The world would burn until we got her back.
“Which Clan took her?” I asked the bound Albanian cowering before me. This strip club was the third location we’d visited. First, an Albanian owned liquor store. Second, a pawnshop. Neither had returned any promising information, but both were now smouldering embers.
The Albanians operated through family Clans. Similar to the Italian mafia, the Russian Bratva, and the Irish Mob, the Clans ran on a strict hierarchy of vertical leadership. Except there were dozens of Clans with varying ranges of power. Unlike the mafia, the Clans operated mostly independently of one another, which spread out their power and kept them from growing into formidable threats like other large-scale criminal organizations. It was how the Camorra had maintained its practical monopoly over Europe. The Albanians could never consolidate enough power to present a genuine threat.
We knew Leona’s kidnappers were Albanian, but we did not know which Clan targeted her.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” he spluttered.
Ryuji and Caspian matched my rage. We were covered in blood and ash from our rampage. We left dozens of bodies in our wake. I’d barely wasted time calling in cleanup crews before moving onto the next location on my list. It didn’t matter. We had to get her back. None of us had slept, and we’d need to return to the penthouse soon, but not until we gotsomethingwe could use.
Behind me, my brothers were dousing the entire building in gasoline. We’d quickly dismissed the dancers—most looked thankful although frightened—along with the regular employees, and rounded up the men clearly in charge. In the back, we’d found sedative drugs we suspected they were using to loop women into trafficking. Two of the women were high out of their minds, practically begging for a fix.
It was a common ploy. Get them addicted, force them into debt, promise them a way out if they worked in the trade. Despicable.
“I will not ask again.”
The man was barely conscious. His blood, and the blood of the other men who worked here, coated my knuckles. I pressed the blade of my skinning knife to the soft skin under his jaw. It had already found plenty of use tonight.
“I’m going to kill you either way. Give me an answer I can use, and it will be quick.”
He looked up at me through swollen black eyes. “Not my Clan.”
I sighed, pressing the knife firmer against his throat. A line of red dripped down his skin. “Who?”
“Just kill me.”
“Give me a name.”
He closed his eyes, decision made.
I pulled my knife from his throat. After a few moments, the man opened his eyes, confused that he wasn’t bleeding out yet.
“You’re not going to kill me?”
I nodded to Ryuji, who dumped the rest of the gasoline in his tank over the man’s head. We both stepped back while I pulled a lighter from my pocket.
“Oh, I will. You will burn.”
We didn’t have time to waste on men who would give us nothing. I tossed the flame onto the trail Caspian had made, and together the three of us watched the strip club go up in flames.
I relished the screams.
“Any news?”I asked Ciel on the phone.
“I’ve narrow—I’ve narrowed down the trajectory of their ship, but I don’t have exact coordinates. The ship has disabled its GPS tracker, which I thought might happen since they’re trafficking illegally. The s—The satellites are not in alignment, so I can’t visually confirm yet.” His frustration echoed down the phone.
Ryuji and Caspian looked at me with hope in their eyes, and I shook my head. “Understood. We’re arriving at the next location now. We’ll head back to the penthouse after this one. Any other news?”
“I’m still trac—I’m still tracing which Clan owns Adriatik, and I’m still trying to reestablish connection with her tracker.” He took a deep, slow breath. His words were careful. “They’re blocking it somehow. I don’t know if I’ll be able to find her while the jammer is active.”
My hand dragged down my face. I was doing my best to maintain control over this situation, but if there was a signal jammer near her, it was firmlyoutsidemy control.
I’d never felt so unmoored.
So frightened.
I hadn’t even felt this way when the boy of my past died in my place, or when my sister accused me of becoming a monster. I’d spent my life cultivating control in even the most high-pressure situations, but I felt like spider-cracked glass. One wrong move and I’d shatter.
