Page 53 of The Diávolos: Part Two
“Never been better, brother.”
“That’s good to hear. Any updates on Peter?”
“We think he’s preparing to go into hiding. He’s barely been seen in the last few days, and if news that you’re back has gotten to him, there’s no way he’ll come out now.”
Damn. That’s not good. If Angelica’s father leaves, she won’t be able to tell him about our marriage.
“Angelica is supposed to see him tomorrow. Do you think he’ll leave before then?” I ask Xander.
“I’m not sure, but I’ll keep track of him and have him followed.”
“Great. Now, let’s talk about Academia. How much of it can be salvaged?”
The guys and I continue our conversation for another hour, coming up with a plan to rebuild the club.
Academia is located in the lower district of old Cebrene. This area, as well as Cebrene Heights, is controlled by my family. I run most of my business in Uptown, given it’s closer to Saintville and the Port, but since I have plans to extend my territory from the Lower District all the way to the East side, it makes sense to build another warehouse next to the club. We need extra locations to ensure Peter won’t know where to find me.
Even though he’s planning to hide, he can still send his men after us. So, the only way out is to eliminate every single one of his cronies until he’s forced out of his hole. Unless we find him first.
Regardless, it can only end one way.
Death.
Since Gianis told me about Peter’s plan to infiltrate Antium by land, I’ve had my men keep track of the Kouvalakis clan. There’s no way we’re letting him leave Cebrene with a truck filled with young girls.
I told the other Godfathers about the potential issue, and they were all on board to stop his ‘shipment’ from crossing the border. So, we’ve been intercepting all trucks traveling between Cebrene and Antium, and Xander has been able to get records of all incoming and outgoing flights to and from the metropolis. We’re going to catch the fuckers, one way or another.
Hendrick has been working overtime to find and shut down every underground bordello in Antium City. One of the clubs he discovered was filled with underage girls, most of them druggedand half-conscious. The image of what he described made me want to fucking puke.
Surprisingly, not all of them were Greek. The eldest of the girls—an eighteen-year-old—was actually of Puerto Rican descent and the only one who wasn’t drugged. But when they found her, she was so distraught, she could barely utter a word.
A couple weeks have gone by and dozens of girls have been rescued already from various clubs and bars. Hendrick even turned one of his warehouses into a temporary refuge until they can recover fully and be sent home. He’s been working with law enforcement—for the first time ever—to find the parents. The Godfathers have been helping him every step of the way.
My phone rings while I’m still seated at the table with Xander and Dion.
“Hey, Hen. What’s up?”
“Just got word of a truck making its way toward the Antium border. I won’t be able to make it on time, so I need you to go intercept it. I have a feeling this is the one.”
So far, every truck we’ve stopped only carried product. No signs of children. The wait has been excruciating.
“Are you sure?”
“We’ve got eyes on it. It’s a small van, not like the usual cargo ones we’ve seen. I’ll send over the live feed.”
My phone vibrates in my ear, and I put Hendrick on speaker to check the message. The video of the truck traveling down the freeway pops up on my screen. I watch as it takes the next exit and stops at a gas station. The vehicle then pulls up behind the building where the bathroom is located and backs up to the door. A sense of dread settles in my chest. This doesn’t look good.
“Hen, are you watching this?” I ask him, the bile rising up my throat.
“Yes,” he mutters.
The drone hovers above as the driver’s door opens and a man steps out. He heads to the back of the truck, looking around as if to make sure the coast is clear.
When he finally cracks the doors open, my heart plummets. A group of young girls hurry out the back.
A sudden wave of nausea churns inside me. My eyes are fixed on the screen. I can’t look away from the grotesque scene unfolding before me. I’m theDiávolos, a harbinger of death, and I can’t even stomach the images.
My throat tightens, and a sour taste fills my mouth as I desperately try to swallow back the rising bile. “Get your men ready at the border. We’re rescuing those children,” I say before hanging up.
