Manacled Hearts: an Age Gap Mafia Romance (The Sanctum Syndicate Book 3)

CHAPTER 39

I expect the steps to rush in our direction, but they’re careful instead. We don’t attack, though. Not until most of them have entered the building. We don’t want them to scatter. The snipers stationed out on the building have orders to count to five and if it looks like no one else intends to enter, kill all the ones remaining outside.

Ronan taps me on the shoulder and when I turn to him, he nods toward the left. The moment I look in that direction and aim my gun, watching the first men step in, is the same moment sound trickles in, echoing and bouncing off the heavy metal that forms this space. It’s not coming from those men, but from the projector that was just unmuted by Carter.

Oinking and grunting stall their steps and they turn to the screen. Some of them don’t react, but others cover their mouths, or turn around, unable to stand the vivid imagery of the feast. We wanted to hurt Bartiste, and Carter came with the best idea how.

“What the fuck is this! It can’t be…” Bartiste himself steps in on a slight limp, walking through the several dozen men who have flooded the space, eyes fixed on the screen.

A grin spreads over my lips with the deep shock and hint of sorrow tainting the bastard’s features. There’s a hint of disgust there too as he watches his one and only son, or better yet his naked corpse, be eaten by pigs. They’re in no hurry though, enjoying this feast at a calm, soothing pace.

We don’t make a habit of disposing of bodies in this way. Carter reserves his pigs for more special kills, and since this one wasn’t his, he made an exception. The broken look on Bartiste’s face was totally worth it.

“You will pay for this!” he bellows. “You hear me?! You will pay for this!” Spit flies out of his mouth as he turns around the space, blindly trying to find us.

The first shot splits through the sounds of the pigs and one of his men is down. That’s our cue. Only a split moment later a shattering bullet-storm assaults my eardrums and Bartiste’s men fall like flies around him. Everyone knows not to aim their guns at the man in question. My goal is clear, but it’s too early to go straight for him. His men scatter, taking cover behind the old machinery, and I move through the shadows at the edge of the space, taking cover behind the thick concrete columns as I pick them off one by one.

Bullets screech against the metal machinery, howls are pulled when they hit their targets, grunts come from the people now in hand to hand combat, all a cacophony of overwhelming sounds that echo in this vast space. My bullets find home in the neck and forehead of two men who run for me, and before they hit the ground, I look back to where Bartiste was taking cover.

He’s not there.

“Watch out! They have armor-piercing rounds!” Vincent shouts from somewhere.

Frantic, I turn around and take cover behind another pillar, desperately looking for Bartiste. My fist clenches, teeth gritting as old memories of the asshole slipping through my fingers, assault me. Our men have strict orders—no one leaves the building. If they do, snipers will take them out. With one deep, slow breath, my pulse calms. Bartiste is not escaping. Even if the finger squeezing the trigger is not mine, he will not escape again.

With that calming thought, I spot him hiding behind some machinery, reloading the clip of his gun. My eyes sweep the perimeter and I jump into a sprint around the edge of the space, taking cover behind the pillars when bullets fly in my direction. It’s sad, satisfying, and worrying all at the same time how many bodies I have to jump over to get to the man, praying none of them are ours. Out of nowhere someone leaps in front of me, my breath wiped out of me as he elbows me straight in the sternum. My feet catch onto a body lying on the floor and my gun flies out. His is aimed straight at my head.

But he’s too close to me and didn’t realize it, so I swing my legs, scissor them around his ankles, and flip him onto the floor. My gun is somewhere behind me, but the time to look for it is not now. I scramble to the guy who’s now looking for the same thing as me, but I slam my fist into his stomach, earning a few more seconds to lunge for his gun. Two seconds later, his brain splatters from the right side of his head, and I’m already up, grab my own gun, and rush toward my target.

He can’t leave, by now the doors are shut from the outside. We were adamant no one, but us leaves this place tonight. One glance toward the stairs and I stop dead in my tracks—three bulky men rush up them. Aiming my gun, I shoot the one at the top in the back, and a split moment later one of our guys stationed somewhere above puts a hole in his head, and he tumbles back, taking the other two with him down the stairs.

When I turn back for Bartiste, the bastard’s gone again, probably hidden somewhere or sick of seeing his son on that screen being eaten by pigs.

“Come the fuck out, Bartiste, you goddamn coward!” I holler, echoing through the sharp pops of guns, and collapsing bodies.

Looking back to the metal stairs, more of his guys rush up. Damn it, they can’t get there, they’ll be too close to Evelyn. One of them falls with my shots, the other by someone else’s bullets.

Taking cover behind another pillar, I look around for Bartiste once more. The factory has turned into a massacre, bodies fallen everywhere, shots still being fired, though less than before, others are just punching or stabbing each other.

Madds is one of them. He prefers hand-to-hand to the bullets, and he’s pummeling through men like they’re nothing.

