Chapter 46
Forty-Six
Like an avenging angel from hell, Syn takes out the two guards with ease. It’s fascinating to watch. I got a glimpse of what she could do that weekend at the Society compound but seeing her now…she’s fucking magnificent.
But she shouldn’t have come. Not for me. The risks are too high. She has too much to live for and too much to lose.
Where is Tristan? Hendrix and Constantine? They wouldn’t let her face Viktor alone, but as the minutes tick by and they are nowhere in sight, my worries intensify. If Syn is anything, it’s stubborn as hell. Once she sets her mind on something, nothing can stop her.
“Syn…go.”
Leaving the broken piece of the chair leg sticking out of the guard’s stomach, she rises from the carnage she created like a vengeful Titian goddess and smooths back her wavy hair with blood-soaked hands. “Not without you.”
“Go.”
I almost smile when she shushes me, but my mouth is too swollen.
“Stop talking. Did you know Serena is here?” Crouching beside me, she grunts with effort when she flips the chair forty-five degrees until I’m on my back and staring up at the lone lightbulb hanging from the ceiling.
“She…and Viktor…”
“You can tell me later.” Bracing her knee on the other leg, it snaps at the joint with a crack. She systematically frees me, one limb at a time. When she’s done, her beautiful face is filled with trepidation. “Ready to get the hell out of here?”
“Fuck yes.”
“This is probably going to hurt like hell.” She grabs under my shoulders, and I refuse to make a sound, even though every part of me is screaming in agony as she carefully lifts me off the floor. I’m twice her size and probably outweigh her by a hundred pounds.
“Hold on to me,” she says when I sag against her, my legs refusing to keep me upright, my body nothing but dead weight, my muscles uncooperative.
Every breath is excruciating. Every step is a painful torture.
Having no other choice, we walk through the mess at the door, leaving a trail of bloody footprints in our wake as she literally drags me down the hallway. It’s probably forty feet of distance, but it feels like for-fucking-ever to get from one end to the other.
When we get to the bottom of the stairs, she pauses long enough to tighten her grip around my waist. “Whatever happens next, promise me that you won’t try to be a hero.”
I look up the flight of steps that seem endless. We have no weapons. And I’m not in any condition to fight. But I will do whatever it takes to ensure she escapes.
“Aleks, promise me.”
She rarely calls me by my abbreviated name.
I look at her, my soul filled with love for this woman who I would die for. “I can’t.”
Her annoyed sigh speaks volumes. “You and I are going to have a very long talk when we get home.”
Home. Home is her. Home is Tristan and Fénix and Pyotr and Dierdre. Hell, I’ll even be happy to see Hendrix’s smirking face or Constantine’s cold stare. They are the family I never expected, but the one I have discovered that I can’t live without.
“Please don’t make me knock you out and drag you out of here because I will,” she whispers, keeping her eyes on the landing above as she helps me navigate each step.
When we get to the top of the stairs, Syn freezes just as a flash of lightning illuminates the corridor ahead—and the dozen or so men standing there.
The long rumble of thunder that follows drowns out every other sound, but the tension that fills the twenty feet of distance between us and them is loud as fuck.
“I’m pleasantly surprised to see that the rumors about you are true.”
I’ve never met Viktor Androv in person, but I recognize him instantly.
He stands among his men, a good foot shorter than them, a smug affectation plastered over his clean-shaven face.
He acts like the king of a castle, when in reality, he’s just a violent thug wearing an expensive Italian silk suit.
For over a decade, Drako and Viktor have been enemies because Viktor’s only goal is power.
He’s not satisfied with his piece of the Midwest. He wants control over all the US territories that the bratva hold.
But wanting me dead isn’t business. It’s personal.
Under Drako’s orders, Aleksei and I messed up too many of his plans.
Syn squeezes my arm in warning and moves in front of me, putting herself between me and Viktor and a dozen men. “Then you should know what’s about to happen.”
Another flicker of lightning.
Viktor pulls on a sleeve of his suit jacket to straighten out the wrinkle at the elbow. “I do, yes. But the end result won’t be in your favor.”
Syn physically blocks me when I try to move forward, her grip on my arm tightening. “I disagree. I can assure you that I will be walking out of here with my husband. By the way, where is Serena? I’d like to say hi. It’s been a while.”
Viktor’s bushy, dark eyebrows draw together, his expression muddling with confusion. Women are weak and expendable and only good for one thing. He’s not used to strong women who directly challenge him and don’t back down.
Irritation replaces the confusion. “My fiancée is none of your concern.”
“She’s the reason why I’m here, right? You want to kill Aleksander.
She wants to kill me.” A heavy rain beats against the roof and windows as the sky opens up and releases its deluge.
Something shifts within Syn. I can’t see what it is with her back to me, but I can feel it in the way her muscles suddenly coil taut.
“I hate to break it to you, but you won’t get the chance. I have something that you don’t.”
With a flick of his hand, his men raise their weapons. “And what would that be?”
A red pinprick of light penetrates through the window glass from outside. Syn lets go of my arm and takes my hand, her fingers interlocking with mine.
“Family.”
And then the world explodes.
Like a sonic boom, a gust of wind sends shards of glass and splinters of wood skittering across the polished marble floor.
A flash of light. A roar of fury. It all happens so quickly.
