35. Raiden
Chapter 35
Raiden
T he parking lot is nearly deserted when I arrive, a stretch of cracked asphalt lit by a buzzing streetlamp. It’s early—dawn hasn’t fully broken yet—so the sky is still a deep bruise of purples and grays. The smell of wet concrete and old gasoline hangs in the air, mixing with my own stale sweat. One week. It’s been one goddamn week since Kristopher kidnapped Lucrezia from my house, and every hour that’s passed has sharpened my rage to a razor’s edge.
I kill my bike’s engine and step off, fatigue laced into every bone. My eyes burn from lack of sleep; my knuckles are still bruised from punching walls and any sorry bastard who got in my way this past week. I’m on a mission, and I can’t stop. If I let myself rest, I’ll have to face the swarm of nightmares that come whenever I close my eyes—nightmares of Kristopher’s leering grin, of the horrors Lucrezia might be enduring right now. I can’t afford that.
As I walk toward the edge of the lot, I see them gathered under the weak glow of the streetlamp: Saverio, Priest, Bash, and Luciano Terlizzi. Saverio stands straight, with no cane, though he’s still nursing his hip. Priest has his arms crossed, scanning the perimeter with a calm, analytical expression. Bash has a lit cigarette, and he’s in mid-conversation with the man beside him—Luciano, who has the same tall, lean build as the rest of his family. It throws me off for a second seeing him here instead of Dante.
My boots thud heavily on the cracked asphalt. They all look up. We’re not enemies anymore—strange how that works—but we’re far from comfortable allies.
“Finally decided to show up,” Bash says, half-smiling through a drag of his cigarette. The attempt at levity grates on my nerves. A week without Lucrezia’s presence makes everything feel like a taunt.
I ignore him, turning my attention to Luciano. “Why the hell is he here?”
Luciano arches an eyebrow, dryness creeping into his tone when he says, “Good morning to you too, Drake. Dante was going to come, but his wife is in labor. So you’re stuck with me.”
I let out a sharp laugh that holds no humor, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “Christ, so now we’re letting family drama get in the way of real business?”
Luciano’s lips twitch. “I’m sure my future niece appreciates your concern.”
Saverio steps forward, cutting off any further back-and-forth. His movements are smoother than they’ve been, though he still holds himself like a man who’s recently come off an injury. “Focus, Raiden. We’re here because we have a lead. That’s all that matters.”
I clench my teeth and nod once, exhaling. “Fine. Then spill.”
Priest clears his throat, nodding to Saverio. They exchange a brief glance, the kind that says they’ve developed a grudging respect in our quest to find Lucrezia. It’s an unexpected alliance, but desperation makes for strange bedfellows. “Saverio had a guy who works for the city. He just got back to us yesterday with property records and deeds for Kristopher and everyone he’s related to. We crossed off half a dozen locations for being too public, but this one stood out. It’s a couple hundred acres of land owned by Kristopher’s grandfather on his mother’s side. We did some surveillance, and there’s a cabin buried in the woods that looks awfully suspicious. No registered utilities, minimal traffic, and the property taxes haven’t been updated in years. Perfect place to hide something—or someone.”
My heart leaps, hope surging in my chest for the first time in days. “Cabin in the woods,” I echo, voice thick. “So we know where Lucrezia is?”
Priest nods, measuring me with his gaze. “We think so. It’s about a mile from here on foot through dense greenery. No roads on the map, just overgrown trails that look barely used. Perfect place to hide if you don’t want to be found—or want to make sure nobody finds what you’re hiding.”
Bash flicks ash from his cigarette. “Nothing like a creepy cabin in the woods to add ambiance to this rescue mission. Makes me feel like we’re in some low-budget horror flick.”
Luciano nods, his voice carrying that same dryness as he shifts his weight. “If we hear banjos, I’m out.” He looks at me, dark eyes serious despite his joking tone, adding, “Better than sitting around waiting, though. At least we’re doing something.”
My anger simmers dangerously close to the surface, hot and volatile, but I clamp down on it with iron control. We have a direction. That’s what matters right now. “Let’s go,” I growl, turning on my heel so quickly that my boots scrape against the ground. “Now. Every minute we waste is another minute she’s in there.”
“Wait,” Saverio snaps, halting me. “We do this smart, Drake. If we storm in like maniacs, we risk losing Lucrezia if Kristopher panics or tries to move her.”
I spin, glowering at him. “A week of ‘smart’ got us nowhere. I’m not waiting for more cautionary bullshit while Lucrezia’s out there.” The mention of her name makes my throat tighten, and I swallow painfully.
Priest interjects, voice level. “We’re not waiting. We’re going. But we plan on the walk. We keep a low profile, get close, and then figure out how to approach. Understand?”
