Page 80 of These Deadly Vows

“How’s that possible?” This can’t be happening. My pulse pounds in my ears as all color drains from my face. I should have never let her out of my sight. The second I saw that test, I should have cuffed her to me. Fuck. Fucking fuck. I punch the wall, splitting my knuckles open.

“I don’t know. I was preoccupied. I fucked up, I get that.”

“She’s pregnant. If anything happens to her or our child, so help me. I will string you up by your balls.”

“Fuck. I’ll find her. I swear to you.”

“You better.” I hang up on him and dial my wife’s number.

After four rings, a male voice answers, “Hello Ghost.”

I put the call on speakerphone and click on the app to track her location to find they have turned hers off. Fuck. “Who is this? If you’ve hurt her.”

“Relax. Your wife is fine. For now.”

“What do you want?”

“See, I knew you were a reasonable man. I’ll be in touch. No cops. Don’t try anything stupid.” The call drops.

“What’s going on?” Capone questions me.

“Mobilize everyone. I want our building on lockdown. Someone has Adeline.”

If anything happens to her, I’ll burn this city and everyone in it to the ground.

I can’t lose her.

I won’t.

To be continued…

Epilogue

Flash pulled some footage from the street cameras. They show Adeline getting into an Aston Martin. It’s taking some time to do a cross reference to find out who she associates with that drives that kind of vehicle.

Capone is keeping Ghost away to prevent him from killing me.

I wouldn’t blame him.

I’ve fucked up royally.

I didn’t know Adeline was pregnant. Not that her safety isn’t important, but this changes everything. If anyone else found out, they’d kill her to prevent the club from taking over all of Marco Ricci’s territory and the money and manpower that comes along with it.

“Got it,” Flash says, looking smug. “One of the Bianchi brothers owns the car.”

I let out a sigh of relief.

“She must have snuck out with Carla. I’ll call it in.”

My phone buzzes as I step out of the security room.

Abel: You’ve gotta see this. I just hate to do it through text.

“What the fuck?” I mutter as I scroll through the photos my brother is sending me.

I scroll down and back up.

Coralie has a kid.

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