A swarm of bodies comes through the broken windows and pile through a gaping rectangular hole where there should be a door.
Taken by surprise, Viktor’s men start shooting, their aim all over the place.
Shattered pieces from the recessed lights overhead rain down upon their heads, the jagged edges, sharp as knives, leaving tiny cuts on the exposed skin of their faces and hands.
The acrid scent of gunpowder perfumes the air, and it’s hard to tell what’s happening through the messy melee of bullets and shouts.
My heart slams against my broken ribs when I see Tristan, his whiskey eyes wild with protective rage as he moves with terrifying meticulousness, firing off two rounds before his feet even hit the floor.
Hendrix charges in and slams into a gunman mid-aim, driving a knife into his chest before spinning around to disarm the man next to him.
Constantine and Pyotr are right behind him and take out four more with ease.
I blink when I see Andie. Keane. Liam. Jax.
Rafael. Cillian. Drako’s men. Men I don’t recognize.
And…Pearson? Bratva, mob, Irish mafia, all working together. Holy fucking shit.
Syn presses close when one of Viktor’s men charges us, his finger on the trigger of his Glock. His head jerks sharply to the side from the bullet that enters his left frontal lobe. Dropping dead on the spot, his gun slides across the floor in our direction.
“Can you walk?” Syn asks, picking it up.
“Define walk.”
She anchors herself to my side. “Stay with me.”
“Always,” I gasp, though my body is ready to collapse.
“Next time, don’t get yourself captured.”
“Touché.”
“But I got captured on purpose. What’s your excuse?” She fires off three rounds in quick succession. Every shot is a promise. I’ve got you. Your family is here. We’re taking you home.
“I wasn’t…paying attention.”
She has been occupying my thoughts twenty-four-seven, and Viktor’s men caught me by surprise while I was on my morning run.
I almost have a heart attack when a grenade rolls across the floor. “Syn!”
Pulling me forward, she nonchalantly kicks it backward down the stairs. Seconds later, the explosion shakes the walls, and plaster dust billows up the staircase like London fog.
We slowly slink along the wall, trying not to get hit by a wayward bullet.
Everything becomes a blur of violence and motion as she steers me around the fray.
Shouts echo off the high ceiling—orders, screams, bullets snapping through plaster.
Hendrix slides across the slick marble on his knees, the muzzle flash lighting his fierce grin.
“Show off!” Syn yells.
He winks and blows her a kiss before jumping back into the fight.
I look on in stunned awe as anarchy becomes a skilled choreography of death and blood. My family, my friends, aren’t just fighting—they’re dismantling Viktor’s men piece by piece, like a pack of apex predators taking down their prey.
When it’s all over, the silence that follows is deafening.
Andie scares the shit out of me when she suddenly pops up in front of us. “You okay, cuz?”
“Yeah. Thanks for the idea.”
I peer down at her in question, and Syn holds up her arm. “Subcutaneous GPS implant. Andie has one.” She beams a smile at me, and I swear to God, I’d kiss the shit out of her if my face wasn’t swollen the size of a Goodyear blimp.
Tristan and Constantine run toward us, blood streaking their faces and clothes. Tristan reaches us first and grabs Syn’s face.
“What the fuck, baby?” he says when he sees the bruise on her cheek.
“I can’t even feel it. Does it look bad?”
“You look fucking beautiful.” He glances at me, stark relief on his face. “Wish I could say the same about you.”
It hurts to laugh. “Kiss…my…ass.”
“Careful,” Syn cautions when Constantine hooks his arm around me and takes my weight off her.
Hendrix waltzes over, and the kiss he gives Syn should be illegal in public. “Hey, man. Good to have you back,” he says when they come up for air.
“Where’s Viktor?”
Tristan motions with a tilt of his head where Viktor is on his knees, Pyotr holding a gun to the back of his head. One nod from me, and Viktor’s brains will be splattered all over the floor. It would be so easy. End his life and be done. But he deserves to suffer.
“Get your filthy hands off me! My father is a US senator!”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Hendrix mutters when Liam drags a feral Serena out from her hiding place. Hendrix smooths away Syn’s frown line when she glares at him. “Can’t get mad at me for past stupid mistakes.”
“Viktor, do something!” she shrieks. Which is an idiotic thing to say, given his current circumstance.
“Serena, shut the fuck up!” he growls, and Pyotr coldcocks him on the back of the head to stay quiet.
“My father will destroy you all! He will ruin every single one of you!” Like a pissed-off cat, Serena claws at Liam’s grasp, her mouth running a mile a minute, hurling insults at everyone. And then she locks onto Syn. “You stupid, hideous bitch. You’re going to pay for this.”
My ears ring from the gunshot when Syn shoots Serena right between the eyes.
“A little warning would have been nice,” Liam says, dropping her limp body like a hot potato.
Syn rolls her eyes when Hendrix says, “That was rather bathetic.”
“The sound of her voice was getting on my nerves,” she replies.
Andie playfully bumps Syn’s shoulder. “If you didn’t, I was going to.”
Knowing he’s next, Viktor demands, “I want to speak with Drako.”
“He doesn’t want to speak with you,” Pyotr coldly informs him. “What do you want to do with him?” he asks me.
I look around the room. At my family. At the one woman who is my soul.
“Throw him in the ‘hole.’ I just want to go home.”