Page 50 of Curse

Matti

Iyank the wheel hard, whipping around a busy corner without looking. Pedestrians scatter across the crosswalk, screaming and flipping me off as I roar through. Car horns and angry shouts erupt in a cacophony behind me. I weave through the chaos, threading between taxis and delivery trucks, ignoring every blaring scream of disapproval.

The Hennessey Venom F5 roars beneath me, its engine a feral growl echoing off Manhattan’s glass and steel canyons. Vin’s pride and joy. Not exactly suited for a city gridlock, but it’s the fastest car on the Demonio estate, and every second I can cut off getting to Siena is worth the risk. The thought of her in danger pushes my foot down harder on the accelerator.

“Jesus Christ, Matti!” Vin shouts from the passenger seat, gripping the dashboard as though his life depends on it. “You don’t want to die before you get to her.”

I know he’s only half-serious. Vin thrives on mayhem—fast cars, reckless chases, the thrill of brushing too close to the edge. Normally, I’m the one reining him in. But not today.Today, nothing is stopping me from getting to her.

I grit my teeth, concentrating on getting there, telling myself over and over that Aurelio may not even know that she’s at the Edge. If he’d done something to her, Olivia would have called me. Unless she was the one who let it slip to Aurelio where she is and doesn’t want to tell me.

Fuck, I can’t relax until I lay eyes on her myself. When I checked the cameras, she wasn’t in her room. Franco was still locked up, but she was gone.

My fingers tighten on the wheel as I race through another red light, blaring the horn when a delivery van veers out of my way too slowly.

The Edge looms ahead, its nondescript underground entrance barely visible from the street. I swerve down the ramp, tires screeching. The gate barely slides open before I blast through, the guards leaping out of the way, screaming and cursing at me. The second I throw the car into park, I’m out, leaving the engine running and the door open. Vin calls after me, but I don’t stop.

The private parking lot is crowded with unfamiliar cars. My gut tightens. This isn’t normal. Who the hell are these people? Would Aurelio bring outsiders into this?

After his announcement that he ordered the hit on Mikey and his threat against innocent women like Siena and Tommy’s ex-girlfriend, anything is possible.

Bursting through the door, I nearly collide with Olivia. She steps forward, hand raised like she’s going to explain something, but I’m on her before she can get a word out, grabbing her by the shoulders and shoving her against the wall.

“Did you tell him?” I snarl, my voice low and deadly. “Didyou tell Aurelio she’s here?”

Her eyes widen in terror as she tries to shove me away. “No! I—I didn’t—” she gasps, her voice cracking.

I let go of her, don’t wait for her to recover. My feet pound against the concrete floors as I sprint toward Siena’s room, my heart hammering.

Siena is staying all the way at the back of the Edge, and the twisting hallways are designed to confuse intruders, but I know them better than anyone. It takes less than a minute to reach her door, and I burst through without hesitation—only to freeze in my tracks.

The room is swarming with armed men in black. For a split second, I can’t process what I’m seeing, scanning the room for one person and one person only.

She isn’t here. Siena isn’t here.

One of the men steps forward, hand outstretched, his expression casual. “Eh, you Vin? How’s she cuttin’ then?” His thick Irish accent grates against my already frayed nerves.

“Where the fuck is she?” I growl, smacking his hand away and grabbing him by the shirt.

The man doesn’t flinch. His grip clamps down on my wrists, and he glares back at me, chin raised defiantly. “Guess you’re not Vin, then.”

Another man steps forward, older, his demeanor more measured. He places a hand on my arm, his own Irish lilt softer but still distinct. “Alright, now, no need for dat.” He gestures to the man I’m holding. “Don’t mind Declan. He’s what we call a culchie.”

I split a glare between them. “What?”

“A culchie. A bogger. He’s from down the country, as they say. The rest of us come from Dublin.” He leans in and lowershis voice conspiratorially, but loud enough for the room to hear. “It means we’re better than ‘im.”

Declan side-eyes him, shaking his head as the others chuckle.

“I’m not here for your jokes,” I snap, my voice sharp. All I care about is Siena, and the fact that she’s not here and these men are is about to throw me into a tailspin. “Who the fuck are you, and why are you in this room?”

The older man straightens, his smirk fading. “Ronan MacCuinn. My father and yours—no? You’re Matteo? Aurelio, then, your boss does business with my father. The man you’ve got hold of is called Declan Gallagher.”

Fuck, the MacCuinns, an Irish syndicate with ties to the Demonios, but primarily through Aurelio, a fact that has my adrenaline pumping.

“Where is the girl who was in this room?” I demand, my tone biting.

Ronan shrugs. “Didn’t see any girl. We’re just here for…business.”

---