2. Leona
LEONA
H ooked Nose shouted something in a gruff, threatening voice and then waited, like he’d commanded I hand over my knife, but that was not happening.
I tightened my grip while I watched both Puffer Jacket and Hooked Nose for signs of movement.
When Hook lunged, I steeled myself. Wynn had taught me well.
I darted to the side, avoiding his grasp, and drew my knife across his outer arm. The skin split into a long gash, and blood dripped to the floor.
Damn, Ryu’s knife was sharp.
Hook stared at his arm, those beady black eyes wide in disbelief, before fury rolled across his face.
He lunged again, but I dodged, and this time drew my knife down his back.
In a rage, he shouted something. Puffer Jacket staggered into our cell, heading straight for me.
Before I could avoid him, a body slammed into him and he flew back against the cell bars.
Max.
“Cut my ties,” Max demanded. I hesitated only a second before I did as he asked. His right arm hung limply at his side, and he grimaced in pain as he moved, but he raised his left into a fist. The Max problem could turn into a Max solution if we could get out of here.
We stood together as the Albanians righted themselves. They were massive compared to me, and slightly larger than Max, but we could take them.
“Drop your knife,” Hook said in broken, accented English.
“No,” I replied.
“ What are you doing?” Max asked in Italian.
I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye.
Already his breaths were uneven. His typically immaculate suit was now crumpled and grimy, and his disheveled blond hair fell limply across his eyes.
Again, I wondered when they’d taken him. How bad were his injuries?
“ Getting out of here ,” I responded.
He didn’t have time to respond before the two Albanians lunged at us again.
I danced out of the way of Hook, ducked behind him, and slammed the blade deep into his back.
I yanked it free before he could turn, and he dropped to his knees.
Without hesitation, I plunged the knife into his neck.
The man grasped at his throat, blood pouring over his hands. His eyes went wide, and he collapsed.
One down, one to go.
Puffer Jacket shouted again while he leapt toward Max, but Max dodged his punch and landed one of his own against the man’s jaw. I stalked forward, ready to sink my knife into his heart, when four more Albanians rushed into the room.
I whirled, ready to face them. Max would have to deal with Puffer Jacket alone.
This time, I ran at them . I jumped on one, stabbing my knife under his chin, up into his jaw.
Blood spurted across my face, drenching my hands.
I yanked the blade free as I dropped to the ground and turned to the next, but he got a lucky backhand across my face and I fell back against the wall, reeling.
I blinked, trying to get my bearings, while my grip tightened on the knife.
If I lost it, I was dead. My hands were bloody, but the knife felt steady in my grip.
I couldn’t let them get the upper hand. Wynn taught me to rely on my speed and agility against a larger opponent, and I’d do exactly that.
I lashed out at the next guy, slicing a gash down his face.
He recoiled, stepping out of my reach. Max shouted, and I glanced behind me when a hand tangled in my hair and yanked me back.
I screamed, the pain searing my skin, as I stabbed blindly above me.
The knife connected with something because the man hissed and jerked my neck back again.
I couldn’t drop the knife.
I stabbed again, but a punch connected with my stomach, and suddenly I was choking on nothing. The fist in my hair yanked back again while I doubled over.
“Leona!” Max yelled, slamming into the man who held my hair. The grip loosened as the three of us fell to the floor in a tangle of limbs. I was still struggling to breathe when Max’s hand clamped on my arm and yanked me to my feet.
When I looked at my hand, the knife was gone.
My eyes went wide as I searched the floor. “Shit!”
I couldn’t see it anywhere. No .
“Get on your knees,” a harsh voice said in front of me.
A gun barrel pointed directly at my face.
Fuck .
The barrel pressed against my cheek. Max faced down a gun of his own beside me. The sound of the gun cocking reverberated off the metal walls.
“On your knees.”
Max and I locked eyes.
If I got shot and died here, I’d never feel Cas’s arms around me again. I’d never hear Wynn’s voice, see Ciel’s smile, spar with Ryu’s sass, or connect with Obi’s mind.
With my hands fisted at my sides and my teeth gritted, I lowered to my knees. Max did the same.
The man removed the cold gunmetal from my cheek. Without warning, he whipped the pistol across my face, and I sprawled to the floor, gasping in pain. My head swam, but Max shouted something above me.
“Bitch,” the man said behind me. His hand fisted in my hair again, pulling me backward.
