Albert
I answered the call as the car sped through the city. It was from one of my subordinates who had accompanied Carmleo to Lorenzo's birthday party.
"We have a situation," he began, his voice low and urgent.
My heart sank. "What is it?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
"Mia is at Lorenzo's party," he said, his voice filled with a grim determination. "She looks like she's been through hell."
Anger surged through me, a cold, calculating fury. Lorenzo had crossed a line, and I was going to make him pay, but more that than, I was pissed of that Mia hadn't thought to tell me that there was even a danger.
Was she in danger?
What did he mean that she looked like she'd been through hell, and how had she gotten in such a state?
Did it matter? My mind raced, the implications of the
