Page 114 of Intense
"He is," I cut in. "Well—his men are."
Enzo nods. "Yes. But he has men everywhere now. It works differently than us. It’s not mafia—it’s a fucking religion. And the one at the top? A ghost. But I’m confident by continuing the games—he’ll come out of hiding. And then we’ll have a real war on our hands."
I drain my drink.
I knew something was off. Always trust my gut.
“We killed his logistics guy.”
He runs his tongue along his teeth.
“I know. I don’t think we have long before this explodes. We need London dealt with.”
"So, I’m bait?" I smirk.
"In a way, yes. But think of it this way—it’s the only way to take down the largest, most unknown sex trafficking ring this country’s ever seen."
I take a breath. That’s the point of Inferno. Of Decadence.
Our chocolate factory is our sweet haven. Yet behind the gates—it’s merely an illusion.
A trap. A weapon. A sanctuary for vengeance.
"We have more games planned for next year. The twins will run one together. Then Drago steps up."
"Keep Drago on your side. Don’t let him go back to Russia."
I raise a brow. "What exactly was his role in Russia?"
Drago’s past is hazy. But he has his hands in everything. He’s lived a hell of a life.
"What wasn’t it? He’s worked for many families over the years. They saw him as an asset—but he wasn’t evil enough. He has morals. Lines he won’t cross. That backfired. But, if we’re right and The Preacher has ties there somehow. We need him and his contacts."
Makes sense.
Which is why he fits here. Another set of fists to keep our families safe.
"So, my plan—take out the Bowens in London as soon as I can. Hopefully within the month. Once that’s done, we’ll have allies there too. Then yes—we’ll help take down The Preacher. All of us."
Enzo raises his glass. "I like this. I’ll keep digging on them. We need to move fast and stay quiet. Let’s hold off on any more murders. We keep them alive."
"I agree. But they’ll never talk. He was spouting crap about going to heaven for keeping silent."
I check the time on my Rolex. Shift starts in an hour.
"There’s one more thing."
"Go on."
"This year’s games are ready to go. But with London and now The Preacher—I can’t run them and handle the murders too. We’ve got sway in the hospital, but that only lasts so long before people talk."
He swirls the ice in his glass.
"We don’t want you burning out, do we?" he says with sarcasm.
"Not really. I’m not superhuman, Enzo. And quitting my real job? Non-negotiable."
I narrow my eyes. He needs to understand. I’m not stepping away from the hospital. Nor Stephanie.
