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He hesitated for a moment, stopping me from hanging up. “She’s with a man.”
I gritted my teeth. I needed to know who that fucking man is.
As I finally approached the grand gates of the estate, I parked the car far enough not to be seen.
I took a picture of the guy’s license plate and sent it to one of my associates who works for the CPD, the Cebrene Police Department. Within a few minutes, I got a name to match the face.
Dion Loukas. Apparently, he’s part of the Vasilakis family. Motherfucker.
I watched as she looked around, sensing eyes on her, before she shook her head and stepped into her house.
I need to get rid of this Loukas asshole. Aria Kastellanos is mine.
10
DION
The rumble of my Ducati sends a surge of adrenaline through my body as I pull out of my garage. The concrete beneath my wheels rushes past as I lean into a sharp turn.
Navigating through the familiar streets of my neighborhood, I head toward our main warehouse in the Lower District of Old Cebrene.
The engine growls with each twist of the throttle, propelling me forward into the cool evening air. Yet, amidst the exhilaration, my mind keeps drifting back to smooth, blonde hair, soft moans in my ears, and a laugh I can’t get out of my head.
Ahead, the lights of the warehouse flicker into view, casting a glow against the darkening sky and bringing me back to the present.
As I approach the building, I slow down, pulling up to the entrance. The gates open with a metallic groan, allowing me access into the maze of shipping containers. The industrial surroundings are a stark contrast to the softness of Aria’s presence in my memories. I have to get the fuck over her. But how can I?
She left a mark on me. I took her virginity. She gave me a sacred part of herself, and the still fresh memory of her legs wrapped around my waist makes me want to punch a hole through a wall. I even found out where she does hot yoga and waited for her outside of the studio a few days ago. I had to see her. I needed to see her.
I park my bike in a secluded corner and remove my helmet, running a hand through my short hair.
When I make my way inside, I’m greeted by Leon, cigarette in hand.
“Kalispéra, afentikó.”
“Ti nea echís?”
“The crates arrived about an hour ago. The guys picked them up from the port earlier today. There are a couple missing.”
For fuck’s sake. We’ve been dealing with a slew of our containers going AWOL lately. It’s been driving me and Evander nuts trying to figure out who’s been stealing from us.
“I think you should see this,” Leon adds, pulling out a piece of paper from his pocket.
When he hands it to me, I unfold it and find a message scribbled in red ink.
I know who you are. Go near her again and you’ll get what’s coming to you.
Ti sto diáolo?
I stare at the piece of paper clenched tightly in my hand. It’s the second time in the past two weeks that I’ve received a threatening note. The first one made me raise a brow. It said: You think you’re untouchable, but everyone has a weakness.
I’d crumpled it up and tossed it aside, thinking it was just some petty gang shit. There’s always drama in the metropolis, and I’ve never been one to get involved.
But now, this one. Anger simmers beneath my skin as I reread the words scrawled across the paper.
“We found it in an empty crate. It was addressed to you,” Leon explains.
Who could this be? I assume the ‘her’ the message refers to is Aria.
