Page 82 of Wicked Truths
“I know.” Milly’s expression softens. “She’s my sister. I’d do anything for her.”
For a moment, I see the good heart beneath all that attitude, and I’m grateful.
“Call me if anything changes. Anything at all,” I tell her as I answer my call.
I pace to the door of Amara’s room, phone pressed to my ear, rage burning through my veins as I listen. Every muscle in my body is coiled tight, ready to unleash violence on whoever took my son.
“Where?” I demand into the phone. My free hand balls into a fist. “How long has he been there?”
“We have eyes on him. He’s alive, but looks roughed up. Three guards that we can see,” Romeo Conti tells me as I make my way to my office. “Con and I are leaving in twenty minutes. As soon as the helicopters are here.”
Inside my office, I stop at the window, staring out at the ocean. The same view Amara loves to look at when she floats in the pool. Thinking of her lying upstairs, broken and confused, makes my blood boil hotter. But I need to be there for my son too.
“Wait for me. No one touches him until I get there,” I order. “I want whoever did this alive. They have questions to answer.”
“Understood.”
I end the call and turn back toward Amara’s room. I hate having to leave her like this, especially with Helena on her way, who’ll no doubt taint her thoughts and make her believe her lies. But I’ll deal with her later.
When I step back into Amara’s room, she’s watching me with those wide blue eyes. Even with half her face bruised and swollen, she’s beautiful.
Something twists in my chest—a feeling I’ve been fighting for too long.
“I need to leave,” I tell her, keeping my voice gentle.
“Why? What’s happening?” Panic flashes across her face, and I hate being the cause of it.
“My son has been located.”
She blinks, confusion evident in her expression. “Your son?”
“Rafe.” I move closer to her bed, fighting the urge to touch her face. “He was kidnapped the night you were hurt.”
“Kidnapped? By whom?” Her voice is small, frightened.
My jaw tightens. “By people who are going to wish they were never born.”
I see her shiver at my words, at the coldness in my voice. Good. She should understand what I’m capable of—what I’ll do to protect what’s mine. And whether she remembers it or not, she is mine.
“Were they the same people who tried to hurt me?” she asks quietly.
I pause at the door, my hand on the knob. “That’s what I intend to find out.”
Her shoulders drop as my phone vibrates in my pocket.
I check the caller. Luigi, my driver. “Yes, Luigi.”
“The car is ready, sir. Waiting at the front entrance.”
“On my way.”
I take the stairs quickly, my mind shifting gears. By the time I slide into the back seat of the Bentley, I’m already dialing Antonio Conti.
“De Luca,” his gruff voice answers. “About time.”
“Romeo called me. What information do you have?”
“Our intel says Rafe is being held at a warehouse just over the New South Wales border. My men spotted movement there an hour ago.”
