40. Kanyan
40
KANYAN
T he leather straps of my holster bite into my shoulders as I slip it on. This one’s not for show—it’s the double-pouch kind, loaded for a long night and a bloodier morning. I tug my coat over it, smooth the lapels, and glance at my reflection in the mirror. Black shirt. Black dress pants. Polished shoes. Black coat.
Dressed for a funeral.
And if things go as planned, it won’t be mine.
Altin Kadri. That name’s been sitting in the back of my throat like poison, choking me every time I think of what he’s done. What he’s taken. Two women. Our women. He doesn’t know it yet, but today is the day he loses everything.
The intel came in from Lucky. A lead. Not just another dead end, not another whisper in the wind—this one’s solid. Kadri’s holed up in an abandoned monastery at the edge of the city, a crumbling relic of stone and rot perched high on a mountain ridge. I don’t know what kind of sanctuary he thinks he’s found there, but it won’t save him. Nothing will.
I strap my knife to my ankle, the blade a comforting weight, and grab my gloves. The cold will be biting up in those hills, but I’m not worried about the weather. There’s something darker waiting for us up there. Something worse than the ghosts the locals whisper about when they speak of that monastery.
Unless he’s already killed them.
The thought slithers through my mind before I can stop it. I clench my fists so hard that my nails dig into my palms, drawing blood. No. I won’t go there. Lula and Allegra are fighters. Strong. If they were weak, they wouldn’t be ours. And they’ll stay ours—once we tear Kadri apart and drag them out of whatever hell he’s stashed them in.
I shove the thought down and pull my coat tight, heading outside. Twelve cars. That’s the size of the convoy we’ve put together for this mission. Twelve cars filled with the best men we’ve got. Each one armed to the teeth, ready to die if that’s what it takes.
I climb into the passenger seat of the lead car, the engine already rumbling like a caged animal. The others fall into formation behind us, and we tear through the city, speeding toward the outskirts. The tires squeal as we hit the sharp turns of the mountain road, the headlights cutting through the darkness like knives.
The monastery comes into view just as the sun teases the horizon, casting the structure in faint shadows. It’s massive, a hulking fortress of stone and silence sitting on the ridge like it’s daring us to come closer. The monks who once called it home left years ago, but their presence lingers—ghosts, the locals say. But I don’t give a damn about spirits. The only thing haunting that place now is Altin Kadri, and I plan to exorcise him myself.
“Welcome to the madness,” I bark to the men in the car, my voice hard enough to cut glass. I glance in the side mirror, taking stock of the convoy. Each car is packed with men who’d kill or die for this mission. Dante Accardi, the original sinner himself, leads the Seattle family. Attila the Hunter and The Jekyll ride with him, men who’ve done things most people couldn’t even imagine. The Gatti brothers—Scar, Brando, Lucky, and Rafi—are all here, ready to do whatever it takes. Mason Ironside. Jayson Caluna. Names that carry weight, men who’ve built reputations on the broken bodies of those who crossed them.
And me, Kanyan De Scarzi, a man who never thought he’d care about anyone the way he cares about Lula. A man who never thought he’d let anyone into his tainted heart and broken soul.
The car screeches to a stop at the base of the mountain, the gravel crunching under the tires. I step out, the cold slamming into me like a fist. The air is sharp, thin, and the weight of the mountain presses down on my chest.
I turn to the men gathered behind me, their faces hard, eyes sharp, weapons ready.
“This is it,” I say, my voice low but steady. “We go by foot from here. Everyone ready to party?”
They nod, grim determination etched into their features.
We start the climb, the monastery looming above us like a beast waiting to strike. My boots crunch against the frozen ground, each step heavy with purpose. The wind howls through the trees, drowning out everything but the pounding of my heart.
By the time we reach the gates, the sky is just awakening, shrouding us in early morning fog. I signal for the men to fan out, their movements silent, practiced.
This is what we’ve been waiting for. This is where the hunt ends.
Somewhere in this godforsaken place, Kadri is waiting.
Time to bring the devil to his knees.
