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DAMON'S POV:

The jet hummed under me, steady as my pulse should've been. But my mind? It wasn't here. It was already in France, running through every angle, every move I'd have to make.

I leaned back in the leather seat, gripping the armrests harder than I realized. It wasn't nerves, not exactly. Nerves implied doubt, and there was none of that. There was only a purpose—one singular, burning purpose that had kept me alive when everything else wanted me dead.

To protect her.

To make them fucking pay.

They hadn't just crossed a line when they came for Astrid. They obliterated it.

They kidnapped her, tried to use her as my weakness to draw me out, and now, they were going to fucking die— by my hands.

But even that wasn't enough.

Not yet.

Not until I watched the auction block where they used all their power to sit on piles of gold while standing on the backs of those they trafficked and murdered... ripped to shreds.

I had turned a blind eye, but I couldn't anymore.

I wasn't just going to burn the place down, but their empire, the entire system of everyone even remotely behind what happened to Astrid was going down with them.

I wanted to hit them where it hurts so they knew what it meant to finally suffer.

You know what they say— an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. And that was my gift to them.

The jet's cabin was silent except for the muted chatter between the pilot and copilot. Behind me, my crew was whispering over the plan one last time, but I wasn't listening. I didn't need to. The plan was etched in my mind. Every move, every backup plan, every worst-case scenario. I'd thought of them all. And if something went sideways? I'd handle it. Alone.

That's why I left her behind.

Astrid.

The thought of her name sent a dull ache through my chest, one I wasn't proud of. She'd gotten under my skin in ways no one else ever had. She wasn't just a distraction or a fleeting indulgence. She was... something else entirely.

She'd fought beside me, stood her ground when others would've run for their lives. I'd seen that fire in her—the kind that could burn down a world if it needed to. But even knowing what she was capable of didn't make leaving her easier, not when it risked putting her life on the line every single damn time.

The look I'd seen in her face the last time we talked is what really killed me.

The fear, the anger. Her hands trembling when she grabbed mine, her voice cutting through the silence as she begged me not to go. Not because she was afraid I'd lose, but because she was afraid I wouldn't come back. She knew better than anyone what this mission meant.

I was going to stir up a den of poisonous vipers.

So I promised her two days.

And I left her with my wallet, a picture of her tucked inside. It wasn't much. Hell, it was nothing. It was a weak gesture but it was all I had to give. If I didn't make it back, at least she'd have something of me... and if she had to suffer at least it would be on a yacht in the Bahamas and not back at the estate.

My money was all people expected of me.

"Boss."

Laufy's voice broke through my thoughts. I glanced up, finding him standing there with his phone in hand, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.

"What?"

He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. "Astrid called."

That stopped me cold. A muscle ticked in my jaw as I stared at him, waiting for the rest.

"She, uh..." Laufy shifted his weight uncomfortably. "She was asking questions. Wanted to know where we were headed."

I was on my feet before I even realized it, my voice low and sharp. "And what did you tell her?"

"Nothing." He said quickly, his hands shooting up in defense. "Swear to God, Boss. I hung up before she could get anything out of me."

Damn it.

I paced the length of the cabin, trying to rein in the frustration bubbling under my skin. I should've known she'd try to pull something like this.

"She's not gonna stop, is she?" Laufy muttered, mostly to himself.

"No," I said, flatly. "She's not."

That was the thing about her. Astrid wasn't the kind of woman who sat back and waited for someone to save her. She made her own moves, no matter the costs, and that's exactly what made her dangerous. Not just to herself but to anyone else who tries to get in her way.

I sat back down, pulling out my phone and dialing a secure number. It rang twice before a familiar voice picked up on the other end.

"Damon," came the smooth, accented drawl of my undercover contact. "Are you en route?"

"I'm on my way," I said, skipping the pleasantries. "But I need you to do something for me first, Mateo."

"Anything, Boss."

"There's a woman. You know her, Astrid." I paused, jaw tight as my grip tightened on the phone. "Because of your history, I know she will run to you first. She's smart, good at getting what she wants. But if you want to prove your loyalty to me after converting from the Enrico family, this is your one fucking chance."

I took a deep breath in. "Listen closely. If she somehow finds you or contacts you, I need to know immediately. However," I let a ripple of laughter fill the room as I kicked my head back. "If she so much as even sets foot on French soil," I stopped abruptly, my voice dark and grim. "It's your head, amigo. Do you understand?"

There was a beat of silence.

"Understood."

Without so much as a reply, I hung up, exhaling slowly as I leaned back in my seat.

Astrid might have been stubborn, but I wasn't about to let her throw herself into this mess just to prove a point. This wasn't her fight.

It was mine.

By the time the sun sets on Paris, the people who were behind this act of stupidity were just about to find out exactly what the hell it meant to cross me, Damon fucking Barista.