Page 68 of Scars He Gave Me (Bratva Crime Syndicate 2)

His voice instantly confirms my suspicions. “Just the call I’ve been waiting for,” he seethes.

He’s an arrogant bastard. I add him to my mental kill list, picturing him in his office, his thin lips going blue and his scrawny hands scrabbling for purchase as I choke the life out of him. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. Or rather, notcorrectlyintroduced. My name is Peyton Totti.”

This motherfucking liar.

I get it now. I get all of it. He’s Roberto Totti’s son? Nephew? Close family, anyway. A bastard with spaghetti sauce in his veins and my father’s blood on his hands.

“You, all along.”

He laughs. Smug son of a bitch. “Of course it’s been me all along. You knew it. And then you forgave me, enlisted me for help in exchange for your protection. Gave me access to all your family secrets. You made it so easy to hurt you, Tomas.”

His bragging grates. His voice makes my ears bleed.

“I wanted to make you feel secure. That’s why I let you think I solved your problem. Why I let Corinne believe she found the line of script to turn it all around.” He chuckles. “And you both fell for it.”

“I’m going to kill you slowly,” I snap. I mean it. I’m going to make him beg for his. Bring him to the brink of death. Then let him live and start again.

He laughs. “You’d have to find me. And you’ve already proven you aren’t smart enough to find your own ass if you’re allowed to use both hands. So, pardon me if I’m not exactly shaking in my shoes over your threats.”

“We’ll be seeing each other soon.”

“The question, Tomas, is will you find me before or after I destroy your Bratva?”

I squeeze the phone so tight I think it might shatter. “Listen to me, you Italian fuck. Did you know that the first man I killed, I killed with my bare hands? He lied to my father. I was eighteen. It was a quick thing. I hardly broke a sweat. Yours will last two years and it’s going to fucking hurt.”

This dance with him is complicated, the steps intricate, and we’re each trying to lead the other, but I’m going to win because I’m smarter than he is. Maybe not about computers or technology, but about murder, business, and how to strike fear in the hearts of men who underestimate me.

He laughs. “I guess the race is on then.”

He hangs up.

21

Corinne

My parents’ house is small. It was always just the three of us, so space wasn’t a concern. We had the basics. Living room. Eat-in kitchen. Two bedrooms. A room that would’ve been the dining room, but my mom used it for “crafts” she sold online as a side hustle. My whole life, the dining room table was groaning under the weight of her shakra aligners and jade amulets, her dreamcatchers and energy balancing bracelets.

But today, the table is clear. Leila bursts through the living room to set her laptop down on top of it.

She opens the screen and starts typing. “It was all bullshit, Corinne. All of it. Everything we did these last few days was bullshit.”

My stomach goes hollow because I don’t know what she’s talking about. I only know it’s bad.

She spins the laptop so I can see the screen and I’m not sure why she’s showing me the Flash Bomb code database. I scan the screen and four lines down … there it is. One string of code that tells the story.

“It’s a dummy.” A fake. A fraud. A deception.

What I don’t know is why.

“Yes. The son of a bitch had us working on a dummy program while he used the real thing for god knows what. And now, he’s gone. The office is empty. Completely empty. Like nothing was ever there. It’s all gone.”

“What?” The program isn’t the only string of bullshit going on. “Gone?” I need to call Tomas, but first I need to look at this program. “You’re sure this is the one we were working on?”

She nods and crosses her arms. “Of course I’m sure.” She buries her face in her hands. “Can you get Tomas track him down?”

My answer is immediate. “No.”

“Why not?” she exclaims. “You can’t tell me Mr. Tall, Dark, and Russian can’t find someone if he puts his mind to it?” She has her hands on her hips and her feet shoulder-width apart. She wants details and she isn’t leaving until she gets them.

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