Page 117 of Possessive Sinner
"What thefuckis this?" he snarls, kicking a chair hard enough that it skids across the floor. "This is bullshit, and you all know it!"
He storms toward the door, fury rolling off him in waves. Pure. Explosive. Convincing. "Yeah, let's all just sit around andtalkwhile this asshole plays us, great plan!"
He yanks the door open. Stops. Turns back. "Fuck you," he snaps, pointing vaguely at all of us. "Fuck all of you."
The smile is gone now. Replaced by something sharp. Cold. Angry. And if you didn't know him, you'd believe every second of it. Then he storms out, slamming the door behind him. Silence follows. I hate it. But he was good. Convincingly so. Anyone watching for El Recaudador will eat that up and report back that there is a division. Exactly what we want him to see. From now on, when we meet with Damiano, we'll have to be careful not to appear as close as we were. Damiano put on one hell of an Oscar performance. It would suck to waste it.
I glance at Alessio. He exhales through his nose. I do the same. A shared, irritated acknowledgment. Then I turn first. No point staying. Not when my mind is already ten steps ahead. Not where Massimo wants me to be. For now. I walk out without another word. But one thing is already clear—orders or not—this isn't where I stop.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. Alessio's name pops up on the screen,Asshole 3. I reach for it, already sensing this isn't a casual call. "Yeah."
"You sound like shit," he accuses, not sounding much better.
I huff out a quiet breath. "Funny. I was about to say the same thing."
A short pause tells me he's still pissed. Not openly. Not loud. But I know him. I hear it in the way he breathes. In the way he doesn't bother with his usual sarcasm right away.
The MC. His mother. That whole mess. Yeah… that one's not going away anytime soon.
"We good?" I ask anyway.
A longer pause this time. Then, quieter, "Yeah."
Not convincing. But it's enough. We've been through worse.
"Why are you calling?" I get to the point.
"I just wanted to let you know…" he starts, tone shifting slightly, back to business. "Razor's still looking for your girl."
My body goes still, every muscle locking in place. "What?"
"He's got a hardon for her, like he's obsessed."
A dark, slow burn starts in my chest. Obsessed. Not that I can blame him. Audra has that effect on men.
"So you know this isn't going away," he adds.
No. It's not. I sit up slowly. My mind is already moving. Tracking. Planning. Adjusting. He's not getting near her again. Not even close.
"I'm going after him," I warn.
"No, you're not," Alessio shoots back just as fast. "This isn't just your problem."
"He's looking formywoman," I snap.
The words are out before I can stop them. They hang there. Heavy. Possessive. A beat of silence follows. Then?—
"…Yeah," Alessio says slowly. "I figured you'd say something like that."
I exhale sharply, dragging a hand down my face.
"Listen," he continues, in a more measured tone. "We don't move on Razor without coordination. Not with everything else going on."
Meaning Massimo. Meaning Salazar. Meaning the Collector. Everything is connected right now. Too connected. I know he's right. Doesn't mean I like it. A muscle in my jaw ticks.
"Fine," I grind out. "You don't touch him without me."
"Same goes for you," Alessio counters.
