Sixty eight

Dave’s POV

I was still furious, pacing around the room like a caged animal. The board meeting had ended, but the storm inside me hadn’t. My knuckles were white from how hard I was clenching my fists. Everything was falling apart—Belle running away, the warehouse going up in flames, the investors losing faith. It was all because of that bastard Zane Caruso, and I’d be damned if I didn’t make him pay for it.

I took another swig from the bottle of whiskey sitting on the desk, letting the burn slide down my throat, but it did nothing to dull the rage simmering inside me. My thoughts were wild, bouncing between revenge and destruction, when Jason, my personal assistant, burst into the room, panting like he had run a marathon.

“Sir,” he wheezed, leaning against the doorframe. “Belle’s phone... it just became active a few minutes ago.”

I froze, the bottle still halfway to my lips. “Where?” My voice was low, dangerous.

“Brixton,” Jason said, swallowing hard.

A slow, twisted smile crept across