Page 210 of Salvatore

“Don’t.” Abri stays me with gentle fingers. “Let my brothers handle it. They know what they’re doing.”

No, they don’t. All I hear is talk of mobilizing more men, more weapons, heavier artillery.

“They can’t just storm in there,” I plead. “Gabriel will kill Salvatore straight away.”

I’m dismissed with a fleeting glance. Forced to sit there, on edge whenever someone answers a call or dials a number, clinging to hope that something will change. But nothing does.

There are murmurs of weaponized drones, explosives, attack dogs.

They don’t understand that it will only take a second for Gabriel to end Salvatore’s life if he thinks they’re under threat.

More people enter the bar—suit-clad, professional in appearance, a beautiful blonde woman in tow—their icy presence enough to change the energy in the room.

“Don’t look so worried. That’s my brother and his associates.” Layla squeezes my knee and stands. “They’re here to help.”

I stay planted on the couch as quiet greetings are spoken, handshakes exchanged, and some hugs, too.

It’s surreal, these people making nice while Salvatore suffers.

“I want to help search.” I push to my feet. “Can I borrow someone’s car?”

A few heads turn, their expressions ranging from concern to something worse—thinly veiled pity.

Then one of the newcomers strolls toward me—dark eyes, dark hair, an air of controlled menace. Power clings to him, sharp-edged and lethal.

His gaze drags over me, appraising. “You’re Gabriel’s daughter?”

I straighten in offense. “Iwas.”

His mouth twitches, almost amused. “My condolences on the parentage.” He holds out a hand. “Cole Torian.”

I hesitate a moment before taking his offering. “Ivy Diaz.”

We shake, the contact firm and brief before he glances over his shoulder at the two men approaching. “These are my most trusted—and most lethal—men.”

He gestures first to the bearded one with dark blond hair, his broad frame a wall of restrained violence. “Hunter.” Then to the other—dark-haired, sharp-eyed, tattoos crawling up from beneath the collar of his button-down. “Decker.”

The intimidating duo acknowledge me with terse nods.

“And this is Sarah.” Cole tilts his head toward the blonde sauntering forward like a deadly storm in a designer pantsuit. “She’s more savage than the men.”

“Hi.” The woman smiles, her razor-edged beauty momentarily softening.

“Hi.” My tone isn’t as welcoming. “Have you got a car I can borrow or not?”

Her smile deepens, turning devious.

“Sarah,” Hunter warns. “You two aren’t going anywhere.”

“Not yet.” The woman keeps her gaze on me, studying. “But where would you go if you could get out of here? Obviously you have somewhere in mind.”

“The home I grew up in. The apartment I was held?—”

“She’s been out of the loop for a decade.” Matthew rakes a rough hand through his hair. “We need to focus on how we’re going to attack once our sources do finally find him. I don’t want to waste a?—”

“That’s not the way to approach this,” I plead. “You need to let me try to negotiate.”

“Salvatore would rather die than have us risk your life. I’m not doing that to him. End of story.”

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