Page 107 of Enzo

More screaming—it was getting to be too freaking loud.

“I can help! I can help!” he shouted. “I have evidence—recordings?—”

“You mean the ones we just downloaded? Even the locked files that Roman Lowe had the codes for. Well, we have all of that now.” I gestured to the phone, observing Mitchell’s expression going from hopeful to lost.

The color drained from his face, and blood darkened his shirt, his face white; the only thing holding him up was Rio’s hold on his neck. “You don’t understand what you’re dealing with. I had no choice! That fucking kid took everything and hid it! I was trying to protect him! They’ll bury you and make it look like you never existed.”

“Like we give a shit,” Rio snarled.

Mitchell swallowed hard, the cord biting deeper, and he whimpered. “It was business. Just business.”

“No.” I shook my head. “It wasn’t business. It was evil.”

“What the fuck do you care? Roman’s dead!”

The words hit like a slap, but I didn’t flinch. My grip on the gun tightened. Roman. He didn’t even have the right to say that name after everything. I stared at Mitchell, this pathetic, bloodied man trying to twist the narrative one last time and to rewrite the ending.

But I already knew how it ended.

“You don’t get to say his name,” I said, voice flat. “You don’t get to speak about him like he’s a story you heard once. He’s not dead. He’s breathing. Healing. Living. And I’ll make damn sure no one ever hurts him again.”

There was no rage now—just that cold, moral line I’d crossed and wasn’t coming back from. And if this made me the bad guy in someone else’s story? Fine. I’d be the villain. But I’d be the one who protected Robbie.

Mine. My Robbie.

I stepped back, signaling to Rio and Jamie with a slight nod. They understood, Rio’s grip tightening on the garrote as Mitchell began to thrash, and Jamie stepping closer, flicking his lighter and placing it on Mitchell’s sleeve. The flame spread across the accelerant-soaked fabric with hungry intensity. Mitchell’s scream was cut short by Rio’s tightening grip, reducing it to a strangled gurgle that echoed in the pristine office. The fire licked up his arm, casting dancing shadows across the walls as Jamie stepped back. His face was lit in shifting orange and red, the light flickering across his skin like some unholy halo as the fire caught the garrote and sparked blue and orange in a bizarre chain around Mitchell’s neck. But Jamie’s expression didn’t change—serene, almost detached as if he were watching a campfire instead of a man burning alive. His eyes didn’t only reflect the flames; they held them. Like something inside him had come alive in the chaos. Not excited. Not horrified. Calm. Dangerous. Unblinking.

“We should go,” Jamie said, voice steady despite the chaos unfolding before us. “When it catches the rest of the room, fire department response time in this neighborhood is under six minutes.”

I watched Mitchell thrash against his restraints, the zip ties melting into his skin as the flames spread across his chest.

“Is that enough?” Rio asked. For a split second, I hesitated. One breath. Long enough for the weight of what I was doing to crash my ribs like a wave before I let it wash over and pass. There was no saving Mitchell. No forgiveness. I steadied my aim.

This wasn’t mercy to stop his agony from the flames—I was jealous of the fire stealing his life—I needed to be the one to end it, to earn another thorn on my back around the wolf. This needed to be done. For Roman. For all the others who’d never escaped. I watched Mitchell scream, soundless now, and then I aimed for the center of his head—two shots, right between the eyes.

“Now I’m done.”

We left through the side entrance, as silent as we’d come in. The fire would erase everything—fingerprints, DNA, any trace of our presence. Jamie had already wiped the security footage; we were ghosts who’d never been there. The night air hit my face, cool against the sweat beading on my forehead, carrying the faint scent of smoke that would soon become a roar.

“You good?” Rio asked as we slipped through the gate, his voice low, controlled.

I nodded, tucking the gun away. My hands should have been shaking. They weren’t. “Yeah.”

Jamie was already in the car, fingers dancing across his phone screen. “Wiping the last connection now,” he muttered. “System’s clean.”

The neighborhood remained quiet around us. Expensive homes nestled in manicured lots, their occupants sleeping peacefully behind their security systems and privileges. Rio started the car, but Jamie stepped out. “I’ll wait and make sure,” he announced.

I clasped his hand.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” I said.

Jamie grinned his full-on, toothiest grin. “I wanna watch it burn.”

Rio put his hands on Jamie’s shoulders. “Stay safe, yeah?”

Jamie winked, happy as a pig in shit. “Always.”

“What about you Enzo?” Rio asked me.

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