Page 98 of The Contract

Is one innocent girl an even trade for my father’s return?

For vengeance, justice—blood—for my sister?

Declan’s mouth curls into a slow, knowing smirk, savoring every second of my torment. “Interested now?”

God help me…

I am.

CHAPTER 32

Dante

Satan was once an angel. I was never so delusional.

I’ve spent years turning the screws, literally, on men who screamed themselves hoarse. All to extract every last clue about our father’s disappearance.

Years drowning in terminal footage.

Every camera. Every angle. Every goddamned millisecond.

And somehow, I’ve never seen this?

Oh, and by the way—not one goddamn whisper that our father’s abductor and Trinity’s attacker might be the same monster.

Fuck. Clearly, I need sharper thumbscrews.

My eyes narrow, locking onto blurred figures against an all-too-familiar backdrop.

Is it fake?

No. I feel it. A savage instinct, deep in my gut. It hits like a sledgehammer to the chest.

Hope.

“Look here, Bráthair,” he taunts softly. “Recognize them?”

And with it, everything snaps into place.

Fog lifts from the bay of my mind, sharpening the world into razor-edged clarity.

Two syndicates.

Five men. Front, back, sides. A box-in—slicing off every exit like a noose tightening around a throat.

Did my father see it coming? Did he sense the trap closing? Slipped onto a plane, thinking he’d outsmarted them? Outrun them?

But then what?

He never stepped off that plane. Never touched solid ground again. Just…vanished. Like a goddamned alien abduction. Or a Harlan Coben novel.

Just. Fucking. Gone.

My gaze snaps back to Declan’s bloodshot stare, gleaming with smug triumph. “Well, Dante? Is that worth something to you?”

No…

It’s worth everything.

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