I hate that they’re right, but my anger refuses to yield entirely. “Fine,” I bite out. “Whatever. Let’s move before Kristopher decides to vanish again.”
Luciano and Bash share a brief look—almost amused. I can’t stand it. It feels like they’re two steps away from joking about how tense I am. My fists itch to punch something, but I force the urge back. I can’t risk losing precious time in a brawl with the men who, ironically, are helping me.
The canopy of trees overhead thickens as we begin our trek, branches interweaving like gnarled fingers against the sky. The scent of pine and damp earth rises, more primal, more untamed. Dead needles crunch beneath our feet.
Bash, in front of me, points out protruding roots. I grit my teeth, craving speed, wishing we were running instead of carefully avoiding poison ivy and rogue deer. I want to scream at him to hurry, but I hold my tongue, remembering that stealth matters. Even so, every nerve in my body protests the slow crawl.
“This is it. About a quarter mile ahead.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me. My mouth is dry, anticipation and dread mingling in my veins. The dirt trail narrows, the trees closing around us. The quiet is eerie—only the snapping of tree branches beneath our feet and the rustle of leaves in the breeze.
Then we see it, or rather, the shape of it: a ramshackle structure hidden among the tall pines and low brush. From a distance, it looks abandoned—walls leaning, paint peeling. But the faint smoke curling up from somewhere behind it suggests life. Or maybe death.
We fully emerge into the clearing, coasting to a stop. A hush falls over the group, each of us scanning the area. My pulse is a drumbeat in my ears, my grip so tight my knuckles ache. Saverio steps forward, eyeing the building from top to bottom. Priest’s posture radiates tension. Bash draws his weapon, and Luciano cracks his neck. We’re all ready, but we aren’t sure what we’re ready for.
I stalk to the front of the group, ignoring the flicker of caution in Priest’s eyes. I can feel them behind me, unsettled by my mania, but I don’t care. Let them be unsettled. My mind is on the only thing that matters: Lucrezia.
The shack stands about a hundred feet ahead, with a single door at the front and some clutter that might be old furniture piled around the outside. The smell is musty, but no distinct odor of rot or anything equally telling. My adrenaline spikes, and my vision narrows on the door.
Bash tries to lighten the mood, though his voice comes out hushed and strained. “All right, fellas, place your bets—think the banjos are on the inside or the outside? I got five bucks on a whole orchestra of ‘em.”
Luciano snorts softly, fingers drumming against his holstered weapon. “Probably both. The question is whether Kristopher’s playing them himself. Maybe we’ll get a private concert.”
I snap, voice cutting through their banter like a blade. “Shut the hell up.”
They both quiet. Priest steps forward, placing a hand gently on my shoulder. “Easy, killer,” he murmurs. “We need to keep it together.”
Saverio gestures with his chin at the shack. “I’m not picking up any movement outside. No guards or cameras or anything.” His voice is even but has an edge.
We creep forward. The forest floor is damp, and our boots leave impressions in the mulch. Birdsong from somewhere overhead only underscores how out of place we are—armed men creeping toward a lone shack at dawn.
Luciano falls in step behind Bash, scanning our flank. “Has anyone considered the next step if the girl isn’t here?”
“We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it,” Priest replies softly.
We near the clearing that surrounds the shack. My pulse thunders and my palms sweat against the grip of my gun. A single battered pickup truck is parked on the side, its tires half- sunken in mud. The cabin’s door is slightly ajar and dark inside. No movement from the windows, but that doesn’t mean a damn thing.
I glance at Saverio. His jaw is set, eyes laser-focused. This is personal for him, too. The guilt he carries for ever doubting his sister cuts deep. Maybe that’s why we’re on the same side now. For all his pride and cruelty, he wants her back as much as I do—maybe not with the same intensity of love, but with regret and familial duty.
I can’t believe we’re this close. Lucrezia could be in there, I think, my chest tightening. She could be locked in that godforsaken shack, alone and in pain. My vision tinges red. I have to stop myself from charging in blindly.
Saverio gestures for me to come closer. I do, glaring at him. He hisses under his breath, “Don’t break formation. We surround the place and check for traps. If you go storming in, you risk her life.”
I bite back a retort because he’s right. God help me; I can’t lose her now, not when we’re mere feet away. “Fine,” I mutter, teeth clenched so hard my jaw aches.
We fan out around the shack, each of us taking a quadrant. The plan is to regroup at the front door in one minute. My footsteps land softly, eyes scanning for tripwires, hidden cameras—anything. But I find nothing, nor do the others.
At last, we reconvene, forming a loose semicircle around the door. We’re here after a week of false leads, broken hopes, and festering anger. My hand trembles on my pistol. My gut screams that Lucrezia is inside, that we’re seconds away from finding her.
“Ready?” Priest asks. We all nod, silent. Then we move.