Avenged Vows (The Sullivan Mafia #2)

Chapter One

CIARA

Dead. Or as close to it as it gets.

“Shit.”

Of all the times for my phone to lose signal, it chooses now. When I’m potentially seconds away from death.

Wonderful.

I hold the phone over my head hoping to get even one tiny little bar. But of course, it doesn’t work. The No Network sign just stays there as if mocking me, so I shut off the screen and shove it back into my pocket.

At least the screams have stopped, and now I know Ronan is on his way, but there’s nothing he could say that would make me wait for him as screams echo from inside where my best friend is being held hostage.

My heart almost broke listening to him plead with me, but I can’t just stay here while they are doing god knows what to her.

I had expected him to yell, to unleash his rage at my recklessness. I expected a string of curse words mixed with all the ways he was going to punish me for disobeying his orders. But I got nothing of the sort.

Instead, Ronan decided now would be the best time to show his softer side. The one that messes with me the most.

If Mila’s life wasn’t at stake, I would have listened. I would have gladly waited for him to come and play hero.

Our marriage might have started as nothing but a business agreement, but somewhere along the way, feelings became involved, which is not something I ever thought I would admit.

Me? Having feelings for a Sullivan?

My father would turn in his grave if he knew.

Then again, my father turned out to be a lying scumbag who sold girls into sex slavery, so I don’t really care what he thinks.

If I make it out of this alive, Ronan can scream and yell at me all he wants. He can even punish me, spank me.

Stop that, Ciara. This is not the time to fantasize about your husband.

I take a deep breath and focus on the job at hand as I remain crouched behind the stack of old crates I hid behind when my phone started buzzing with Ronan’s call. I never made it inside because I was afraid someone might hear me talking.

Peering over the top of the crates at the abandoned warehouse, I’m well aware of how reckless it was to come in here with nothing but the baseball bat I stole from Mila’s apartment, but I can’t afford to wait for Ronan.

He assured me he could be here in twenty minutes and is likely already on his way, but what if Mila doesn’t have twenty minutes?

My stomach churns as tears start to sting my eyes.

This is all my fault. Mila is only in this mess because of me. I’m the one who forced her brother, Max, into digging deeper into the encrypted payments between Ronan’s father and my family because I’m too stubborn to know when to stop.

I thought finding out the truth would show Ronan he can trust me, would show him that maybe he was wrong about my father.

Turns out, I’m the only one who was wrong.

It might be too late for me to save Max, but I refuse to let Mila pay for my mistakes too.

I take a deep breath, my fingers tightening around the handle of the bat, and dart out from behind the crates. I wince as the gravel crunches beneath my sneakers, causing my pulse to spike with fear, but it’s not enough to stop me.

Though as I reach the side door held open with a brick, I pause.

I have no idea what I’m facing in there. For all I know, there could be thirty armed men waiting in the shadows, and all I have to fight them off is a measly baseball bat.

If I have any chance of saving Mila, I need to get a look inside.

Holding my breath, I start to creep around the edge of the warehouse. Most of the windows are boarded up, blocking the interior from view, but I keep going.

I’m almost at the main entrance when I spot a small window, the glass cracked and covered in a thin layer of dust, but it’s enough for me to get a good look inside.

I stand on my tiptoes and peer through the window. “Oh, my god.”

Mila.

Her hands and feet are bound to a metal chair with rope, and her dark hair is matted and stuck to her face. Tears stream down her cheeks, but for the most part, she looks unharmed.

It’s more than I can say for Max.

The thought has my throat burning as I take in the sight of my best friend, terrified and grieving. Even if I manage to get her out of here, I’m not sure she will ever forgive me for the part I played in her brother’s death, and I’m not sure I want her to.

I don’t deserve her forgiveness.

Mila must feel my eyes on her as she lifts her head, and her eyes lock with mine through the window. They widen, and her lips part, but I shake my head and press a finger to my lips.

Mila blinks slowly before lowering her gaze back to the floor as tears continue to stream down her cheeks.

I can’t see anyone else in there with her, but that doesn’t mean she’s alone.

I creep back around the side of the warehouse, staying low and sticking to the shadows.

The industrial area is completely deserted this late at night; the only sound is the distant hum of traffic and my heavy breathing.

As I reach the side door, still propped open by an old brick, an overwhelming sense of dread washes over me.

