Page 24 of The Beautiful Dead

But hacking wasn’t his only skill. Ghost could find anyone. Anywhere. He sat at his desk, fingers moving lazily across the keyboard, rewinding through days of Denny’s footage. Hunting my little lamb.

I grabbed a coffee, pacing behind him, the scent bitter and sharp, grounding me against the electricity still humming in my veins.

“Either of these?”

Ghost’s voice was flat, detached—his focus on the screen, but mine? Mine was still back in that alley, in the heat of another body, in the slow burn of a stare that had ignited something deep in my gut. I leaned in, my gaze flicking over the grainy images. Even in black and white, his eyes cut through me—razor-sharp, slicing straight to the marrow.

I licked my lips. “On the left.”

Ghost let out a low whistle. “Now, he is pretty.”

A growl rumbled in my throat before I could stop it. My fingers curled into fists, itching to wrap around his throat. “Don’t.”

Ghost smirked, but he lifted his hands in surrender. “I’ll run facial recognition. Track his movements. Find out where he’s been.”

“I want everything.”

A pause. A flicker of something unreadable in his expression. “You sure about that?”

My head tilted, anger pressing against the edges of my control.

“I mean, I can get you whatever you want, but this is… next level. Even for you.”

“Watch it,” I snapped.

I turned, storming from the room. I had calls to make.

My father was hounding me about the Gallos, demanding answers about their next move like I was some fucking mindreader—I needed a mole in their operation, but I didn’t have anyone suitable. Shipments needed checking. Distribution lines had to be accounted for. I despised this—leading—even though it was my birthright. I didn’t want to manage operations, balance territories, sit through endless meetings with men I’d rather put a bullet in.

If it were up to me, I’d burn this city to the ground. But Federico had other plans. Expanding, growing our empire—he lived for it. That hunger had always been his driving force. His obsession.

Mine? My eyes fell closed, the grainy image of him burned into my mind as clear as day. I had a different kind of obsession.

Ghost

Left a folder on your desk. Everything you need to know—down to his social security number.

Domino

Good.

Ghost

Monitors are tracking his every move. Just in case you wanted to… y’know.

My phone burnedhot in my hand as I stormed through my apartment, my skin too tight, itching for the feel of blood. Hours were wasted bending to my father’s whims, running the numbers for the latest shipment, making sure every dollar was accounted for before it could be cleaned. The gangs got their cut—a pittance to keep them in line—but one crew had been stupid enough to think they could get away with skimming off the top. I’d sent three soldiers to deal with them. Permanently. What would be done to them would send shockwaves through the ranks. A stark reminder of what would happen if you tried to cross me.

I snatched the folder off the desk and dropped into my chair. The monitors flickered to life, the city sprawling across a dozen screens, but I barely registered them. My focus locked onto the secrets sealed inside that folder.

My eyes devoured every detail. Every iota of information.

Remi Cain.

Son of Angelica Cain—currently wasting away in Hollow Pines Care Home after a severe stroke. Prognosis? Bleak. Months left if she was lucky. That explained why he was here.

But what didn’t add up?

Why wasn’t he staying at Hollow Pines with his family?

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