Page 112 of Creed

“So, they’re working with someone with power and resources, or at least connections for a hacker of this caliber,” I surmise.

Crispin reviewed the campus’s security footage, but it shows nothing of what actually happened. He swears there's no sign the feed was tampered with, but we know it has been—because what we know happened isn't there. That means someone with exceptional hacking skills replaced the footage.

Morales doesn’t have that skill set, and neither does Ortez; he thrives off hurting people, not sitting behind a computer.

I’ve seen pictures of him, and the man’s eyes are dead and soulless. I’ve also seen pictures of two kills he’s rumored to have made—whole families slaughtered, children included. In both cases, Ortez’s target was tied to a chair and mutilated, with his family on the floor in front of him. I imagine Ortez tortured his targets physically, but also mentally, as he killed the loved ones in front of them.

It’s unfathomable that Sophie came from that fucking bastard. I want to make a national day of honor to celebrate her mother for keeping her away from that sack of shit and to give her grandparents whatever they’ll ever need in life for their role in that as well.

Vito turns to me, his face hard and tight, a knowing darkness is in his eyes. “Ortez won’t stop coming for Sophie.”

A potent darkness rises within me. “He’ll never succeed.”

Massimo eyes me levelly. “How far are you willing to go, baby brother?”

“As far, deep, and dark as I need to. She’ll be my wife soon.”

Joy fillsPapá’s eyes. “Lei è la tua anima.”

“Sheismy soul,” I confirm his words.

Vito rises and claps me on the back. “Let’s hunt, baby brother.”

Chapter 33

Ollie

I wake with apanicked jolt and stumble out of my bed. It’s Sunday morning, only a few days since Sophie’s been gone, but it feels like a month.

I grab my phone, panicking that I missed something from her or Antonio while I crashed. There’s nothing from Sophie, and Antonio’s message just states that Miguel can pick me up if I want.

My stomach drops with worry again for Sophie. I grab my toiletry bag and head to the washroom down the hall. I go pee, staring at my phone the whole time, willing Sophie to call me.

There’s hardly anyone in the dorms, and the bathroom stays empty as I wash up and brush my teeth, trying to ignore the paranoia and trepidation that makes my nerves buzz.

Suddenly, wanting the safety of my room with a locked door, I hurry back to my dorm room. My ringing phone makes me jump, and I fumble, trying to get it. Seeing it’s Zac calling, my stomach drops. I answer as I unlock my door and go back into the room. “Hey.”

“Don’t sound so overjoyed that it’s me.”

“Sorry.”

Making sure my door is locked, because my nerves arelit, I sit on the edge of my bed, fighting another surge of tears. I’ve never wanted to cry so much in my entire life. My emotions—worry, fear, paranoia—are all raging.

“Still no word?” he asks, not hiding his worry either.

“No. You?”

“I would’ve let you know immediately.”

“Look at that, everyone,” I scoff. “Zac Watkins does have the ability to think of other people.”

“Ouch.”

Jesus, my ramped-up emotional state is making me anasshole.

I wince. “Sorry.”

“No, I get it. I’m a dick.”

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