I draw my gun, the cold weight steady in my hand, the steel biting into my palm. My breath fogs in the icy air, each exhale a reminder that I’m still alive—for now. Jayson steps forward, bolt cutters in hand, the metal jaws gleaming in the faint light. He doesn’t need instructions; we’ve done this before. We all know the drill.
The chain holding the iron gates together is new—clean, polished, not a speck of rust. That’s the first giveaway. It’s meant to look like a relic of abandonment, like the gates are just another part of this forgotten husk of a place. But I see through it. It’s a red herring, a lazy attempt to throw off anyone who might come sniffing around.
Kadri didn’t expect us to find him.
The bolt cutters snap the chain with a sharp clink , the links falling to the ground like broken shackles. Jayson steps back, his face set, and I press my hand against the cold iron of the gates. I push. They creak on their hinges, the sound echoing into the night like a scream.
And then we move.
The men surge forward, spreading out like a pack of wolves, each one sharp-eyed and ready for blood. No words, no hesitation. We all know what’s at stake. I take the lead, my boots crunching against the gravel as we step into the courtyard.
The air inside feels different—heavier, colder. The kind of chill that sinks into your bones and stays there. The monastery towers above us, its crumbling stone walls cloaked in shadow. The windows are dark except for a faint flicker of light on the upper floor.
I scan the area, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up as my instincts scream at me. Something’s off. This doesn’t feel right.
“We’re clear,” Jayson calls from the front, his voice gruff but controlled.
But I don’t buy it. I’m already moving, my boots slamming into the stone floor as I lead the charge. The rest of the men fall into line behind me. My gun is drawn, the cold metal a reminder that we’re here for one reason: to take Kadri down and get the girls back.
We move through the darkened hallways, shadows of the past clinging to the walls like ghosts. Every step we take, the air grows heavier, thicker with the weight of our mission. But it’s not just the dust of forgotten monks that’s pressing in. There’s something else, something darker, and I can’t shake the feeling that we’re walking right into a trap.
We reach the main chamber, the one with the vaulted ceiling and the stained-glass windows that let in slivers of pale light. But there’s no sign of Kadri, no sign of the girls. Just silence, thick and suffocating.
And then?—
An explosion rocks the floor beneath us.
The blast sends us all flying, throwing bodies against walls, slamming us into the cold stone. I hit the ground hard, my body colliding with the floor as I scramble to get to my feet, adrenaline pumping through my veins.
“What the hell?!” Brando yells, his voice a mix of rage and confusion.
I stagger up, my heart pounding in my chest as I look around. The walls have cracked, dust and debris falling in a slow, steady rain. We’re caught in the blast radius, the whole place shaking with the impact. My eyes dart to the shadows, trying to spot any movement, any sign of Kadri or the girls.
“Move!” I shout, my voice hoarse, but we don’t need the command. The men are already moving, clearing the debris, checking for anything—anyone—that’s still alive.
And then I see it.
A figure, standing in the far corner of the chamber, barely visible behind the smoke and dust. My breath catches in my throat as recognition slams into me like a freight train.
“Kadri.”
His voice is low, too low, coming from the shadows where he stands. “I was wondering when you’d show up, Kanyan.”
I don’t wait. I move toward him, my heart pounding in my chest. But as I take a step forward, I feel something shift. A strange, sickening feeling coils in my gut. Something’s wrong. This is too easy.
“Where are they, Kadri?” I demand, my gun trained on him.
Kadri smiles, a wicked, cruel thing that doesn’t touch his eyes. “You’re too late.”
I don’t give him the satisfaction of responding. I step forward, intent on finishing this, but as I get closer, I hear the sound of another explosion—a real explosion—this one echoing from behind the monastery walls. My gut twists, and the world seems to slow down as the truth crashes into me.
This was a trap, plain and simple. A planned attack.
The monastery shakes again, but this time it’s not just the blast. This time, the ground beneath us starts to crumble. I barely have time to react as I see the walls disintegrating.
“Brando, get back!” I shout, but it’s too late. The ceiling above us cracks open, sending chunks of rock tumbling down toward us. I dive, knocking Brando out of the way as the rocks come crashing down.
Then everything goes black.