Page 32 of Devour
“Oh, before I forget,” she says, pointing at a brown file on my desk. “One of the guards brought this up. Said someone left it in the mailbox. It’s already been scanned—he said it’s safe.”
I nod and reach for the file, I know it from Alessio, it’s how he sends intel.
“Also, I kept your dinner warm in case you change your mind.”
“Alright. You can go rest now, Griselda. I’ll take it from here.”
She gives me one last look, that same motherly concern in her eyes, then turns and leaves the room quietly.
I pull the contents from the file. Inside is Vito’s call log, evidence that he’s been in contact with Romano’s men. One number stands out, flagged with a name I know all too well: Finn, Romano’s second-in-command.
I was right all along. Vito will do anything to see me dead. That shootout—it was an attempt on my life.
He wanted it to look like a random drive-by, a stray bullet meant for someone else. I can already see the headline: “Only heir of the Falcone empire gunned down leaving a nightclub.”
“Fuck,” I mutter, my knuckles tightening around the edge of the paper. I’ve tolerated him this long because he’s my father’s little brother, someone I once looked up to. But I earned this position. I bled for it.
He wants the throne without the scars. It’s time to clip his wings. First, I’ll take out the ones backing him. Strip away his power, his protection.
Without them, he’s nothing but a rotting piece of shit waiting to be scraped off the floor. I flip to the next page and see the name: Ariel Lane.
My mood lifts, just slightly.
Maiden name: Harrison.
Age: Twenty-seven.
I already knew that, so I skimmed ahead.
Mother of: Noah Liam Lane.
That makes me stop cold.
My jaw tightens. She has a child?
Who’s the father?
Is it that damn doctor?
It can’t be.
Age: Seven.
Birthday: November 26th, 2018.
My brain starts to do the math.
Seven years old…
The same year she left.
My eyes widened.
He could be mine.
My hand flies to my hair, dragging through it, rough and unsteady. I need to see him. Now. I shoot up from the chair, not bothering to grab my suit jacket. I storm out of the study, down the hall, and out the front door.
The drive to Ariel’s house feels endless. I can’t think straight. He could be my child, I keep repeating to myself over and over.
