Ruined By Blood (Feretti Syndicate #2)

I stroke Sienna's hair as she curls against me, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of her confession. The weight of what she's told me sits like lead in my chest—heavier than any bulletproof vest, more painful than any knife wound.

"You need to rest, piccola," I murmur, my voice rougher than I intended. "Your body needs to recover."

She looks up at me with those ice-blue eyes, the same shade as mine but worlds apart in what they've witnessed. Where mine have seen violence I chose, hers have endured horrors forced upon her.

"Will you stay?" The question comes out barely above a whisper, like she's afraid to ask for anything, even this small comfort.

"Until you fall asleep." I shift her gently on the bed, careful of her bruises. "I'm not going anywhere."

I settle beside her, my back against the headboard, one hand continuing to stroke her hair. The steady rhythm seems to calm her. Her breathing gradually evens out, though occasionally a small tremor runs through her body—the physical memory of trauma that won't release its grip easily.

Minutes pass in silence. I watch her face relax in increments, the furrow between her brows slowly smoothing out. She fights sleep at first, her eyes fluttering open to check that I'm still there before closing again.

"I've got you," I whisper, more to myself than to her.

Eventually her breathing deepens, her body growing heavier against me. Once I'm certain she's truly asleep, I carefully extract myself from the bed, making sure not to jostle her. I adjust the blankets around her shoulders before stepping back to look at her.

In sleep, the hard edges of fear and vigilance soften from her face. She looks younger, more like the innocent she should have been allowed to remain. Something cracks open in my chest, raw and painful.

I quietly leave the room, pulling the door closed with a gentle click. My footsteps echo down the hallway as I make my way to the kitchen, my mind already mapping out the next steps to keep her safe and fed.

The kitchen is warm and fragrant when I push through the swinging door. Ettore stands at the counter, chopping vegetables with practiced precision, his movements quick and sure despite his advancing years. The family cook looks up at my entrance, his knife pausing mid-slice .

"Enzo," he greets me, eyes sharp and assessing. "You look ready to murder someone."

"I am."

Ettore nods, resuming his chopping without missing a beat. He's been with the family long enough to know when not to ask questions. The steady rhythm of his knife against the cutting board fills the silence.

"Sienna," I say after a moment, leaning against the counter. "She needs food. Something easy on the stomach. Simple, nothing too rich."

Ettore nods, already shifting gears mentally, his experienced mind no doubt cycling through appropriate dishes. "I'll make something light. Broth, some fresh bread. Maybe a little pastina if she can handle it."

"Good." I straighten up, rolling my shoulders to ease the tension. "When it's ready, let me know. I want to bring it up myself."

"Of course." Ettore studies me for a moment, his gaze too knowing for comfort. "You care about this one."

It's not a question, so I don't answer. Instead, I turn to leave, pausing at the doorway.

"Make enough for two."

My feet carry me automatically to Damiano's office. When I push the door open, I find exactly what I expected: a war council waiting for me.

Damiano sits behind his massive desk, fingers steepled in front of him.

Zoe stands beside him, one hand resting protectively on her small baby bump.

Alessio leans against the wall, arms crossed, looking like the human weapon he is.

And Lucrezia—my heart aches seeing her there, perched on the edge of a chair, looking both fragile and determined.

"She's sleeping," I announce, closing the door behind me .

Four pairs of eyes track my movements as I cross to the empty chair in front of Damiano's desk. I drop into it, feeling every one of my thirty-four years pressing down on me.

"Tell us," Damiano says simply.

The room falls silent, waiting.

"Sterling's been selling her since she was fourteen." The words taste like acid in my mouth. "His own fucking daughter."

Zoe's sharp intake of breath cuts through the silence. Lucrezia's eyes close briefly, pain flashing across her features.

"It started with business associates. Favors for men who could help Sterling expand his empire." I stare at my hands, imagining them around Sterling's throat. "The first one was the man at the bar."

Alessio mutters something in Italian that would make a priest blush.

"Her mother tried to protect her." I continue, my voice hardening. "Sterling beat her so badly she needed hospitalization. Used her as an example of what would happen if Sienna didn't cooperate."

Damiano's jaw clenches, a muscle ticking beneath his skin. "And Cortez?"

"Sterling's been working on a shipping deal with the cartel. Sienna was part of the payment—a living, breathing fucking bonus gift to seal the deal." My fingers curl into fists. "She was supposed to be Cortez's new plaything."

Lucrezia stands suddenly, moving to the window. Her back is to us, but I can see the tension in her shoulders. This hits too close to home for her.

"Fucking bastard," Alessio spits.

"Human trafficking is one line our family has never crossed," Damiano says, his voice carrying that quiet intensity that makes even hardened criminals listen. "We've been working to shut down those operations in our territory for years."

"I know." The Feretti family has its hands in plenty of illegal businesses, but some things are beyond acceptable even in our world. Some monsters wear expensive suits and operate in boardrooms instead of back alleys.

"Sterling's been careful, building his network right under everyone's noses. Using legitimate shipping businesses as cover." Damiano rubs his jaw. "We've suspected something, but never had proof until now."

I lean forward, my voice dropping low. "I want him dead, Damiano. Him and every single man who's touched her. I want to be the one to do it."

"Get in line," Alessio mutters from his position against the wall.

Lucrezia turns from the window, her face pale but determined. "Killing them isn't enough."

We all look at her, surprised by the steel in her voice. Since the attack, she rarely offers opinions during these discussions.

"They need to suffer first," she continues quietly. "They need to understand exactly what they've done before they die."

Zoe moves to stand beside her, offering silent support.

"And Sterling's empire needs to be dismantled completely.

Not just him, but every single person who helped him, who looked the other way.

" Her hand rests protectively on her stomach.

"I can help with that part. Financial destruction leaves trails we can use to find every accomplice. "

Damiano looks at his wife with a mixture of pride and concern. Even pregnant, she's still the strategic mind she's always been.

"We need to be smart about this," Alessio pushes himself off the wall, all business now. "Sterling has connections everywhere. And Cortez's cartel isn't something to take lightly. We need a solid plan, not just blind revenge."

"Agreed," Damiano nods. "We start by gathering everything we have on both of them. Every business connection, every property, every vulnerable point."