Page 65 of Vows in Violence

"Nothing with fingerprints," I mutter, flipping to the next page. "Obviously, you stayed out of trouble before becoming the dick you are now."

Azrael, as he insists on calling himself, remains silent, his gaze unwavering. I continue, my voice steady. "Your DNA was a long shot. Only 31 states currently collect DNA for use in prosecution, and since you have no record with fingerprints, it was doubtful we’d get anything with your DNA."

He smiles, his confidence in the belief that we may have found nothing growing. His lips stretch over his teeth, a gruesome image with teeth missing and gums bleeding. It's like something out of a horror movie. As I read on, I know I’ll take immense pleasure in wiping that smile right off his fucking face.

"But," I say, leaning forward, "you have a niece who gave her DNA to one of those genetic ancestry sites. Now, this is curious. According to state records, she doesn’t have a paternal uncle. Until Luca’s friends did some digging. Rebecca, apparently, did have a paternal uncle, but his records were hidden. His name is Hugh. Hugh Meyer."

His eyes widen, darting from me to Luca to Damon and then back to me.Oh, satisfaction.This is right on the money. This is all we need to try and break him.

"Are you that man, Hugh?" I ask, my voice a cold whisper.

"I am Azrael," he insists, but his voice wavers.

"No, you are Hugh Meyer, uncle to Rebecca Meyer, who is in her second year of college. She’s a very good student, my friend. It’s a shame that the world will lose her because her uncle decided to fuck around with the Five Families."

"I am Azrael," he repeats, but now there’s fear in his eyes. His voice isn't as strong. He’s stumbling, grasping at the persona he's created.

I stare at Hugh, watching as his breathing grows heavier with each passing moment. "We have a friend in California, Hugh. He's in the same line of work as us. You may have heard of him. Sal? Now, I know the Commission members use Azrael as their personal police force, but I also know that no Don likes having a faceless threat around. Sal will help us find Rebecca."

Hugh’s eyes widen in panic. He struggles against his ropes, but they hold firm. I lean back in my chair and kick forward, sending Hugh’s chair tipping over backward. I stand over him, looking down at his twisted form.

"Who do you take orders from, Hugh?" I ask, my voice hard.

"I am Azrael," he insists, but there's a tremor in his voice now.

"You are not Azrael. You are Hugh Meyer, and your niece, Rebecca, will be put into a shipping container and dropped into the fucking sea if you don’t start talking now. You are too organized, too trained to just be a bunch of fucks doing a job. Who do you take orders from?" I demand, leaning in closer.

"They were supposed to protect my name," he mutters, his voice barely audible.

"Grow the fuck up, Hugh. No one can protect anyone in this world. You should know that by now. They don’t give a fuckabout you. You are captured, and they are relying on you being a fucking parrot instead of doing anything to save you. Now, who do you take orders from?"

Hugh’s facade cracks. "There are people above me," he admits, his voice shaky.

"I want to know who is above them." I press, leaning in closer. Hugh struggles against his bindings; his face contorted with the internal battle raging within him. I watch as his resolve weakens, the truth clawing its way to the surface. Fresh blood oozes from his wounds, and I hope he doesn’t bleed out before I get my answers.

"Waylon Vigneault," he finally whispers, his voice barely audible.

The Commissioner? "You lie," I snap, my eyes boring into his.

"Not this time," he insists, his eyes meeting mine with a desperate sincerity. I see it. He’s telling the truth. “It’s Vigneault. I don’t know how; I don’t know why—”

"Marzano. Out!" I bark, straightening up and gesturing for Damon to take Hugh away. I follow Luca into the hallway, my mind racing.

"Luca," I begin, but before I can say more, he tries to explain.

"Look, Romanov, I didn’t know that—"

My rage boils over, and I grab Luca by the shirt, slamming him against the wall. A picture frame falls to the floor and shatters, the sound echoing through the hallway.

"Get the fuck off of me, Romanov!" Luca yells, his face flushed with anger. "You have no idea what you are doing."

"Because you are fucking Untouchable?!" I hiss, my grip tightening. "Who is stopping me from touching you now?!"

The door behind us opens, and Damon rushes into the hallway, shoving his way between us. Luca swings at me, and I barely manage to block it. Damon forces us apart, pushing us against opposite walls. I rub my jaw and grin at Luca.

“Is that the best you’ve got?”

“Calm the fuck down. Both of you,” Damon growls, his voice a command that cuts through the tension.

---