Page 106 of Enzo
Jamie glanced at me, and I nodded at Mitchell’s computer. Without missing a beat, he tapped his pocket where his phone was tucked. “Already on it. In fact…” He pulled the phone free and set it down on the desk next to the monitor, angling the screen so we could see the upload in progress—ninety-eight percent. Whatever Mitchell had on that machine—records, video, names—Jamie copied it all: every keystroke, file, and dark secret buried in folders. He’d told us it would track the dark web shit as well, and that was way over my head.
“Nearly there,” Jamie said, calm and focused. The seconds dragged, the bar inching forward until it hit one hundred percent. A quiet chime sounded. Jamie gave a slight nod. “Got it all.”
He didn’t gloat. He didn’t need to. Fuck knows where he’d gotten those skills from, but at that moment, we owned Mitchell. Not just his life but his leverage. His backups. Everything he thought made him untouchable had been dragged into the light.
I looked down at Mitchell. His expression faltered for the first time, a flicker of real fear tightening around his eyes. His arrogance had cracked. He knew what we had now, and he knew there was no bargaining left.
“You think you have all the power now?” Mitchell wheezed, his voice barely audible. “You don’t understand who you’re dealing with.”
“Names,” I said, pressing the barrel of the gun to his temple. “Now.”
“It’s too big a list to give you?—”
“Just the ones who hurt Roman Lowe,” I said and leaned closer, pressing harder with the gun, forcing his head back a little as Rio tightened the garrote. This wasn’t string; it was metal coated with tiny barbs and smelling of kerosene.
Mitchell’s gaze darted between the three of us, calculating, desperate. “Kessler,” he finally spat. “Marcus Kessler.”
Rio twisted the garrote more, making Mitchell gasp, his eyes bulging. “And the other?”
“He’ll kill me if I?—”
Jamie flicked the lighter again, holding the flame dangerously close to Mitchell’s accelerant-soaked sleeve. The firelight danced across his face, highlighting a gleam in his eye that sent a shiver down my spine.
“You know this stuff eats through more than just clothes,” Jamie said, his tone far too casual. “Give it another ten seconds; it’ll bubble through the upholstery. Want a demonstration?”
Mitchell went rigid, and the smirk he wore earlier had gone.
“You’re insane,” he hissed, voice shaking.
Jamie just smiled wider as if the words were a compliment. “Takes one to catch one.”
“A second name,” I demanded, but Mitchell pressed his lips in a tight line.
“Name!” Rio twisted the cord a fraction tighter as blood began to bead.
Sweat beaded on Mitchell’s forehead, trickling down his temples. “Lassiter. Edward Lassiter
“You’re lying.” I stepped back, the gun feeling heavier in my hand. “That can’t be right. Lassiter is?—”
“A federal prosecutor,” Rio finished, his expression hardening. “High-profile anti-trafficking cases.”
Jamie whistled, his lighter still dancing between his fingers. “Well, shit. That explains a lot.”
Mitchell’s laugh was ragged, blood now running in thin lines down his neck where the barbed cord cut deeper. “You’re in over your head. Lassiter has judges in his pocket. Police chiefs. You think you can touch him?”
I leaned in, my voice dropping to a whisper. “You didn’t think I could touch you either.”
His eyes widened just a fraction, real fear flickering in them now.
“We’re not finished,” I cut in, voice flat. “These two—Kessler and Lassiter—they’re the only ones? The only ones who hurt Roman?”
“Yes,” Mitchell croaked. “Just them. I swear. Kessler handled the money, and Lassiter provided protection. Political cover. I didn’t fuck Roman, okay, it was them. All I did was lock him up to keep him safe.”
“You kept him chained up for eight years,” Rio snapped and buried his knife in Mitchell’s shoulder. Mitchell screamed, and through his sobbing, we heard him try to justify what he’d done.
“It… was for… his own… p—protection,” Mitchell mumbled as if he believed what he was saying. “If they knew what I’d stolen from them, knew he was remembering everything I showed him… everything they talked about in front of him… I had to let them have him… I chained… so they couldn’t t-take him.”
Rio loosened the garrote, allowing Mitchell to take a shuddering breath before tightening it again and removing the knife with a sideways yank, blood spurting after the blade.
