Page 59 of Brox Boar

“You mean kidnapped? What the fuck you’re talking about?” I shriek, my voice rising despite my control.

“What the hell, man?” I turn and see Rio with his brows knit, towel wrapped around his hips, water still on his shoulders, his hair slicked back in dark strands.

Lana follows him, wrapped in a towel, her hair wet, the ends dripping onto her collarbone. She pauses in the threshold between hallway and living space, her gaze flicking between us with that careful, uncertain tracking she does when she senses a shift.

I don’t answer him directly. I don’t soften my face for Lana. I don’t adjust for anyone. I just turn the speaker on. I tap the icon with my finger, and Waddington’s breathing fills the room.

I put on my nicer voice, the one that’s polite in a way that feels condescending even when I mean it to sound calm.

“Waddington,” I say, “please tell my brother, who’s now listening to this conversation, what you just told me.”

On speaker, Waddington sounds even smaller.

“We–uh–we think we came up with something. We think you were born in Chicago, and brought to Miami.”

Rio’s face changes. His mouth tightens first. Then his eyes sharpen. Then something colder settles behind them, a locked-door look.

Lana stands very still. Her hands hold the towel at her chest. Her lips part slightly, then close again, as though she thinks about speaking and decides not to.

“What do you mean ‘brought to Miami’?” Rio asks.

“We’re not sure about that part,” Waddington says quickly. “Theo–one of my advisors–he’s from Chicago. I sent him there to investigate.”

Waddington stops to take a breath. The pause lasts too long, and my rage spikes.

“Start talking,” I snarl at the cell, “or I’ll come over there and pull out your tongue, so you learn what breaks to take between sentences.”

Lana flinches. It’s small, barely a shift, yet I see it. Rio sees it too. His head tilts a fraction toward her, protective without moving.

On speaker, Waddington swallows audibly.

“Um–I apologize, Mr. Boar. What I was going to say is–Theo will find out the details. And the minute he’s back, I’ll call you.”

“I want the second you hear the news,” I snap. “Clear?”

“Y-yes.”

He hesitates again, and Rio’s gaze lifts to me—a silent command to hold it together.

Waddington clears his throat.

“Um–Mr. Boar?”

“Yes?” I bark.

“What do I tell Alessio Sorrentino? He’s been asking questions, and I don’t want to have to explain things to him unless I’m certain.”

Rio’s jaw flexes.

“What kind of questions?” he asks.

“About the will being enforced.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“Nothing. I need more time to investigate your case.”

“Good,” he says. “Keep it that way. And keep us updated.” Rio ends the call on my behalf.