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I flip him off. “Did you get them?”

He explains that the CEO and head of their legal team are waiting in meeting room K. Looking around, I notice the entire floor is empty.

“When I told them I was with the DeLuca family, people were eager to cooperate. So most cleared out, and some of the senior employees promised they’d take care of the other departments and security footage if we don’t come after them.”

Shrugging, I say, “I’m not making any promises yet.”

Inside meeting room K, I find the CEO, Roger Martins, a man in his fifties with thinning hair, and when he opens his mouth, I notice a few teeth are missing. Beside him is, who I assume to be, Kim Joung, the head of legal. The latter is younger and looks like he’s in shock as blood runs from his nose.

I sit across from them. The desk between us is walnut, polished to a shine that reflects the overhead lights and the blood on Roger’s upper lip.

“What’s the meaning of this?” he sputters, outraged.

“Let’s talk about your human trials,” I say calmly. “Specifically, Paige Adams.”

“Who?”

Roger glares at Kim at the stupid question.

“Really?” I drawl. “You want to waste time pretending you don’t know who I’m talking about? Okay, I’ll oblige.”

Even though I’m itching to kill them both where they sit, I explain who Paige is—was—and what they’ve done to her. While I talk, Roger wipes blood from his lip with a trembling hand.

“Those trials were FDA-approved. The consent forms were—”

“Signed by a man you were paying to keep his wife in your program,” I interrupt on a snarl.

Kim opens his mouth, but shuts it again as I hold up a hand.

“Paige Adams was the mom of the woman I love.” I lean forward, elbows on the desk. “My wife is at home, grieving, because you killed her mom. And when my wife is unhappy…” I let the sentence hang. “I become extremely fucking unreasonable.”

Gio shifts his weight behind me. The sound of his jacket settling is enough to make both men flinch.

“We’ve put people in concrete for less,” Paolo says casually, examining his nails. “Whole families, sometimes. Depends on the mood.”

The CEO’s throat works. A drop of sweat traces his temple.

“Harry Adams had legal authority as her husband,” Kim argues. His voice is steadier than it should be. Practiced. The voice of a man who’s argued his way out of depositions and regulatory hearings. “The Medical Power of Attorney forms were—”

Fed up with this bullshit, I shoot Roger in the shoulder.

Even with the silencer, the gunshot echoes. Roger screams—a high, shattered sound that cuts off when he clamps his hand over the wound. Blood seeps through his fingers, dark and fast, staining the custom wool of his suit jacket.

Kim gags but darts to his feet, apparently stupid enough to make a run for it. Gio laughs darkly as he circles left while Paolo goes right. The two of them pin him down in seconds and roughly return him to his seat.

“Sit the fuck down,” Gio barks, clamping one hand on Kim’s shoulder while Paolo casually positions himself behind Roger, just in case he tries to run as well.

Nobody moves. The legal counsel has gone perfectly still, his eyes fixed on the gun in my hand as if it’s the only thing in the universe.

“Medical Power of Attorney,” I say, turning to Kim and acting as if his little escape attempt didn’t happen. “That’s your defense?” I level the gun at his right hand, where it rests white-knuckled on the arm of the chair. “Would you like to change your tune?”

He doesn’t answer fast enough, so I shoot him through the hand.

The scream is worse than Roger’s. Raw. Unfiltered. The man clutches his ruined hand to his chest, blood spraying across his shirtfront, his breath coming in ragged sobs.

Paolo laughs. The sound is cold and genuine. “I bet he’s still thinking about how to get out of this. It’s adorable.”

“Paperwork won’t save you,” Gio grunts.