I could do nothing to fight as he dragged me out of the cell and through the hallways of the ship.
I glimpsed a massive room full of machines while he dragged us down a set of stairs, and I flinched as the grinding sounds filled my ears.
“Leona!” Max called from somewhere behind me.
“Max,” I groaned. My vision blurred. The Albanians seemed to drag us through the entire depths of the ship, through hallways lined with rooms and countless sets of stairs that went down one area and up another.
I thought I caught a whiff of some sort of food smell, but my stomach turned and dizziness overwhelmed me. The man’s fingertips dug into my scalp.
If I got another concussion, Willow would be furious. How many concussions could you get before you had permanent brain damage? Something told me I was about to find out.
He dragged me through a doorway, and I let out a shout as my knee banged against more metal.
Blood, coppery and bitter, tinged my mouth.
Finally, the man dropped me to the floor in front of a massive panel of controls and navigation tools.
Wide paneled windows stretched across the front of the room, giving me a view of a cloudy sky. It had to be the bridge.
My heart pounded. My lungs were on fire. Slowly, I pushed up from the ground to face three men staring down at me like I was a piece of shit on their shoe.
Max dropped to my side. Blood dripped from a cut somewhere in his hair. I no doubt had something matching on my face from where that bastard pistol-whipped me because when I wiped my face, blood stained my arm.
The guns pointed at us again .
“What do you want?” Max asked, kneeling. That arm still hung limply at his side, but his other hand curled into a fist.
One of the Albanians crouched in front of us, a man with pale skin, yellow teeth, hollow cheeks, and hair buzzed close to his scalp. He looked at us both. “What a ruckus you two have caused.”
“Let her go,” Max said. My head whipped toward him, surprised. “You’ve got me. That’s what your bosses wanted, isn’t it?”
The man snickered. “She’s worth just as much as you are, Volpe.”
What the hell? I opened my mouth to question, but Max held his hand out in front of me, almost in warning. “She knows nothing. She’s a liability. Baggage. But with me, your bosses could actually get something valuable.”
My skin bristled, and my jaw clenched. Asshole .
Buzz Cut’s eyes shifted back to me, dragging slowly down my body. I refused to recoil or cower in fear at the lecherous look in his eyes. This guy didn’t faze me. “She’s payment for the money we’ve lost since you killed Vero. But you will be of use in our…negotiations with the Camorra.”
The Camorra? What did the Camorra want with Max? Or the Albanians? My brain was barely keeping up with whatever discussion Max thought he was holding, but it stuck on the first thing Buzz Cut said.
Payment for my father. For the money they’d lost since he died. For all the shit things they used to do together. Bile coated the back of my throat. Even from his grave, my father was still fucking with my life.
“You touch me, I’ll cut your balls off and then I’ll feed them to you.”
Any of my men would do the same.
If they found me in time.
Buzz Cut’s yellow teeth split into a sinister smile. “I will enjoy watching you break, right alongside our other product. ”
My blood ran cold. Other product?
“You can’t touch us without your boss’s permission.
” Max drew the man’s attention back to himself.
He wore that passive mask, the one that was so out of place on the face of the boy I knew.
Each time I saw it, I was more and more convinced that this was his real skin.
“You don’t want to ruin whatever they have planned, do you? ”
Buzz Cut cocked his head to the side. “Patience, Volpe. We have plenty planned for you and the Vero bitch.”
“Fuck you,” I bit.
The Albanian barked a sharp laugh. Instead of answering, he smacked me across the face. I gasped, fingers reaching for my stinging cheek. “Bitches keep their mouths shut.”
“Suck my dick.”
“Enough,” Max warned, though whether he was speaking to me or Buzz Cut I wasn’t sure. He angled his body between us as if he were trying to block me, to protect me.
Buzz Cut stepped forward. My fingers flexed into a fist. How was I supposed to play this? Fight back? Let him threaten us and pretend to be afraid?
What would my guys do?
“What do you want with the Camorra?” I asked.
Buzz Cut laughed, but it was all venom and hard edges. “We’re at war, little bitch. It’s simple hostage negotiation. You two will give us the upper hand once and for all.”
War . I looked at Max, eyes wide, but his betrayed no surprise at all. What did he know about this? Was this what he was talking about with a war on all sides ?
“I’ll help you negotiate if you let her go,” Max said, avoiding my questioning gaze.
Buzz Cut threw his head back in a guffaw. “Not a chance.”