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Chapter 37

LOGAN'S POV

I sat in my office, staring at the file Pablo had placed on my desk. Roman's name was at the top, but the information beneath it barely scratched the surface. The guy who grabbed Sapphire was a ghost—no clear identity, no trail to follow. All I had was that girl's shaken description: a tattoo on his neck, some kind of snake or dragon, and the venomous words he spat at Sapphire: Logan killed my brother.

The memory of Sapphire's terrified face when she told me what he did to her was still buried in my mind. That guy wasn't just after her—he wanted revenge. And if I didn't act, he'd come for her again.

I grabbed my phone and called Pablo. He picked up on the first ring. "Any leads on the tattoo?" I asked, skipping pleasantries.

"Nothing concrete," he replied. "But it matches the mark used by one of Roman's old lieutenants, Marco Russo. I'm digging into Marco's family to see if there's a connection."

"Do it fast. I'm meeting Roman tonight. If there's a link, I want it before I walk into that room."
"You sure about this?" Adonis asked, concern lacing his voice. "Roman's not exactly predictable these days."

"I don't care," I snapped. "This ends now."
____

Roman's so-called "office" was a dingy backroom in one of his strip clubs. The stench of cheap perfume and stale smoke clung to the air as I made my way past his guards. They didn't bother searching me; they knew better.

The room was dimly lit, the faint glow of a single overhead bulb casting long shadows across the cold, concrete walls. Roman sat at the head of the table, his smug expression grating on my nerves. His two guards flanked him, their hands resting on their holsters, but I wasn't fazed. I had Pablo with me, and he never missed a step.

"You've got some nerve showing up here, Logan," Roman sneered, leaning back in his chair. "What brings you to my humble corner of the world? Business or pleasure?" He smiled sinisterly then gestures for me to sit just with the wave of his hand.

I didn't sit. Instead, I loomed over him, my tone ice-cold. "I'm here about your man. The one who tried to kill Sapphire."

Roman's smirk widened. "Ah, the lovely Sapphire. I see you're still playing house, Logan. How domestic of you."

Roman raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "I have a lot of men, Logan. You'll have to be more specific."

"Don't play games with me," I growled, slamming my hands on the table in front of him. "He's got a snake or dragon tattoo on his neck. Said I killed his brother. Ring any bells?"

Roman's smirk faltered for a fraction of a second before he composed himself. "Ah, that would be Daniil Russo. Marco's younger brother."

I clenched my fists. Marco Russo—one of Roman's enforcers. I'd taken him out years ago when he refused to back off my territory. It was business, plain and simple. But to Daniil, it was personal.
"Where is he?" I demanded.

Roman chuckled, swirling his whiskey. "Do you really think I'm going to hand him over to you? Daniil's useful to me. Besides, it sounds like you've got a personal grudge to settle. I'd hate to get in the way."

I pulled my gun and aimed it directly at his head. "I'm not asking, Roman."

His guards tensed, but Roman waved them off, his grin widening. "Relax, boys. Logan's not stupid enough to shoot me here. He knows the fallout would be messy."

He was right. I couldn't afford a war with Roman right now, but that didn't mean I wouldn't take him apart if I had to.

"You give me Daniil, or I start tearing through your men until I find him myself," I said, my voice deadly calm.

Roman stared at me for a long moment, then sighed. "Fine. Daniil's been laying low at one of my warehouses on the east side. But if you go after him, it's on your head, Logan. I won't clean up your mess."

I lowered my gun but kept my glare locked on him. "Stay out of this, Roman. Daniil made it personal the moment he came after Sapphire. If he tries again, he won't get another chance."

Roman raised his glass in mock salute as I turned and walked out. "Good luck, Esposito. You're gonna need it."

As I stepped into the cool night air, Pablo was waiting by the car.
"Well?" he asked.

"Daniil's holed up in a warehouse on the east side," I said. "Get the team ready. We're taking him down tonight."

Pablo nodded, his expression grim. "You think Roman's playing us?"

"Doesn't matter," I said, sliding into the driver's seat. "If Daniil wants revenge, he'll get his chance. But it'll be on my terms."

Because no one—no one—threatens Sapphire and lives to tell the tale.
_________

The warehouse was eerily quiet, the air thick with the musty scent of metal and old wood. My men spread out, guns drawn, their footsteps echoing through the empty space. I kept my Glock steady, every nerve on edge as I scanned the shadows for movement.

Pablo's voice crackled through the earpiece. "Clear on my end. No sign of Daniil."

I cursed under my breath, frustration boiling over. Roman had lied. Or Daniil had been tipped off. Either way, this was a dead end.

"Keep looking," I ordered, though I knew it was pointless. My gut told me Daniil wasn't here, but I wasn't leaving without answers.

I moved deeper into the warehouse, past rows of abandoned crates and rusting equipment. Then I saw it—a single chair in the middle of the room, lit by a flickering overhead bulb. A taunt, plain as day.

On the chair sat a folded piece of paper, weighed down by a switchblade. I snatched it up, my jaw tightening as I read the scrawled message:

"You took my brother. I'll take her. This isn't over, Esposito."

Pablo appeared at my side, his face grim as he read over my shoulder. "This guy's got guts, I'll give him that."

"He's got a death wish," I snapped, crumpling the note in my fist. "Pack it up. He's not here."

Back at the house, the weight of the night bore down on me. I stepped inside, immediately greeted by the soft hum of baby monitors. Sapphire's laughter floated down the hall, light and warm, and for a moment, it eased the tension in my chest.

But then the note came back to me, and the danger she was still in.

I found her in the nursery, sitting in the rocking chair with Amirah in her arms. She looked up when I entered, her smile faltering at the sight of my expression. "What happened?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.

I crouched beside her, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "The warehouse was empty. Daniil's is still out there."

Her grip on Amirah tightened, fear flickering in her eyes. "What do we do now?"

"I'll handle it," I said firmly. "You don't need to worry about anything."

She shook her head, her voice trembling. "Logan, this isn't just about me anymore. The twins—"
"I know," I interrupted, my tone softening. "That's why I'm going to end this. For good."

She looked at me for a long moment, then nodded. "Just... promise me you'll come back. I can't do this without you."

I leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I promise."

But as I held her close, the weight of that promise settled heavily on my shoulders. Because the truth was, I wouldn't stop until Matteo Russo was dead—even if it meant not coming back.

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