17. Xeno
17
XENO
THE HUNT
I wake to chaos.
"—been five hours with no contact—"
"—no trace on the security cameras—"
"—House is completely locked out of the system—"
"—someone had inside access—"
The voices swirl around me like smoke, gradually resolving into familiar tones. My brother's face swims into focus first, then Corso and Silvio hovering nearby. The clinic room spins as I push myself up, fighting against the lingering effects of the tranquilizers.
"Where's Dani?" The words scrape my dry throat raw. My tongue feels like sandpaper, and my muscles protest every movement, but none of that matters.
The silence that follows tells me something is very wrong. “Where is she?”
“Dani was taken,” Youric says, his expression dire. “Kidnapped while we were sorting this out.”
"Fuck. I “need my phone.” When no one moves, I roar. “Now.”
“I’m on it,” Corso nods. “I’ll have someone bring it here.”
I ignore the way my hands shake. The tranqs have left me weak, but the tracking app installed on my phone will point us in a direction if not an exact location.
“I can locate her."
"What?" Silvio leans in, his professional mask cracking to show genuine surprise. "How?"
“Yourice injected her with a tracker last night during her follow-up visit.” At their looks of disbelief and judgment, I bare my teeth in what might be a smile or a snarl. "Don't fucking judge me. I promised her she would be safe with me. Woman's got a man who shot her after her, and now, he has her in his grasp. Fuck. Where’s my phone.”
Some non-descript man enters. “The phone you requested, sir.”
Once it's in reach I snatch it, unlocking it with my six-digit PIN. The time it takes the app to open seems to drag. A red dot pulses on the screen, steady and sure. My brother leans over my shoulder, his breath catching. "Alaska? What the hell—"
"Coordinates put her somewhere near Anchorage," I say, already calculating flight times and weapons we'll need. "Moving fast—probably a private jet."
Silvio curses softly in Italian. "How did they get her out? The Governor's security—"
"Was compromised," Corso cuts in. "Rhys helped them. He's gone dark, along with that nurse."
The betrayal doesn't surprise me—I've never trusted Dani's team the way she does. Did. But the sophistication of the operation sends ice through my veins that has nothing to do with the lingering tranquilizers.
The door bursts open with enough force to crack the wall. Cookie stands there, her usual impeccable appearance, fuck-with-me at your own risk persona. Her tactical gear is state of the art, her wild curls are contained in a severe bun. I've never seen her this ready for battle—the sight sends fresh adrenaline flooding my system.
"I know where they're taking her." Her voice is tight with controlled panic. "It's not good."
I swing my legs off the bed, ignoring the wave of dizziness. "Talk."
“Omar’s compound outside Anchorage. They took her home.” She meets my eyes, and I see real fear there. "Her father's involved. Luis and the elder Dominguez, Javier, are business partners. Dani was a gift to Oscar and Omar in exchange for Luis’s security in the Dominguez organization.”
“And why should we trust you, Cookie?”
“Because I’m the cook who slipped her the knife five years ago to escape.”
I narrow my eyes in suspicion. “Why?”
Cookie swallows, but I don’t miss the flash of pain. “Dani’s mother was stolen from her family by Luis Alonzo. Her father was made to pay for his crimes—eventually,” she looks away but continues. “We couldn’t get Celeste back, once she had kids, Luis had leverage.”
Silvio steps up. “Athalie is Dani’s first cousin. It’s why I brought Dani here and hired Athalie to protect and train her.”
The truth hits like a blade between my ribs. Her father sold her? The nightmares, the trauma, her trust issues, are because of him. Luis and Oscar, monsters who taught her that love was just another word for control.
"Get me my sword," I tell my brother. This ends tonight. “We’ll need a blow torch, slim grenades, stun guns, zip ties, duct tape—”
"You can barely stand," he protests, but he's already moving toward the door. He knows that tone in my voice.
“Fuck all that.” I think of Dani’s taste, her laugh, her deadly grace, and I know.
I know I’ll walk into hell with this woman, and we’ll dance through the flames to see who’ll burn first. I force myself to my feet, letting rage burn away the weakness. "Cookie, what else?"
Cookie pulls out her tablet, fingers flying over the screen. "Omar's compound is officially a hunting lodge. Unofficially, it's a fortress. Private army, state-of-the-art security. And..." She hesitates.
"Spit it out." Dani thinks she doesn’t need me, but I need her to see how I love. I won’t be the man to fail her.
"It's where they used to break people. Before Omar took over the family business. It's where he learned his trade."
The implications turn my stomach, but I force the emotion down. Later. I'll feel it later, after I've painted that compound red with the blood of everyone who thought they could take what's mine.
"How long until they land?"
“Two hours, maybe less." Cookie's already coordinating with her security team. "We can have a jet ready in twenty minutes."
"Make it ten." I check the tracker again. Still moving, still alive. "Corso, you with me?"
He chambers a round in his pistol. “Till the end. But you should know—her crazy ass almost shot me. She thought she was protecting you."
"I know." And I do. My fierce, broken warrior, trying so hard to trust nothing but her precious House. "That's why we're going to get her back. So I can spend the rest of our lives giving thanks at her altar.”
My phone chimes—the tracker's moving. They haven’t landed.
"Time to go hunting," I say, and feel my lips curl into the smile that made me infamous in certain circles. The one that reminds people why the Voss family name is whispered with fear.
“I’ll bring added supplies. Just in case,” Corso says, typing something into his phone.
They took my woman. They’re gonna learn today about the hell that awaits. Fuck being a hero. I’m the dark horseman of the apocalypse—I will slaughter. The retribution I plan to mete out darkens my already damaged soul, from protector to executioner. All I feel is ice in my veins and fire in my heart as I prepare to paint these walls with the blood of the men who hurt, ma cherie amour.