Page 60 of Savage Reckoning
The events of the last twenty-four hours replay in my mind. The stark terror of learning Lea had been taken. The cold calculated fury as I planned Moretti’s destruction. When I saw her bound to that chair, alone and vulnerable, the relief that crashed through me when she was safe was so overwhelming it nearly brought me to my knees.
And later, the way she came to me—not out of fear or calculation or obligation, but with a hunger that matched my own. For the first time, there was no game between us, no strategic moves or countermoves. Just her body against mine, her skin under my hands, her voice in my ear.
I close my eyes, savoring the memory. It feels dangerous to indulge in this, like standing at the edge of a precipice, the fall both terrifying and tempting. I’ve spent my entire adult life maintaining control—over my emotions, my business, my city. Love is the ultimate surrender of control. Yet here I am, allowing myself to imagine a future where I might have both: my empire and my queen.
A soft knock interrupts my thoughts.
“Enter,” I call, straightening in my chair and schooling my features into their usual mask of composed authority.
Blake steps into the office, his posture military-straight, his expression professionally neutral.
“Good morning, sir,” he says, closing the door behind him. “I have the final security report on yesterday’s incident.”
I gesture for him to continue, noting a slight hesitation in his manner. Unusual for Blake, who is typically direct to the point of bluntness.
“The property was secure as of 0400 hours,” he reports. “All teams have completed their sweeps, and we’ve found no further evidence of intrusion. The distraction at the east perimeter appears to have been the only breach point.”
“Good,” I nod. “And the men who allowed that breach?”
“Disciplined accordingly, sir. Also, Domingo has been... dealt with. As you instructed.”
I acknowledge this with a slight inclination of my head. Betrayal, even at the lowest levels, must have consequences. It’s a principle that has kept my organization intact while others fractured under pressure.
Blake shifts his weight slightly, something clearly still on his mind. “There is one additional matter, sir.”
“Go on.”
He reaches into his jacket and produces a small black object—a burner phone, basic and nondescript.
“Ms. Song found this during her walk yesterday. On the grounds.”
I frown, the first ripple disturbing my morning’s unusual calm. “A piece of trash Moretti’s thugs left behind. Get rid of it.”
“Sir,” Blake says carefully, and that hesitation is back, more pronounced now. “I had Alessandro’s tech team examine it. It’s operating on a highly secure, military-grade encrypted network.”
I lean forward slightly, my attention sharpening. “Explain.”
“This isn’t a thug’s phone, sir. This is a ghost. It’s the kind of untraceable hardware a player like Isabel Vega would use.”
The name sends concentric circles of disturbance through my morning’s peace. Isabel Vega. The cartel liaison who walked into my lake house uninvited. Who showed a pointed, personal interest in Lea. Who, by all accounts, is as ambitious as she is dangerous.
“Where exactly did Ms. Song find this?” I keep my voice even, betraying none of the sudden unease coiling in my gut.
“Near the eastern garden path. The same area where we found evidence of perimeter tampering.” Blake hesitates again, then adds, “She said she heard it ringing and answered it, but the caller hung up immediately.”
“And you believe her?” The question comes out sharper than I intended.
Blake’s face remains carefully neutral. “It’s not my place to question Ms. Song’s account, sir.”
Of course not. Blake is a soldier, not a strategist. He reports; he doesn’t interpret.
“That will be all, Blake,” I say, reaching for the phone. “Leave this with me.”
He places it on my desk, nods once, and withdraws, closing the door quietly behind him.
Alone again, I stare at the innocuous black rectangle, this small object that has introduced a discordant note into my morning’s harmony. Slowly, I pick it up, turning it over in my hands. It’s a cheap model, the kind you can buy with cash at any convenience store, but Blake’s tech team revealed its sophisticated interior. A wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Just like...
