Page 58 of Savage Obsession

Lazaro planned another attack.

That son of a bitch was going to make another move.

A storm brews inside me, dark and unrelenting. My pulse pounds in my ears, my breathing slow and measured as I struggle to contain the overwhelming need for blood.

“He’s already a dead man,” I murmur. “But now? Now I’m going to enjoy killing him.”

My father lets out a slow exhale. “We need to move carefully—”

“I don’t give a damn about being careful.” My voice is pure steel. “He tried to kill my wife. He’s not getting another chance.”

Bella’s mother takes a shaky breath. “I need protection.”

“And why the hell should I help you?” I flick my gaze to her. “You watched your husband wreck these havocs and stayed quiet.”

She lifts her chin, though her hands still tremble. “I kept quiet because going against him means my death, but he has extended his callousness to my child. I am a mother who has failed her child for years, but I hope it is not too late to fight for her.”

My jaw tightens, and I push down a surge of pity. I don’t give a damn about her. But I do give a damn about one thing—finding Lazaro and putting a bullet between his eyes.

"Where is he now?"

"He fled the house after receiving a phone call that you have captured his hitman."

"Do you know his current location?"

"No."

Sabastian studies her, then speaks. “And what do you expect in return for this information?”

She exhales. “Protection and a way out.”

I stare at her for a long moment. Then, slowly, I nod.

“You’ll get protection,” I say. “But if you’re lying, if this is some kind of ploy—” I lean in, my voice lethal. “I’ll put you in the ground next to him.”

She doesn’t flinch. “I understand.”

Sabastian leans forward, his voice even. “Then we move quickly. If Lazaro was planning another attack, we will have to strike first.”

I clench my fists, the promise of violence thrumming in my veins.

Lazaro is a dead man walking.

And I won’t stop until he takes his last breath.

27

Aithan

The cigar between my fingers burns slow, the embers crackling softly in the silence of my office. The dim lighting barely reaches the edges of the room, casting long shadows across the walls. My mind is a battlefield, thoughts colliding like gunfire. Lazaro Galanis is becoming bolder, and that pisses me off.

Leon sits across from me, his posture tense, his expression grim. The news he just delivered has me gripping my glass of scotch tighter than I should.

“Say that again.” My voice is calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that comes before a bloodbath.

Leon exhales, tired in a way I haven’t seen in years. “The warehouse where the latest shipment was offloaded has just been hit. Everything was torched.”

I let the words settle, staring at the smoke curling from the tip of my cigar. This wasn’t just a hit. It was a statement. An insult. And it worked—because my blood is boiling.

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