This door hasn’t been left open by accident, which means whoever is inside is confident enough that they can handle any intruders.

I pause, pressing my forehead lightly against the cold metal door.

What the hell am I doing? I have no plan and no backup. One wrong move, and Mila and I could both end up dead. But what if waiting for Ronan makes things worse? Then he could end up dead as well, and I can’t live with that. So, I take a deep breath and slip inside.

I find myself in a dimly lit corridor lined with dusty shelves filled with junk and old rusted machine parts. Creeping forward on my tiptoes, I keep my steps as light and quiet as possible as I strain my ears to listen for any sign of movement.

But there’s nothing.

So, I keep going, slow and steady, a rat scurrying in the night.

When I round a corner, a male voice filters down the corridor toward me.

I freeze.

His voice is low, and the words are too muffled for me to make out what he’s saying, but I can hear the urgency in his voice loud and clear. Whoever he’s talking to, it doesn’t sound like they’re happy.

Shit.

Ignoring the sick feeling in my stomach, I creep along the rest of the corridor until I come to a door that I’m fairly confident leads to the room where Mila is being kept. It’s cracked open just enough for me to peek through without being seen.

Inside, an enormous man paces back and forth in front of Mila with a gun in his hand.

The sight of him almost has me emptying my stomach all over the floor.

He’s holding a phone to his ear. He’s easily six foot three, maybe taller, and likely weighs more than Mila and me combined. Any inch of skin that is showing beneath his tight-fitting black t-shirt is covered in tattoos. Even the side of his head has been inked.

I don’t recognize him, which unnerves me.

Who the hell is orchestrating this?

Mila keeps her head bowed and her eyes downcast, but I catch the tension in her shoulders, the way she flinches ever so slightly when the guy gets a little too close. Her whole body is on high alert, and for good reason.

Men like this will show no mercy just because she’s a woman. If anything, it will only make the game that much more entertaining.

I could storm in there right now and catch him off guard, but that would only alert whoever he’s on the phone with that something’s wrong, and they might send backup. I need to time this just right if Mila and I are to make it out of here alive.

So, I wait.

The seconds tick by like hours, and my palms start to sweat as adrenaline pumps through my body. But I stay silent and still, biding my time until I can make my move.

The moment the guy pulls the phone away from his ear and ends the call, I push open the door and charge into the room like a feral animal on a hunt.

My body reacts before my mind has a chance to overthink, and I let all the pent-up adrenaline fuel me as I pull back the bat and slam it into the back of his head with as much power as I can muster.

He stumbles forward onto his knees, clutching at his head, causing both his phone and gun to crash to the floor.

I drop the bat and dive for the floor, snatching up both the phone and gun before he has a chance to realize his mistake.

The gun feels foreign in my hands, which are shaking so badly I can barely keep the barrel steady.

“Get the hell away from my friend.”

Even my voice shakes as I watch the man slowly turn around to face me, but I refuse to let my fear win. Blood trickles down the side of his head, but his eyes are clear and brimming with fury as he looks up at me.

For a moment, we just stare at each other until he suddenly starts laughing. The sound is cold and lifeless as it echoes around the room, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Who are you working for?”

He only continues to laugh.

“Answer me, or I’ll shoot you.” My voice trembles, making my threat sound weak, but I sneak a glance at Mila and know in that moment that I would do it. I would gladly stain my hands with his blood if it meant she got to walk away from this.

“Ciara,” Mila croaks, but I ignore her.

The guy sneers as he looks up at me, his pale eyes gleaming with challenge. “You don’t have the balls to shoot me.”

I don’t falter. I tighten my grip on the gun, my finger hovering over the trigger as I try to muster the courage to shoot.

“Try me.”

He grins wider, exposing a few gold teeth at the back of his mouth before climbing to his feet.

His movements are slow, and a deep groan builds in his throat as he straightens, but I know even in his weakened state, if he manages to get his hands on me, it’ll all be over.

I have no choice.

I have to do this.

“You’re not a killer, sweet cheeks.” He moves to take a step closer.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe I’m not a killer. But I’ll gladly become one for the sake of Mila.

I ready myself to pull the trigger when the air shifts behind me.

His presence envelops me even before I register the sounds of his steady footsteps as they approach, sheer power and purpose in every step.

“She might not have the balls to shoot you. But I sure as hell do.”

Ronan.