Page 12 of Devour
He gets all the intel that we need. I frown because I didn't expect to see him here. He always has his head stuck in a computer somewhere, this can’t be good, “I step up to him, jaw tightening. “Alessio.”
He adjusts his glasses, anxious energy flickering behind his eyes.
“One of my sources says the FBI started a new operation,” Alessio says, voice low.
“They’re planting moles in every major organization. Ours included.”
My silence is its weight. As if I didn’t already have enough shit piling up, now I’ve got to worry about a fucking rat crawling through my walls. I exhale slowly, my jaw clenched.
“Did your source say if they’ve made contact with anyone in our crew yet?”
“Not confirmed. But they’re close. Real close.”
Perfect. A turf war with the Italian on one end, and the Feds sniffing around on the other. This isn’t pressure. This is a fucking noose tightening.
“Start digging,” I say, voice clipped. “I want names, timelines, wire transfers, dead drops, anything that doesn’t add up.” Alessio nods.
“Already on it.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ariel
The hospital room is warm, dimly lit, and reeks of antiseptic. Noah lies in the bed, a tangle of IV tubes snaking from his arm.
He looks small and fragile, like a shadow of the bright kid he used to be. Just last month, he was diagnosed with Juvenile Myelocore Syndrome. The doctors caught it early, but that hasn’t made the fight any easier.
Since then, I’ve been in and out of this hospital more times than I can count—sleep-deprived, stretched thin, picking up every part-time job I can find just to keep up with the bills.
Every beep of the monitor is a reminder of the weight pressing down on me. I adjust the blanket around his IV line carefully, trying not to wake him.
“Hey, baby,” I whispered, brushing the curls from his forehead. Soft. Always so soft, even now. His lashes fluttered, slow and sleepy.
“Mom?”
I bent down and kissed his cheek. “Shhh. I’m here. Go back to sleep.” But he was already trying to sit up, his voice a hoarse whisper.
“I miss you.”
God, that voice. So small. So freaking brave. I dragged the chair closer and sat beside him, taking his tiny hand in mine.
“I miss you too, baby.” I reached behind me, pulling out a small plush dinosaur from the plastic bag I’d been hiding. “Look what I got you.”
His face lights up as he reaches for it. I had it sterilized and cleared by his doctor before bringing it in—no risks, not with Noah. I know how much he loves dinosaurs. His room at home is filled with them—paintings, toys, posters. A whole prehistoric world just for him.
“It’s a tiny T-Rex! I love it, Mom. Thank you!” he beams, clutching it to his chest like it’s the most precious thing in the world. I smile and gently tickle his side.
“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”
“Baby, Dr. Eli said you had some trouble eating today. That’s why you have to take the nutrient IV drip, okay?”
“Yes,” Noah mumbles, eyes downcast. “I tried to eat, but… it didn’t taste good.”
“I know, baby.” I brush a strand of hair from his forehead. “But you have to keep trying, even if it’s hard. So, you’ll get better for Mommy. Okay? Promise me?”
“Promise,” he whispers, giving a small, tired nod.
There’s a pause. He clutches the little dinosaur tighter, then looks up at me with those wide, thoughtful eyes.