Vin is reloading god knows which number magazine into his gun, a devious tug at the corner of his lips. His thing is making people talk with his intimidating demeanor, with secrets and well-chosen words. But as it is with all of us… violence puts such a big fucking smile on his face.

Then there’s Carter. His two guns are still fixed in his leather holster, but he’s been doing a heck of a lot of damage with his knives. Blood is splattered all over him, and though I can clearly see the disgust contorting his features at the mess, he’s fucking relishing in the violence.

But there’s still no sign of Bartiste.

“Are you scared, Bartiste? Scared that you’re finally going to pay for your sins?” I taunt, my laugh echoing through the vast space.

Goddamn it!Two more men are once again going up the fucking stairs. I aim my weapon but before I can pull the trigger, they’re down.

“Take out the ones at the top!” someone shouts the order, and my blood runs cold.

“Where are you, you bastard?”

“Is she up there, boy? Is that why you keep taking out everyone who steps up those stairs?”

Oh, that’s Bartiste alright. The way he says boy brings me back to all those years before, when he kidnapped Annika and Hanna and fucking taunted us. Now he wants Evelyn too? Over my dead-fucking-body and not even then. I’ll come out of the goddamn grave and pull him down with me.

“It’s me.” Ronan alerts me as he slides next to me behind the pillar, taking down two more men. “Don’t let him get to you.”

“I’m not!” but my tone is snappier than it should be. “Watch out!” I whip my gun over his shoulder and shoot the man who was raising his weapon at him.

“Thanks.”

“You need to go, Ronan. Take cover away from this. You have a wife and son at home.”

“Now you’re getting all protective? I’m not dying today.” He grabs the back of my head and brings me down, kissing the top of it. “Besides, you have plenty to lose, too.”

I shake my head and turn around.

“Oh fuck no!” I lift the gun, but it’s too late. Two of our men stationed at the top fall, the other two take cover as more shots are fired.

Then I catch one more glimpse of Bartiste as he runs from behind one piece of equipment to another, ducking as I let two bullets fly in his direction. The bastard is all the way on the other side of the space, too far for great accuracy, especially since there are no lights there. And I do want to be accurate, since I only want to maim, not kill, just yet.

I go to run, but bullets hit the concrete at my feet and I whip back, crashing against Ronan.

“Goddamn it!” I curse.

But I push away again anyway. And the same thing happens. When my brother tries to move out, bullets fly on his side too.

“They’re trying to keep us here.”

“Yeah, no shit.” I huff out a breath. “Can someone fucking shoot the asshole?” I rage loud enough for the sound to vibrate over the flying bullets.

I can’t shoot blindly, as much as it sounds like a pretty damn good idea right now, but I’m not gonna risk accidentally hitting one of our own. I sneak a look, and just as a bullet hits the concrete next to my shoulder, I see a group of Bartiste’s men climb up those stairs again. Ice fills my veins as their steps get too close to the top and no one is stopping them. Two finally go down, but the rest turn out of my line of sight and shoot.

My ears ring, and a lump in my throat chokes me. I lunge, but arms catch me in a vice around my middle, pulling me back just as a sharp burn hisses against my forearm.

“They’re gonna get to her!” I rage at Ronan’s grip.

“You almost got shot, brother! You’re no good to her dead.”

“Someone go after her!” I shout and hope someone hears me.

I look down at the blood trickling off my forearm—it’s just a graze.

A maniacal laugh bounces off the metal walls and I grit my teeth at the sound.

“I’m gonna have her soon!” Bartiste shouts, “Again!” Then the bastard laughs once more.

“Cover me!” I leap out from behind the pillar, sprinting to the next one as bullets fly behind me, but I trust Ronan is taking the opportunity to shoot whoever’s aiming their guns at me.

The space has quieted more or less, guns are still fired, but there are enough bodies on the ground to know that there aren’t many of Bartiste’s men left. Apart from the bastards upstairs.

I have to get to her.

“You’re done, Bartiste! You’re not getting out of here alive!” I sneak a look and see movement behind some bulky machinery. “Come out, old man.”

On careful steps I move from behind the pillar and moments later, the bastard comes out into view too.

“Don’t worry now. No one here’s going to shoot you.” A grin pulls at my lips as I watch the forced expression on his features. “They all know you’re mine to kill.”

He’s trying to cover the fear with made up malice. From the corner of my eyes I spot our men out in the open, guns aimed in several directions—I guess some of the asshole’s men are still alive. But my focus is on their boss as more bullets fly and loud thumps hit the ground.

Hopefully those were the last of his men.

I lift my gun, aiming at Bartiste, but a flurry of gunshots split the silence. They’re muffled, distant. My breath catches in my lungs—they’re coming from upstairs. A heart-wrenching scream splits through the vastness of the space, and my heart stops.

Evelyn!