Page 108 of Enzo
Iwaited until my wife stopped tossing and turning before I got out of bed, dressed in all black, and slipped out of the house.
Driving soundlessly through the Sicilian night while the city slept, I hardened at the thought of what I was about to do. I’d already infiltrated the business in West Africa and my next move would eliminate his accomplices here.
There was no going back.
Pulling up in front of the same docks where Atticus made his first mistake, I turned off the engine and exited the car, leaving the door open.
It was time I punished those who were supposed to cure Amara. Digging through Atticus’s data, I found a familiar name. The one that had been responsible for caring for my young sister-in-law, but instead he betrayed her in the worst possible way.
He betrayed us all.
So, after the funeral, I had Amadeo track him down. He’d provided the location pin and only departed once I’d headed this way.
This would be an action I would take alone, and thankfully my brother knew me well enough to understand I needed this.
My combat boots were silent against the ground as I made my way to the warehouse’s single entrance. A dim light flickered through the cracks of the cheap metal door.
I detected the smell of bleach and copper and pushed the door open, the heavy clang screeching through the silence as death greeted me.
“Hello, Dr. Gvozden.” The doctor startled, dropping his surgical knife and staining his lab coat with his traitorous blood. “And I’m guessing you’re Dr. Milan.”
“Who are you?” the latter asked.
I smiled coldly. “Your worst nightmare. And that’s saying something, considering the scene you’ve got here.”
“Th-this isn’t what it l-looks like,” Dr. Gvozden stammered.
The doctors’ eyes darted around, probably searching for a way out, but unless they decided to jump into the freezing sea for a little midnight swim, they wouldn’t get away. There was no way out.
“You don’t say,” I drawled. “Then do explain to me what this is, and while you’re at it, tell me more about your relationship with Atticus Popov. Or at least what it used to be.” The smile on my face would have sent a saint running.
I glanced around the room, dominated by stainless-steel tables and hooks, a flickering overhead light, a dead body, and a briefcase full of cash in the corner by a rusty old sink.
I sneered when he remained silent.
“See, I think this isexactlywhat it looks like.” A butcher shop that nightmares were made of. “What do you say, Dr. Milan?”
He flicked a nervous look at his partner, then back at me. “I had no choice.”
My eyebrows arched. “No choice to do what?”
He waved his knife in the air. “All this. They threatened my life. I had no choice.”
I scoffed. “There’s always a choice.”
And I was making one right now.
“Why are you here?” Dr. Gvozden dared to ask, stepping closer to the metal table. A young man lay there—unconscious and pale—with IVs hooked in both arms, part of his body already missing organs and the rest marked for incisions. From the looks of it, there wouldn’t be a single organ wasted.
“Haven’t you heard?” I drawled. “I’m your new boss.”
Dr. Gvozden froze, his knife paused in midair. “Wh-what?”
“What does that mean?” Dr. Milan asked, his eyes bouncing like a ping-pong ball.
I sighed. “I really fucking hate when people are slow.”
“S-sorry, boss.” Dr. Milan was already desperate to please. “Right, Dr. Gvozden? We’re sorry.”
