and despair. All her attempts to comfort him were met with silence.
“Satisfied?” Oscar demanded.
“And they never left the suite?” Devon turned to Andre.
“No, sir.”
“No calls from the hotel landline?”
“We monitor those. Any calls and we would have known right away,” Devon said.
“I didn’t contact them. I…” Luca’s bowed head rose, and anger made his features sharp, more angular somehow. “I joined you…I trusted you to keep her safe. And now she’s, she’s…”
Milo snarled something. Owen yanked his phone from his pocket, and Devon surveyed the room.
“If you didn’t contact them…” Owen’s thumbs were flying over the screen. “Then we need to know who did. It might mean there’s a traitor in the Masters’ Admiralty side of the MPF.”
“And,” Selene said, “we need to know where they went.”
“New plan,” Owen said. “This is no longer a raid. It’s a rescue mission.” He looked up. “Everyone have their passports?”
“Why?” Oscar demanded.
“We’re going back to Italy. All of us.”
Chapter Seventeen
Luca didn’t pray—they’d beaten any belief in a higher power out of him long ago—but on the seemingly endless trip from Boston to Rome, he hoped that his sister wasn’t in too much pain.
The compound had been abandoned and booby-trapped. Somehow, they had discovered his betrayal, which meant Joli was no longer safe. The Bellator Dei wouldn’t hesitate to punish his sister for his crimes. He’d learned that lesson the hard way when his love affair with Roberto had been revealed. Signore and Signora Campisi had been quick to threaten Joli’s future in order to force his obedience and compliance. God only knew what they’d do to her now.
Selene and Oscar had both tried to assure him she was probably fine, but their words had felt hollow, offering no reassurance or comfort. Eventually, they fell silent and left him to his thoughts.
They landed at a small airport outside of Rome. Luca practically flew down the steps from the large private jet. A man and a woman, both wearing polo shirts with an emblem he recognized—that of Cohortes Praetorianae—were waiting near two black SUVs.
Milo, who had been Luca’s point of contact when he’d worked for Cohortes Praetorianae for years, walked over to them.
Luca wasn’t aware that he’d stopped dead until Oscar bumped into him from behind.
“Luca?” Selene was at his side, and she laid a hand on his arm.
He stared at Milo. Could it be that simple?
“What did you just figure out?” Selene was peering at his face.
“I…” Luca squashed the hope blossoming inside him. Hope was dangerous. “I need Owen.”
“Owen,” Oscar called out.
The FBI agent turned around, examined their little tableau, and walked over, his steps quick. “What’s going on?”
“Who…who helped you enter the compound? Them?” Luca jerked his chin toward Milo and the two other Cohortes Praetorianae staff.
Owen shook his head. “No. The MPF, but Cohortes Praetorianae staff assisted with logistics—airport pickups, physical recon to ensure that our planned approaches matched what we could see with satellite surveillance.”
Luca exhaled and relief made him weak. He leaned back against Oscar, who stiffened to help support his body weight. “I know how they knew. And it wasn’t me.” Luca briefly closed his eyes.
“How?” Owen snapped. “Wait. Milo, come here.”
Something in Owen’s tone made Milo whip around and then jog, not walk, toward them. “What’s wrong with him?” Milo asked.
Luca stood up so he wasn’t leaning against Oscar. “I think I know how they were alerted.”
Milo shifted his body weight ever so slightly, but in that micromovement, it was clear he was ready to fight if needed.
“The Bellator Dei know that Cohortes Praetorianae is a part of the Masters’ Admiralty.”
Milo bristled. “What do you mean?”
“The benefactor told them, the leaders. It was why I was allowed to move off the compound and get a job—so that I could find a way to make you my client.” Luca gestured at Milo. “They monitor your company.” He didn’t admit that the “they” in that sentence was actually his sister. “If they learned you were suspicious of them, sending people to do surveillance…”
“Fucking Petro told them about us,” Milo snarled. “Why didn’t you tell us this before? Why didn’t you tell us everything they knew about us?”
Luca heard the unspoken accusation that went along with the two voiced questions. What else are you hiding?
“You didn’t ask,” Luca said simply. “I answered all your questions in Boston, but it wasn’t until now, until I saw them,” he gestured to the people by the vehicles, “that I remembered.”
“The devil is always in the details,” Owen breathed. “Okay. Clearly you need to