Page 132 of Brutal Heir
Who the fuck took her?
Whoever it was would be six feet under by tomorrow.
“Matty!” I roar, spinning around.
Without diverting his gaze from the screen, he grinds out, “I’m trying, Ale. There’s a lot of fucking footage to comb through.”
When tracing Rory’s phone proved futile, my cousin jumped on the computer. For the past hour, he’s been charged with the grueling task of hacking into video camera feeds across town. I watch as he clicks through grainy footage, cursing under his breath, then tosses back another espresso. The Geminis havebeen mobilized, and they’re scouring the city. Still, there’s nothing I can do but stand here and pace like an asshole.
I shouldn’t have waited in that damned line at the café for so long. By the time I got back to the table with the pastries my little leprechaun was gone.
Whoever took her must have come from the back entrance. No one had walked by while I was in line, and Sammy was stationed at the front of the café. They had to have come in through the alley.
Unless…
The agonizing thought lances through me, as it has been for the past hour. What if she left on her own? What if she realized she didn’t wantyou?
Maybe she realized the truth, that I'm still broken. Still not whole. And maybe she doesn’t want to spend her life mending someone like me.
The ring in my pocket suddenly feels heavier. Not right at all. Maybe I shouldn’t have…
“No,” I grit out, my molars clenching. She wouldn’t just leave. Not after all we’ve been through. Someone must have lured her out somehow then snatched her. It’s the only possibility I will accept right now.
My phone buzzes in my back pocket, and my heart lurches up my throat. Sliding it out, my fingers tremble as I recognize the familiar name on the screen.
“Rory!”
Matteo finally glances up from the screen. “Keep her on the line so I can track her location.”
“It’s just a text,” I bark back.
“Then send another message. Anything to keep her online.”
Without reading her words, my fingers jab at the screen, frantically typing out the first thing that comes to mind.
Me: I love you, Rory.
No response.
Not even those damned little blue bubbles.
I wait for only a second before my gaze lifts to her original text. A wave of dread blossoms deep in my core, but I shove it down, forcing myself to read the words.
Rory: I’m so sorry, Ale. You gave me safety, freedom, and most importantly love. Even when I didn’t think I deserved any of it. But this is something I have to do. Not because I want to, but because someone I love is going to die if I don’t. Please don’t come after me. If you do, Conall will hurt you. And I couldn’t survive that. You once told me I saved you. Now I need to return the favor for someone else. I love you, Ale. More than my own life.
She’s gone. Tears blur my vision as I read the message a second time, then a third. After the fourth, I finally shake myself from the stupor. No. I will not accept this. Fuck that. There is no way I’m losing her.
Whose life is she giving up for her own? Herbastardoof a father? One of her brothers, maybe?Merda. It doesn’t matter. Conall can go straight to fucking hell for all I care, and I’ll gladly go down with him if it means saving Rory.
My eyes snap up to Matteo, still hunched over the desk. “Were you able to trace the cell?”
A glint of amusement brightens his eyes. “Of course I was. I’m a professional, remember?”
Shaking my head, the ghost of a smile emerges.
“She’s in the Lower East Side at some nursing home.”
My brows furrow as I try to recall the name of the one patient she said she kept in touch with. Paddy something…
