"Doesn't that tattoo look familiar?" Sandro asked Zane, his voice low but sharp as his eyes caught the inked mark on the wrist of one of the kidnappers.
He squatted slowly, pushed back the black sweater sleeve, and perused the tattoo more closely—a crescent moon etched in dark ink, a Roman numeral six sitting neatly on its edge.
Zane's jaw tightened. Seeing it, he immediately checked the wrists of the other two men, one after the other, his frown deepening with each confirmation.
He straightened slightly, unease settling in his gut. "They are from the same gang."
Ewan walked up to them then. He had been with his wife and Gianna moments earlier, as Gianna recounted what had happened in her own words—or the closest version she could manage, given how shaken she still was, her voice breaking in places, her hands trembling as Athena held them.
"What do we have here?" Ewan asked.
