Page 57 of Tormented Oath

Fear.

"Find out what the Fioris had on her," I order, mind racing with new possibilities. "What they used to control her. And Tomasso?"

"Sir?"

"When you find her—and you will find her—she comes to me unharmed. Anyone who touches her answers to me personally."

I end the call, staring at the pregnancy tests still clutched in my hand. My child. My Ava. Both out there somewhere, unprotected, while threats circle like vultures.

"I'll find you," I promise the empty air, letting the monster rise fully. "Both of you."

And God help anyone who tries to stop me.

Because she might have stolen my heart, might be carrying my heir, but she's forgotten one crucial detail.

I am not the man she knew at sixteen. I am not the love-struck boy who let her slip away once before.

I am the Monster of Chicago.

I open my phone, looking at traffic feeds. She can’t have gone far.

My phone vibrates against the marble counter. Tomasso's name flashes on the screen again.

"Tell me you found her."

"Boss..." His hesitation carries weight. "You might want to sit down for this."

Ice creeps through my veins. In our fifteen years of partnership, Tomasso has never suggested I sit for bad news. "Talk."

"We traced her initial contact before she came to the club. The money trail, the meetings..." He takes a breath. "She was hired by the Fioris. Specifically to infiltrate your organization."

"Keep talking."

"They approached her three months ago. Used her brother's safety as leverage. She was supposed to gather intel on your legitimate businesses, find proof of money laundering through the club."

A laugh tears from my throat, bitter and sharp. "The club. My legitimate business. The one fucking clean thing I built."

"There's more." Tomasso's voice drops lower. "She had a meet scheduled with her handler last night. Two am. She never showed."

The implication hits like a bullet. If she was working for the Fioris and failed to deliver...if she's running from them too...

"She's carrying my child," I say, the words tasting like ash and iron. "And now she's out there alone, pregnant, with the Fioris hunting her."

Silence stretches across the line as Tomasso processes this. Then, carefully: "What do you want me to do?"

What do I want? I want to tear Chicago apart brick by brick until I find her. I want to cage her in luxury that’s so lavish that she'll never think of leaving. I want to make her pay for every lie, every manipulation, every moment I let myself believe in something real.

I want to protect her from everything, including myself.

"She'll run somewhere isolated," I say, forcing myself to think strategically past the rage and betrayal burning in my chest. "Somewhere she thinks we won't look. Check property records in Montana."

"Montana?"

"She talked about it sometimes. Wide open spaces. Fresh air. A chance to start over." The memory of her voice describing her dreams twists something in my chest. "She wouldn't have shared that detail if it wasn't real."

Real. Like her smiles in the morning light. Like the way she held my sister's hand. Like the sound of her laugh when she thought I was being ridiculous.

Like the child growing inside her.

---