Page 27 of Thorns of Death

Without delay, I dismissed Giulio. He was the guy in charge of cybersecurity and made sure every message coming in and out of my network was coded. I’d even gone so far as to test it with Illias Konstantin and Nico Morrelli. Neither one of the men were able to decode it. That was when I knew our network was secured, with Manuel and I being the only two who owned the passwords. Not even Giulio could access it, and he was the one who’d designed it.

“What took you so long?” I grumbled. I usually received information back in a day. It had been seven fucking days.

Manuel held out a folder that looked suspiciously thin and dropped into the chair across from my desk while I looked over the file.Isla Evans:Mother unknown.Father unknown.Raised by a relative—again,unknown. My brows furrowed as I skimmed through the pages that told me nothing.

“This cannot be all,” I muttered, staring at the photos. The pictures portrayed a petite woman with a beautiful smile and wild ginger hair. But it was the mischief and quiet strength in her emerald gaze that pulled my attention.

Manuel shrugged. “I thought so too. Or maybe there isn’t much to the girl.”

There was so much to the girl that it threatened to steal my breath. So yeah, that comment made no fucking sense. Manuel had to be blind and deaf not to see there was so much more to her.

So I shook my head. “There has to be more,” I hissed, shuffling through the photos and information. “She’s friends with Reina and Phoenix Romero. Why isn’t that in the file?”

“I don’t know. We ran checks from all angles. Our contact even made it inside their apartment and snapped a few photographs.”

My eyes darted through the photos until I locked on one and I froze.

“It can’t be,” I muttered. “No fucking way.”

The photograph in my hand was taken inside Isla’s apartment. I narrowed my eyes, bringing it closer.No, it couldn’t be.Although it sure as shit looked like it. In my hands I held the photo of a frame that sat on Isla’s bedside table.

In it, Isla stood holding a violin… between Maxim and Illias Konstantin. Barely reaching their chests, her grin was free and the happiness on her face was evident. Maybe the Konstantins were her sponsors. Albeit, it’d make it a small, very fucked-up world.

“What is it?”

I opened my drawer and dug around until I felt what I was looking for. “Check the frame in the photo,” I told him, handing him the photograph and the magnifying glass. “Bottom right corner.”

It took exactly four seconds for his eyes to widen. He met my gaze, and neither one of us uttered a word. The silence between us spoke volumes. There had been rumors circulating for decades that the Konstantin brothers had a sister. But it was always just that—a rumor.

Until now.

“Do you think Illias Konstantin is making a play at her?” he questioned, handing me the photo back. “Or is that his woman? She looks way too young for him, but if he groomed her from an early age, I’d say he’s fucked up like his father.”

I shook my head.

“No, that man is playing at Tatiana Nikolaev. He was ready to go to war if I didn’t let her live.” And from what I knew about Illias, he was nothing like his father. I’d stake my life on it. "I’ve known Illias for years, he’s part of the Omertà for fuck’s sake. How did he manage to keep this from us all?”

Manuel scoffed. “Everyone in Omertà has secrets. Big ones.” He looked at me pointedly, referring to the one we shared.

“I want everything dug up on these two,” I barked, annoyed that Isla had a connection to the Pakhan. It was an obstacle I didn’t need. “Maybe the blackmail messages we’ve all been getting revolve around this girl.”

“Or maybe he’s using this girl to get to you.” Manuel was suspicious of everyone outside our small circle. Just as I was. But I had good instincts, and they told me that wasn’t the case. All of us in the Omertà had been getting scripted messages, threatening to expose us. Ultimately, we all had secrets that we’d kill to keep exactly that. Secrets.

Illias was the Pakhan for good reason. He was whip-smart and powerful, and he didn’t need to use anyone to get to me. If that was what he wanted, he would come after me head-on. No, there was something else at play here.

Besides, Isla had written me off when she learned of Donatella. If she was trying to get close to me, that wouldn’t have mattered to her.

“So he raised her and then sent her into the lion’s den?” I asked in a dry tone. That theory didn’t make any sense, even if it explained why we couldn’t find anything on Isla. Konstantin would know how to hide someone, and he was surely hiding Isla Evans. “I don’t think so. She refused to have anything to do with me when I saw her again.”

Manuel’s lips tugged. “I admit, it’s unusual to see a woman refuse you. I’m enjoying it.”

“Is that jealousy I hear?” I snapped dryly. He was right, women never refused me, but it was the same with Manuel. He was forever a bachelor, sticking to short affairs with some of the most beautiful women in the world. “And I assure you,vecchio, I’d enjoy breaking your fingers.”

He chuckled, completely unperturbed. “Why would I be jealous? I certainly don’t want to experience a woman refusing me.”

Wiseass.

“I know you’re used to it, old man,” I mocked, lowering my eyes back to one of the photographs of Isla Evans sitting in a folder on my desk. It was taken in the early days of her career. Jesus, she was young. Too young for me. It didn’t stop me from wanting her though. To hell with age, I didn’t give a shit who her connections were and who protected her, she’d be mine.