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“Antonio got a call from his cousin, who’s a nurse at the hospital. She recognized Giulio when she was roped into doing a shady job.”
When Elio pauses, I snap, “Is he alive?”
“Renzo,” he groans.
No.
An icy sensation rushes through me, and it’s followed by a ruthless pain tearing through my heart.
Elio clears his throat, then says, “You have to get here now.”
“We’re a couple of minutes out,” I say, my tone coated with the ice filling my chest.
He’s not dead.
He’s only twenty.
I’ve done everything to protect him.
Giulio’s not dead.
There’s no way.
My mind keeps reeling, and when we pull up to the entrance of the alley, I shove the Bentley’s door open, and the moment my feet touch the ground, I break out into a run.
“Where are you?” I growl into the phone.
“I see you,” he answers as he comes into view.
When I reach him, we rush past dumpsters lining the side of the alley until it opens up to an empty lot. An unmarked truck is surrounded by my men.
“It’s fucked up, Renzo,” Elio says. “Brace yourself.”
My eyes flick to my right-hand man. “For what?”
He shakes his head, his complexion gray, and it looks like he’s about to puke.
As we approach the open door at the side of the truck, he says, “Organ trafficking.”
Living in a world of crime, I know exactly what that means.
Destructive rage fills every inch of my being until it feels like my body is vibrating.
There’s no bracing myself, and when I climb the four steps and enter the truck, the air is knocked from my lungs.
The inside of the truck has been rigged into a mobile surgical unit.
Antonio, one of my men, is standing next to a woman who I assume is his cousin.
Two bodies of unknown men lie on the floor. Cooler boxes are set out on a table, and then my eyes lock on Guilio’s body.
Christ.
I’ve seen a lot of shit, but the sight makes my stomach churn, and I struggle not to puke.
There’s a cut running from the top of his chest all the way down to his abdomen.
“I tried to stitch him up,” the nurse says with a trembling voice.
