Page 71 of Deadly Wrath

“It’s not what you fucking think,” Gio snaps, shoving her into the back seat like a pissed-off babysitter, buckling her in like a damn kid—hell, maybe she is.

Looks exactly like what I think, but I bite my tongue. Gio’s not that guy. If he were, I’d have put him six feet under by now. He barks something at the driver, and theSUV peels out, tires grinding against the gravel like they’re as pissed as he is.

Gio turns back, rolling up his sleeves, letting the ink on his forearms show. His eyes narrow on me, and whatever the hell that was, it’s gone now, and he’s all business.

“Don’t ask,” Gio sighs, clearly looking frustrated.

“Wasn’t gonna,” I reply, waiting for him to start talking about the real reason I’m here.

“Franco’s inside,” he says, flexing his fists. “A dozen girls. All young, too young. My men have eyes on him, but he’s running the whole show.”

“How many buyers? All men?” I ask, my jaw tightening.

“Twice as many buyers as girls,” Gio mutters, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Mostly men, but some women too. Women are easier to recruit and groom. They’re worse than the men.”

My stomach churns. Twisted fucks. Most people assume trafficking is just men, but once you’ve seen this world up close, you realize how many women play their part too. They make the girls feel safe before dragging them deep into hell. That shit’s colderthan anything I’ve ever done.

The back entrance swings open without a sound, and I step in first with Gio at my side. Kota and Gio’s second, Dash, are right behind us. Gio’s men are scattered inside, blending in as fake buyers, while the rest wait outside, ready to storm in if shit goes south.

The place reeks of sweat and sex. These bastards don’t even bother taking the girls anywhere decent to fuck them. The place is dark, except for the strobe lights focused on a makeshift stage at the far end. Probably where they used to set up for bands, but now it’s something vile. The light flashes on the girl stepping out. She can’t be older than eighteen, and she’s trying to smile like this isn’t the worst moment of her life.

Some greasy bastard with yellow teeth grabs a mic, calling her Jess. She perks up when he opens the bidding at fifty grand, like she believes she’s getting that money, and my stomach knots.

“She thinks she’s getting paid?” I ask Gio without looking away. “At least most of it,” Gio whispers back. “But Franco pockets almost everything.”

“Fuck!” I turn to him, feeling my grip on my temper starting to slip.

“None of them know,” Gio says darkly. “Franco hooks them with promises of easy cash, untouched girls bring in top dollar. But they leave with barely enough for a rideshare home, if they’re lucky,” he says, shaking hishead. “Some get passed to sex rings, whorehouses, or dumped on the streets to work off what they owe. They never see a fucking dime.”

My fists curl tight. These fuckers deserve worse than death. “And they come back?”

“They want their cut,” Gio says bitterly. “He strings them along. One more time, more money next time.By the time they realize they’re screwed, it’s too late. They’re already sold off.”

A scam’s one thing but this is just fucking sick, and it needs to be gutted at the source. My eyes zero in on Franco across the room. He’s lounging back like a king, with some blonde draped over his lap. Her expression is vacant. She’s either given up completely or is high on something. All while his fat gut hangs over the edge of his pants, straining against the fabric of a white button-down that looks ready to burst at the seams.

I want to rip him apart, piece by piece, until that smug face is nothing but blood and regret.

Fucking disgrace.He’s a smear on the Italian name.

Then he sees me, and I know he knows exactly who I am. That flicker of panic flashes across Franco’s face before he schools it, pretending to stay calm as his fingers move quickly over his phone, texting someone, like I don’t notice. Nice try, asshole. I lean against thewall, arms crossed, letting the moment sink in. Gio’s men start clearing the place.

Buyers are yelling over each other like panicked fucking animals, chairs scraping, drinks spilling, but not a single one has the balls to throw a punch or resist. Gio’s guys are bulldozing through the room with their guns drawn, clearing out the place. The assholes who were all smug and flashing cash ten minutes ago are now pissing themselves trying to run, waving their hands in the air, pretending like they weren’t just trying to buy underage girls.

Some of the girls scream, others stand there like they’ve gone numb and look dead in their eyes. They’re crying, clutching what little they’re wearing, but you can see the relief on their faces.

About fifteen of Gio’s men start grabbing them, probably with more gentleness than anyone’s shown them in weeks. Throwing coats over shoulders, just getting them the fuck out of here.

Then there’s Franco, sitting like the fucking king of sleaze with the girl still on his lap and that bullshit smirk. But I see that split-second of panic before he hides behind his smug mask. He pulls out his phone again, texting God knows who, like I’m too fucking stupid to catch on to what he’s doing. One of Gio’s guys grabs the blonde off his lap, and Franco tenses like he might saysomething, but he doesn’t. The girl doesn’t even glance back. She stands up, like her legs were just waiting for the signal to move, and when she’s ushered toward the exit, she goes quickly, as if she stops for one second, she might not get out alive.

I push off the wall, stepping toward him. “Franco Bianchi.” His eyes dart around, searching for a way out. Yeah, good luck with that. He’s never been on my radar, but he’s been on Gio’s.

“You’ve been sending underage girls to my casino.” My tone is deadly calm. “You thought I wouldn’t notice?”

He tries to play it cool with a shitty grin that barely holds. “You meanmycasino.”

I scoff. “The fuck makes you think it’s yours?”

The color drains from his face. I’m done with this bullshit. I shove him hard against the wall, my hand wrapping around his throat. His breath stutters, but he’s trying to act tough, but he’s already breaking.

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