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My comment draws a chuckle from some of the men, but then Damiano grumbles, “I already have your family. If you hurry, you can watch me kill them.”
He ends the call, then rises to his full height, his dark eyes locking with mine. “Find anything?”
I shake my head. “Nothing we can use. You?”
“Just spoke to Miguel. He claims his men didn’t take your woman, and another group that’s operating in Brownsville is responsible.”
His eyes flick to Bella, and I’m surprised when he pets her head.
Letting out a sigh, he carries on talking. “It doesn’t matter which group took her. By now, they could’ve sold her to get the money owed to them. It’s either that or she’ll be forced to work the debt off.”
My frustration and worry spike, and I snap, “We know that already.”
Suddenly the alarm on my phone sounds, and I quickly look at the screen. Seeing there’s been a match for Eden on a camera, I turn around and run back up the stairs. Bursting into my office, I grab a seat and enter the alert. It’s a clear image of Eden crossing a road.
Christ.
My woman’s alive.
Everything inside me stills as I stare at her terrified face.
It registers that she’s in underwear and barefoot.
In the fucking cold.
I suck in a harsh breath as I keep staring at her, then all at once, every destructive emotion I’ve felt since she was taken floods back.
A roar is torn from my chest as I shoot to my feet. Grabbing the chair, I throw the fucking thing against the wall.
The other men come rushing one by one into the office.
Renzo grabs my shoulder as I turn back to my system, and when my eyes land on the photo of Eden again, out in the fucking freezing cold wearing only underwear, the need to destroy everything overwhelms me.
Franco darts in front of me before I can get to the system.
“Breaking shit isn’t going to help,” he says. “Deep breaths.”
“You have proof she’s alive,” Renzo adds.
“Dario,” Damiano’s voice lashes through the air.
I suck in heavy breaths as the rage calms enough for me to think straight.
“Track that photo,” Damiano orders.
Franco gives me a cautious look as he moves out of my way.
“I’m okay,” I manage to breathe before I step closer to the desk and bring up a map of the area where the photo was taken.
Queens come up, and then it zeroes in on a crossing in Jamaica.
“She’s only thirty minutes away,” I mutter in disbelief.
She’s been right here all along and not at fucking sea.
The other four come closer to the monitors, and I bring the map up on the largest screen so we can see it clearly.
“How long has it been since the alert came through?” Damiano asks.
