Page 48 of Beautiful Ruins
What a stupid word.
A sharp knock sounded on the door.Tone walked in without waiting, her face drawn tight with the kind of guilt that made people stubborn.
I didn’t look at her.“This is on me.”
Tone shut the door.“No.”
I finally lifted my head.“I let her go.”
“You let her go because I pushed you.Because I told you it was the right thing to do.So don’t you dare stand there and hoard all the blame like it’s yours to own.”
That made something twist.“I’m her captor,” I bit out.“I dragged her into my world, and then I dropped her back into hers like it was safe to do so.”
Tone’s eyes flashed.“You couldn’t have known.”
I laughed once, ugly and short.“I never should have let her leave.”
Tone leaned against the desk, arms folded, her voice lower now.“You didn’t know.I didn’t know.And now she’s hurt, and we both have to live with that.”
She wore the guilt like a talisman—like if she held it close enough, it would prevent the worst from happening again.
My jaw tightened.“I want names.”
Tone nodded once.“Then get them.But don’t go in there and make her feel like she’s a problem.”
I didn’t answer.
Because she wasn’t a problem.
She was a person who’d been punished for loving the wrong man.And I was going to return that pain to the men who’d delivered it.
By the time Tone went back to sit with Izzy, I had men in cars heading for every haunt Nathan Azzopardi ever crawled through—every bar, every backroom, every cracked apartment where small-time dealers liked to feel important.I sent them to the clubs the Nato boys frequented too, not because I thought Navarro Nato had broken his word, but because I needed confirmation.
And because I needed blood in motion.
My head of security gave me updates in clipped bursts.
There was no sign of Nathan.No sighting.No whispers.No burner pings.He’d vanished.Either he was dead, or he was hiding like a coward.Either way, he’d lit a match and walked away from the fire he started.
That left me with the men who’d come to collect.
I sat at my desk, stared at my phone, and made the call.
Navarro Nato answered on the second ring, like he’d been expecting my call.
“Cavalho,” he greeted me.Calm.Assured.Almost amused.“I assume this isn’t a social check-in.”
“Tonight, someone put hands on a girl under my protection.Nathan Azzopardi’s girlfriend.”
He paused for a moment, and I couldn’t tell whether he was surprised or simply calculating his response.
“That’s unfortunate,” Navarro’s tone was careful.
“It’s more than unfortunate,” I countered.“I want a meeting.”
Silence again.Then a low breath.“Where?”
16
