Page 59 of Twisted Devotion

I think of the files I left on the table—intentionally. Iwantedher to take them, to see what she would do. And I already know where they’ll end up.

Marco.

The same asshole she would risk everything for.

And the worst part? He wouldn’t do the same for her. He would use her, push her into danger without a second thought. And she would let him—because somewhere deep down, he’s still clinging to the belief that he might actually care.

I’ve always hated Marco. But after sitting across from him, watching the way he speaks about his sister,my wife, like she’s nothing more than a pawn on a chessboard, Iloathehim.

I should slit his throat. Contract be damned.

The way he talks about Aria makes my jaw clench. Like she’s an obedient little pet. Like she doesn’t have fire in her, like she doesn’t challenge at every turn. It almost amuses me how little he understands her.Almost.

In the driver’s seat, Matteo keeps glancing at me through the rearview mirror. He hasn’t been my right-hand man for long, but he’s already learned when to speak and when to keep his mouth shut. Right now, he waits.

I exhale sharply, running a hand down my jaw.“What is it?”

Mateo’s voice is steady. “We found him.”

I glance at him, considering. There are a lot of people we’re hunting right now.

I wonder which one he means.

“The man,” Matteo clarifies. “The dockworker in charge of the shipment that night. He’s alive.For now.”

That last part makes me smirk. If there wasn’t a good chance he had useful information, I’d have killed him on the spot—maybe even strung up for the Caldarones to find, just to send a message.

“He’s at the house?”

Matteo nods.

“Then let’s go see him.”

With a smooth turn of the wheel, Matteo switches lanes, the city lights flashing past the tinted windows. The steady hum of the engine fills the silence. I tap my knuckles against my thigh, forcing my mind to shift to more pressing matters. I’ve already wasted too much time thinking about Marco.

“The guard,” I say suddenly. “The one in the house.”

“James?”

“I told you to transfer him out.”

Matteo exhales through his nose. “I know.”

Before I can press the issue, he adds, “And given his history with the family, I thought he was the best man for the job.”

A pause.

My fingers still against my thigh. “What connection?”

Matteo shifts his grip on the wheel. “Gerald,” he says. “His last name is Gerald.”

The name strikes something deep in my chest.Gerald.Ken. Ken Gerald.

I don’t move. Don’t speak. My mind turns, piecing it together.

Matteo glances at me. “He’s Ken’s cousin.”

I close my eyes for a brief second, long enough to let it sink in.

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