Page 134 of Forged

Rowan is standingat the end of the conference table talking about something related to financial routing when my phone vibrates against the polished wood in front of me. Normally, I would ignore it. Enzo hates interruptions during meetings, and most people who work for this family understand that if something is important enough to interrupt us, they’ll call twice.

But as Violette’s name flashes across the screen, something cold sinks into my chest. She and Neomi were going shopping this morning.

I pick up the phone before the second vibration finishes.

“Vi?”

“Are you at the estate?” she asks, and the tension in her voice has the bile rising in my throat.

“Yes, what’s wrong?”

Enzo turns, his eyes focused on me, his jaw tight.

“Are you with Enzo?”

My grip tightens around the phone. “Yes, what happened?”

A brief pause stretches across the line.

“Neomi’s car exploded.”

For a split second, my brain refuses to process the words. Fear courses through my veins.

“What? Vi, was she in the car?”

“No, thank God,” Violette says quickly. “Listen to me, Lars, she’s alive. Your girl is a little banged up, but she’s okay.”

The air rushes back into my lungs in a violent gasp.

“Where is she?”

“Northwestern Memorial,” she replies.

“I’m on my way.”

I’m already moving before I hang up the call. My chair scrapes loudly across the floor as I stand.

Enzo rises with me. “Lars, what happened?”

I’m already heading for the door. “Neomi’s car exploded.”

The room goes completely silent.

“Is she alive?”

“Yes. Fuck, Enzo, I need to get to her.”

Dante is already grabbing his jacket.

Enzo moves past me with quiet authority, his voice cutting cleanly through the stunned silence left behind in the room. “Rowan, lock everything down. I want eyes on every camera between here and that hospital. No delays or blind spots.”

Chairs scrape. Orders ripple outward. The machine starts moving.

I don’t stay to hear the rest. My pulse is too loud, too fast, every beat slamming hard against my ribs as we move through the halls. Doors open ahead of us before we reach them, security already falling into place around us.

Enzo grips my shoulder as we step into the garage, his voice low and controlled, anchoring. “She’ll be okay, Fratello. I’ll get you to her as fast as I can.”

“I know,” I say, but the words don’t process. They don’t stick. They don’t settle the storm tearing through me. “I know, but?—”