Page 124 of Power & Punishment

“He’s expecting me to bring backup, so I go in alone.”

“Absolutely not,” Michael growls.

“You said it yourself. He wants me vulnerable and desperate, and that’s exactly what I’m going to give him.”

“And while he’s focused on you, we get Mia and Keith out,” Dante says, finishing my thought.

“Exactly.”

And then I turn to Michael and say, “Your priority is saving Mia. I can take care of myself.”

He opens his mouth to argue but quickly clamps it shut after scanning my face.

“Got it?” I ask, waiting for him to give me verbal confirmation.

“Yes,” he says, slowly swiveling his neck to survey the mess that was created when Adrian’s men kidnapped Mia and Keith. “Wait.”

“What now?” Dante asks, his footsteps approaching from behind.

Michael ignores his question and moves toward the evidence board in the middle of the room. Papers are scattered across the floor, and there’s a chair lying on its side that must’ve gotten overturned during the struggle. There’s also a bullet hole carved into the far wall mocking me.

I dig my fingernails into my thighs.

I know she wouldn’t have gone down without a fight. I picture all the times she fought me and never backed down. Not once. Even when I desperately wanted her to.

My girl is a fighter and she will survive this.

My eyes trail after Michael as he crouches beside a laptop that’s been thrown on the concrete. The screen is cracked and glitching in some places, but still glowing.

“They didn’t take it?” I ask, scratching the back of my neck.

“They were probably in a hurry,” Michael guesses. He picks up the device and moves toward the table. He grabs the discarded chair and goes to work trying to revive it.

“We don’t have time for this,” Dante huffs, crossing his arms.

I hold up my hand to silence him. “Can you figure out what they were looking at last?”

“Yeah,” Michael replies. “These idiots didn’t do a good job at getting rid of the evidence—” and then he pauses, his face freezing in place. After a few seconds, he swallows hard and turns the screen toward me. “This is the last active screen.”

And then I see two faces on the screen, side by side.

A chill crawls up my spine.

Marco Bellini.

Adrian Moretti.

Underneath the images, Keith has his notes app pulled up with the words: Same person?

Dante steps behind me, looking over his shoulder. “No fucking way.”

Michael slowly rises from his seat, confusion wrinkling his face. “He faked his death. Why?”

The walls of the warehouse suddenly feel too enclosed. Even with cold air blasting through the hole I created in the window, I feel hot.

Every memory I have of Adrian crashes to the front of my mind as I overanalyze each interaction.

He manipulated me. Lied to me. But why?