Page 16 of Wrathful King
Dante pushed his hand through his hair, tugging on the strands. “You know I’d started to receive videos of Father’s body parts.” I nodded. “Remember when video clips were coming?” I nodded. “In one of the latter ones, I got wind that Reina was directly involved in it. I even got a snippet of Reina with Father’s dead body.”
I shook my head. “Father attacked Reina in her apartment. How would anyone get that on video?”
Dante let out a dry laugh. “How would anyone have shit on Konstantin? On Marchetti? We were all getting videos. Well, except for you.”
“I felt so fucking left out,” I remarked sarcastically. “You still have that video?”
“They’re designed to vanish after the receiver has played it.”
“Did you ever show it to anyone before it disappeared?” I questioned. I sure as hell hoped he didn’t show it to Marchetti.
His eyes narrowed. “That’s hardly the point.”
“Dante,” I hissed.
“No, never. And I’ll tell Marchetti that I was pissed off and made up the whole thing about her killing Father.”
“He won’t buy it.” Marchetti wasn’t dumb. Far from it. Tension rolled through me at his blindness. “The intent of those videos was to stir trouble among all the allies, including our own. I wonder what’s being held over Romero’s head.”
Dante shrugged. “What do we care? Romero’s hardly an ally.”
That might be, but he was Reina’s papà—fuck, my biological father—and we should know what sins he was hiding.
“Maybe, but he’s been helping dismantle flesh trading. It’s hurting Itsuki, my idiot cousin. The Brazilians. And let’s not forget Sofia Volkov.” I’d had enough of this spiraling conversation. I had to find a way to get to Reina. “Let’s table this for now. Besides, it’s not like he didn’t deserve it.”
“Fine, but this isn’t over. Reina, who never had to endure what we did, shouldn’t have had to get her hands bloody. She shouldn’t have been involved at all. It should have beenme.”
Yes, the ghost of Angelo Leone still haunted us.
I heard muffled arguing outside my office.
Dante and I locked gazes, both of us drawing our guns just seconds before the door swung open. A stone-faced Tomaso Romero spilled into the room with clenched fists, his arm around one of my men.
“Where are my daughters?” he bellowed, his gun pointed at Cesar’s temple.
It took a moment for the word to register.
Daughters. Plural. Shit!
7
AMON
“We tried to stop him, but he shot two of your men,” Cesar gritted through clenched teeth.
A grim smile tipped the corners of my mouth and I nodded.
“If he was able to penetrate these grounds, they deserve to be shot.” Glancing at Romero, I pinned him with a stare that could kill. “How did you find this place?”
Straightening his suit jacket, he offered Dante a passing glance before returning his attention back to me. “Where are my daughters?” he asked again, ignoring my question.
I looked behind him, not bothering to stand. “It’s okay, Cesar. You can go.”
Dante’s right-hand man scowled. “I’m not leaving you with this—”
“Shut the door behind you,” I stated calmly. He shot me a disapproving look before leaving without another word.
“Where are they?” Romero exploded, crossing the room in three long strides.
