Page 62 of Matteo

Angel finally tears his gaze from the laptop and faces me, dragging his hand down his face. "That leaves us with three here in Sydney."

"Where?" The word comes out strained, almost a snarl.

Niko's on it, rattling off addresses like he's reading from a grocery list, not potential lifelines to Eleanor. "Warehouse in Campsie, house in Botany, strip of shops in Blacktown."

"Details," I demand, needing more, always more.

"The shops are dead, haven't seen life in twelve years. Warehouse leased to some clothing joint. And the house... rented to a Mrs Tinsdale, seventy if she's a day. She owned it before Murphy swooped in, now pays a pittance to stay."

"Hasn't changed the rent in ten years..." He frowns, that crease between his brows deepening. Something's not right.

"Angel," I bark, a fresh surge of adrenaline kicking through my veins. "Mrs Tinsdale. Dig up what dirt you can. Now."

"Already on it, Boss." Angel’s back to his laptop, fingers a blur.

The room spins, a carousel of chaos and possibility, each detail another potential lead to Eleanor. That woman, Mrs Tinsdale—she could hold the damn key. Where are you, Princess?

Angels head pops back up and says, “She's been a widow since she was twenty-six, her husband meeting his end in a brutal car wreck."

"Real accident or does it look like a hit?" I spit out the words, feeling that familiar itch of suspicion crawling up my spine.

"Accident, a car ran a red light, and he was killed on impact," Angel mutters, his eyes never leaving the screen.

"Work?" My voice cuts through the tension hanging in the air.

"Hold on, just hacking the ATO," Niko's fingers dance across the keyboard like he's playing a damn concerto. Kid's got skills, but this shit? It's next level.

"Hacking the what?!" My temples pound, head spinning with the cocktail of pain meds and adrenaline.

"Okay, I’m in…" The kid's all focus, concentration etched into his young face. "Right, so it seems she hasn't worked once in the last ten years."

Angel leans back, squinting at his own screen. "She's on disability due to breaking her back at work. Took a tumble down some stairs, got a payout, but needs the pension to survive."

"Um Dad……" Niko's voice trembles, and when I snap my gaze to him, his face is as white as bone.

"The owner of the company was Conner - Conner Murphy."

"For fuck’s sake!" Fury explodes inside me, and the chair I'm perched on becomes a missile that crashes into the TV, shattering the screen. The sharp crack echoes my rage. "What the fuck is going on?!"

"Watch your collarbone Boss," Angel huffs, not even flinching at my outburst.

"Spike!" My shout ricochets up the staircase. "Get the car ready, and strap on!"

"Angel, we’re going to pay a visit to Mrs Tinsdale." Thewords are a growl, a promise of hell to anyone who stands in my way.

"Niko, you’re going in the storage room." I turn to my son, locking eyes with him.

"The storage room?" He blinks, confusion written all over his face.

"Yep, I’m not taking the chances of having you with us, but I’m also not taking the chances of leaving you unprotected." I tilt my head up toward the ceiling where our fortress of solitude hides behind cold steel.

"Take your laptops with you." Angel's voice is firm, brokering no argument. "They work inside the room. You can keep an eye on us and help feed me information as I need it."

"Okay…" Niko's reply is soft, unsure, but there's no room for debate.

"Come on kid, I’ll take you up." Angel gestures toward the stairs, already moving, ready for whatever hell we're about to unleash.

"Niko," I grasp his shoulder, squeezing tight. "I love you." Three little words that mean more than any empire I could ever build.

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