Page 35 of Possessive Sinner
"Out," he says. His voice is rough. Flat. Like this is just another Tuesday for him.
I open the door. Warm night air rushes in. For a moment, I don't move. Not because I'm refusing. But because something strange is happening inside me. The fear is still there. Huge. Crushing. But underneath it, something else is waking up. Something sharp. My senses feel… louder. I hear the buzz of a broken streetlight. The distant rumble of a truck on the highway. The slow, steady breathing of the man beside me. Even the smell of oil and metal in the air feels stronger. Like my bodyhas decided panic isn't useful, so it's choosing something else. Survival.
I step out of the car. The gravel crunches under my shoes. The warehouse looms in front of me like the mouth of a cave. Dark. Waiting. A thought slips through my mind, almost calm. If Pete is here… I need to be strong. Because whatever happens next… I know Pete is not going to save me.
The wedding is loud.Too loud. Music spills across the terrace, mixing with laughter and the clinking of glasses. Lights shimmer over the pool, and the city glows beyond the railing like a sea of neon.
Massimo stands at the center of it all, Jenna at his side, Amauri orbiting them like a proud little planet. The man looks… happy. It suits him. Still strange as hell to see.
All around me, couples move through the crowd. Hands touching. Bodies leaning into each other. The New York family showed up in force. Some of them were invited as a courtesy for helping Massimo get his kid back. Others because Enzo's lost family has married into it.
Men that I don't know shake my hand. Women smile politely. Someone offers me another drink. I take it. The whiskey burns going down, but the ache in my chest doesn't move. Strangething. I've never had it before. I've always been fine alone. More than fine. Freedom has its perks. No one asks questions. No one needs explanations. No one depends on you when things go bad.
I've had women. Plenty. But nothing serious. Catarina used to tease me about it. The thought of my sister still sits like a blade under my ribs. That pain is familiar. Old. Permanent. But that's not what this is tonight. Tonight it's something else. I lean against the balcony railing and watch the party from the shadows.
The ache spreads a little deeper. Because every time I see a couple laughing together, my brain says the same thing. One word: Audra.
Fuck.
I want that woman like I've never wanted anything in my life. Not the way men want women. Not just that. Something worse. Something permanent. My hand tightens around the glass. The temptation slides through my head again. Simple. Efficient. Pete disappears. Car accident. Robbery gone wrong.
Vegas swallows people every day. No one would question it. Audra would grieve. Of course she would. But grief fades… and when it did… I'd be there. The man who helps her rebuild. The man who protects her. The man who gives her the life she deserves. Something ugly coils in my chest. Because the truth is even uglier than that. The thought of killing Pete doesn't bother me.
Not really. Men die every day in my world. But hurting her… that's the problem.
Audra loves him. I've seen it. He makes her feel safe. For some God-forsaken reason, that matters to me. Which is a dangerous weakness. I stare out across the glowing city. Vegas hums beneath us. A kingdom built on sin.
I take another slow drink. One day… one day I might stop caring about that weakness. And when that happens, God help Pete.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. A single notification. Movement detected. Ah, it's around seven. She worked late today. I've set the phone to notify me anytime she moves faster than twenty miles an hour, so I know she's driving. I pull the phone out immediately and open the tracker hidden in that stupid purse. The little blinking dot is moving. Good.
I could use a little Audra fix right about now. I switch to the camera feed in her car and frown. Empty. Strange. I flip to Pete's car. Also empty.
Now my pulse starts to pick up. That's wrong. Audra never goes anywhere without one of those two cars. I open the next camera. Her house. The living room feed flickers to life. Her mother, Stacy Conner, is there. She stands in the middle of the room, clutching her chest, pacing like a trapped animal. Her mouth moves rapidly. A phone is pressed to her ear. I turn the volume up—thank fuck I broke down and had audio installed just a couple of days ago—drowning out the music from the party behind me.
"…I'm telling you someone took her!" she cries. "I heard it on the phone! She screamed—then nothing!"
My blood runs cold.
"No! You listen to me! Someone took my daughter!"
Fuck. Someone took Audra.
"Gabriel?"
Damiano appears beside me, holding out a glass. "Hey, you stalking again?"
I don't answer. My face goes still. Cold. Controlled. The way it does before someone dies. Damiano's grin fades slightly. "What?"
I lower the phone. "Someone took Audra."
For a second, he just stares at me. Then the slowest grin spreads across his face. "Well," he drawls, setting the glass aside, already rolling his sleeves back, "let's go."
He glances toward the dance floor where the wedding party is still in full swing. "The party was getting boring anyway."
I'm already moving toward the exit. Damiano grabs Alessio on the way to the elevator and yells toward Enzo, "Someone took his girl. We're getting her back."
Whoever took her just made a deadly mistake; he has no idea what they've started.
