Page 54 of Felix

The pieces start falling into place like dominos toppling in my brain. “You ran away for ten years, been back two. You ran ‘cause of him?” I say, pointing at Niko.

Eleanor nods, her face softening for just a second. “Something like that,” she admits, looking at her son with pride and worry. “I’ll just go grab you some Scooby snacks so you can work,” she tells Niko before leaving the room.

“Keep it down, will ya?” Niko grumbles, obviously more focused on his laptop than our little drama. I can’t blame him, really. We’ve all got shit to deal with, and right now, finding Aurora is the most important thing.

“Fuck,” I mutter, scrubbing a hand over my face. This whole situation is twisted as hell, and I can’t stop thinking about what might happen to Aurora if we don’t get to her in time. My gut churns, an angry mixture of fear, anxiety, and rage boiling inside me.

“Hey, Felix,” Spike greets me with that cocky smirk, Angelfollowing right behind him. They both sit, looking all serious and broody-like.

That’s when Matteo walks in, looking as calm and collected as ever. He glances at us, then focuses on Niko. “Anything yet, kid?”

“Give it a minute, Dad,” Niko mutters, not even breaking eye contact with the screen. “It’s only been running for a few minutes.”

I glance at Angel, my eyes wide with disbelief. “All this time, I thought you were the tech nerd,” I say, half-laughing, half-annoyed.

He chuckles, clapping me on the back. “I was, but now I got help.”

Help is a fucking understatement. Niko has skills that make Angel look like a goddamn amateur. And here I thought I was working with the best of the best.

“Speaking of which…” Angel continues, “… I’ve got a program running on my laptop for the tattoo. See if it’s been picked up on any cameras anywhere.”

“Fucking hell,” I mutter, impressed by his resourcefulness.

“But Spike reckons it belongs to Antonio Costa,” Angel adds.

“He is one of the Costa brothers, yeah,” Spike confirms, a grim look in his eyes. “They were well-known in Sydney. Used to work for Enzo.”

“Those sick fucks…” I growl under my breath. They were brutal and cruel, used to bring girls to Enzo—ones who never made it back out of his compound. Now I’m starting to realise why. They tortured and killed women, and my Aurora will be next. She’s the one who got away, and for men like them, I can see nothing but horrific pain in her future.

My heart hammers in my chest, a fucking jackhammer beating against my ribs. I clench and unclench my fists, trying to stop the tremors that threaten to shake me apart. The room feels like it’s closing in on me—too many eyes, too many ears, too many fucking people.

“Hey, you good?” Spike asks, lighting up a cigarette and blowing out a lungful of smoke. His voice is raspy, like gravel crunching underfoot as he walks towards the back doors and onto the balcony.

“Fuck no, I’m not good,” I snap back. “Every second we’re sitting here, Aurora is out there with those sick fucks.”

“Keep your shit together, man,” Angel chimes in, his expression steely. “We’re doing everything we can. We’ll find her.”

“Easy for you to fucking say,” I growl out, my gaze flickering between them. “She isn’t your girl.”

“Enough!” Matteo barks from across the room, his phone pressed tight to his ear. He shoots me a glare, warning me not to push my luck. Sometimes, it’s easy to forget that he is more insane than any of us. “I need to take this call. Sit tight.”

He steps away, his voice low and urgent as he speaks into the phone. My fingers drum impatiently on the armrest, the seconds ticking by feeling like fucking hours. I can’t sit still or wait, but what else can I do?

“Look, Felix,” Spike says, walking back in after finishing his cigarette. “We all want Aurora back safe. But if you lose your shit now, you ain’t helping anyone.”

“Fuck off,” I mutter, but I know he’s right. I need to keep it together and focus on the endgame. Aurora needs me to be strong, not a fucking mess.

“Any news?” I ask Angel again, hoping for anything—a lead, clue, anything to get us closer.

“Still running the programs,” he replies, eyes glued to his laptop. “It’s only been a few minutes, man. Just hang tight.”

“Tick-tock, motherfucker,” I mutter under my breath, trying to ignore the desperate thoughts racing through my mind. Every second counts, and we’re wasting them all.

Matteo ends his call, striding back into the room with a grim expression. My gut twists like a fucking knot. I can’t tell if it’s good or bad news, but either way, it’s something.

“Just spoke to Gabe. The brothers moved down to Melbourne into Gallo’s territory to join in on the trafficking ring they run. Gabe said he let them go about six months ago. They roughed up the girls too much between buyers, and girls went missing too often.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

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