Chapter 39
TYLER
STALKING BACK THROUGH the endless corridors and great rooms, I wade through the carnage as the images I just bore witness to threaten to solder themselves in.
Boots filled with lead, every step growing heavier than the last, I fight to make it back to the top of the stairs.
Despite Larissa’s warning, nothing could have prepared me for Ciro’s treasure trove.
Sensing the shift in me, my team gives me a wide berth as I approach, and a body comes into view just outside Ignacio’s bedroom door.
It’s then that I notice the hair—the color of hers, but that’s where the similarities end—as my Beta team leader speaks up.
“We couldn’t manage it, sorry, man. It’s like he was ready for us and threw everything he had our way—”
“He was,” I state, knowing that’s the truth of it as Donovan joins me and we both survey the body at my feet. Though mutilated by gunshots, his profile remains crystal clear, as does the truth I already knew.
“You asked them to take Ignacio alive?” Donovan prompts.
“I asked them to try.”
“Except that’s not Ignacio,” Donovan imparts grimly.
“I know,” I tell him, my suspicion confirmed as I sink where I stand.
Because I knew whoever was behind that door was not only ready but baiting us in an unmistakable way.
A way that no sixteen-year-old terrified kid could so artfully fire off such an arsenal.
Even with that glaring truth, in ignorance and in vain, I had hoped it was him. And Ignacio’s not the only one missing.
I glance over at Donovan, who’s already reading my line of thought. “Where’s Julien?”
“Still on the hunt.” For Antony. One of two wild cards we were unable to pinpoint before raiding the mansion. The whereabouts of the second wild card making themselves glaringly known and prompting my next question.
“Larissa?” I swallow, hearing the cadence of my own voice as all the trust I gave—could give her—vaporizes to ash, to nothing.
“She’s being treated at an emergency clinic,” Russell echoes over the line. “Been there for close to two hours now.”
“Who’s covering her?” I ask, relieved for the update, until a damning silence ensues and I bark out my demand. “Who’s fucking covering her?”
More damning silence.
“Nest!” I roar in demand.
Russell replies a beat later, trepidation clear. “He insisted, man, and she’s alone—”
“We didn’t anticipate her driving into town—” Donovan interjects.
“No!” I boom, cutting my glare toward Donovan.
“I didn’t make the call,” Donovan defends weakly as I refuse every word being spoken while he tries to placate me. “He just checked in, all is quiet.”
“Nest, next channel,” I bellow, voicing my command before Russell gets a chance to utter a word. “Get him out, now!”
“We don’t have anyone close,” Russell counters grimly.
“We’re scattered,” he adds as I gun my feet, already making a beeline for the Black Hawk idling on Ciro’s front lawn.
Thundering down the mansion’s endless porch steps, I tap my earpiece again, frantically searching for a lifeline. “Royalty! What’s your twenty?”
“Too far out,” Tobias imparts gravely, evidence enough he’s caught wind of everything over the wire. Aware that I fucked up—again.
As I shoot across the driveway, I pass the medivac team wheeling Cosima DiCicco safely toward a silent ambulance.
After jumping into the bird, I glance back to see Donovan on my heels, stopping short when he sees the resignation in my eyes.
Hesitantly, he gives me a solemn nod before turning back toward Ciro’s house of fucking horrors, where he’ll be spending his next few days—if not longer—sweeping up and collecting our takeaway.
At my barked command, the Black Hawk immediately starts to lift, the scene below me cut from view as we shift direction. As the blades begin to eat the miles, I flit through every possible scenario—her motives, truths, and deceptions.
Hackles steadily rising as I stop on her most significant omission, as my question painfully echoes back to me—“How many of your father’s men are in love with you?”