Yes, Daddies

las Vegas

My phone doesn't ring, it vibrates. Once, short and sharp.

I glance at the screen and the number flashing there is not one I ignore, so I answer immediately.

"Talk."

There is a pause on the other end, then the voice comes. "Boss… there's a problem."

My jaw tightens.

"What kind?"

"It's the girl."

Everything in me stills.

"Asena?" My voice drops.

"Yes."

A cold feeling settles in my chest.

"What happened?"

Another pause and hell, I don't like them pauses.

"They threw her out."

My grip on the phone tightens. "Explain."

"Her father… there was shouting and then…” He hesitates. "He hit her, more than once."

My vision sharpens.

"And?"

"She tried to leave, he called her back and something hit her from behind, she went down and didn't get back up."

A dangerous silence fills my end.

"Is she alive?"

"Yes, but…"

"But what?" I snap, already getting frustrated.

"They didn't take her to the hospital." He reveals and my chest goes still.

"They dragged her outside," he continues, voice lower now, "and left her on the street."

For a second I don't hear anything else, the world narrows and I feel my blood go hot.

"Where is she now?" I ask.

"Still outside. I stayed back like you said and didn't interfere unless…"

"You should have interfered," I snap.

"Yes, boss."

I close my eyes, exhale once and give myself no more than that.

"Stay where you are," I say. "I'm coming."

I hang up before he can respond.

The drive is too slow, every red light feels like an insult and every second that passes stretches thin with something dark and restless inside me. By the time I reach the street, I'm already done being patient.

I spot her immediately.

She's on the ground, still.

My heart kicks hard against my ribs as I get out and move fast.

"Asena?" I call.

Nothing. She does not react or respond.

I drop to a crouch beside her, my hands already moving and checking her pulse. She's breathing, shallow and weak, and bruises mark her skin, her wrists, her arms, her neck.

My jaw locks.

"Damn it," I mutter.

"Boss…" The man I stationed nearby steps closer and I don't even look at him.

"Help me."

I lift her carefully and for a second her head falls against my shoulder, too light and too fragile, and something in my chest twists sharply.

"Get the car door," I order.

He moves immediately and I slide her into the backseat, climbing in after her and keeping her steady.

"Hospital," I say, and the car moves fast.

I stay until she's admitted, until the doctors take her and until they tell me she's stable, and only then do I step outside and breathe. I do it slowly and deliberately because if I don't, I will walk back in there and tear this city apart.

I pull out my phone and this time I don't wait for anyone to speak.

"I want everything," I say the moment the call connects.

"On who?" He asks.

"Her father.

I want his full profile, business, finances, connections, enemies, everything."

I glance back toward the hospital doors.

“ His name is Daniel Navarro."

A pause.

"You'll have it," he says simply and I hang up and make another call.

"Find Mateo Ruiz," I say. "I want his movements, his habits, who he talks to and what he owns."

"And the sister?"

I lean against the car, my gaze going cold.

"Yes," I say. "Her too."

By the time I get back, Zavian is already there, of course he is, sitting by her bed and watching her like he's guarding something valuable. I don't say anything, I just look at her.

She is so small and so still and bruised.

Something inside me snaps again.

"I'm going to handle it," I say.

Zavian doesn't look at me. "Don't kill them."

I huff softly. "You always take the fun out of things."

"They're not worth it," he says.

I glance at him.

"No," I agree quietly. "They're not."

But that doesn't mean they walk away Scot free after hurting my woman.

I go back to the office and leave Zavian in the hospital, and the information comes in fast. I sit behind my desk, the city of Las Vegas spread out beyond the glass, glowing and alive and completely unaware.

A file lands on my desk.

Its Daniel Navarro's.

I open it and read.

There's nothing different from what we already know.

My eyes narrow slightly as I read further.

He remarried shortly after the death of his first wife.

Then a daughter :Sophia who is same age as Asena.

Interesting, very interesting.

I lean back slightly, piecing it together.

"So that's how it is," I murmur.

The rest fills in quickly, reports, notes, observations and patterns, and Asena's life in that house isn't a mystery, it's a blueprint of neglect, control and favoritism drawn in sharp, deliberate lines. She moved out early, not by choice but by survival.

My fingers tap slowly against the desk.

"And you think you get away with that?" I mutter.

I flip to Mateo's file, clean background, decent family, nothing remarkable except the money, gifts and transfers, all flowing in from Daniel Navarro.

I smile slightly.

"So you sell yourself," I say quietly.

How pathetic.

Sophia's file is worse, manipulative and calculated and always positioned to benefit, always protected, always right.

I close the file slowly, sit there for a moment and think, then I pick up my phone.

"Get me Navarro's schedule," I say.

"And Mateo?"

I smirk slightly.

"Oh, I'll deal with him personally," I reply.

Night falls over Las Vegas but the city never sleeps and neither do I.

I step out onto the balcony, the cool air brushing against my skin but it does nothing to calm the storm inside me.

They threw her out like she meant nothing, like she was disposable and my jaw tightens.

"Wrong move," I mutter.

They have no idea what they've done, no idea who they've crossed, no idea whose path they've just stepped into.

I exhale slowly, not anger, not anymore, this is something colder and more controlled and far more dangerous.

"They don't get to hurt you," I say quietly, more to myself than anyone else, because I've seen enough, read enough and now, I act.

Daniel Navarro built his little world in this city, his business, his reputation and his carefully constructed comfort, and I smile faintly.

Let's see how long that lasts.

Las Vegas doesn't forgive mistakes and neither do I.