Chapter 44 Malice
MALICE
I take a turn at breakneck speed, the tires squealing in protest as the car screeches around the corner. Vic doesn’t even say anything, just holding on to the handle by the window and keeping his gaze locked straight ahead.
That’s how I know my twin is as serious about finding Willow as we all are. Usually, he’d be giving me shit for my sloppy driving, but none of us care about that right now.
There’s only one thing on our minds. One thought pulsing urgently through the car as if all three of us share a brain.
Find Willow.
Find Willow.
Find Willow.
We were able to track the car that took her, thank fuck. It was hard, and only due to Vic’s exceptional skills at hacking and tracing shit that we were able to pick up the trail at all.
Using the footage Vic got, we figured out that whoever this fucker is, he took her to a building on the outskirts of Detroit. It wasn’t much to go on, but we didn’t have time to do more recon or strategizing. So as soon as we had that info, we piled into my car and peeled out.
Now we’re getting close, and as we get nearer to the building where we think she’s being held, Ransom and Vic start to prepare, grim expressions on both of their faces.
They’re both armed, and they check their weapons and go over the gear we have with us.
We have no way of knowing what’s waiting for us in there, so before we left the warehouse, we hastily stocked the car with everything we thought we might need.
In all the video footage we were able to scan, it looked like just one guy was responsible for nabbing Willow—but maybe he has friends or backup who were waiting for him at the spot he took her to.
We have to be prepared for whatever the fuck is about to go down.
One man. Ten men. Doesn’t fucking matter.
I’ll kill them all if I have to, to get her back.
I pull the car to a stop a block away from the building, grabbing my own gun and stuffing it into the waistband of my pants as I meet Vic’s and Ransom’s gazes.
“Ready?” I ask.
“Yeah.” Ransom’s voice is hard. “Let’s fucking do this.”
“If he’s already hurt Willow…”
Vic trails off, his jaw clenching. The fingers of one hand were tapping on his thigh for most of the drive here, and I can tell he’s more agitated than he usually lets himself get, his emotions churning just beneath the surface.
And he doesn’t need to finish that sentence. It’s unspoken, but we all know what he’s thinking. If the man who took Willow has tortured her or hurt her in any way, we won’t just kill him. We’ll end him slowly and fucking painfully.
“Yeah.” I nod, reaching out to grip Vic’s shoulder, grounding and steadying him. “We know. We won’t let that happen.”
He sucks in a breath and lets it out, giving me a sharp nod to let me know he’s good to go.
I shove my car door open, and we all get out, our gazes scanning our surroundings with practiced thoroughness.
All three of us are on edge and wary. Walking into something like this is dangerous as fuck, but there was never any doubt that we would come.
We failed Willow once, putting her in danger even as we tried to protect her. We won’t let that happen again.
Vic jerks his chin to the left, and we all head in the direction he indicated, approaching the building from the side.
The place Willow’s kidnapper took her to looks like an office building more than a warehouse or something like that, but it’s clearly empty, sitting abandoned like so many structures on the edges of Detroit.
There are a few places to take cover, dumpsters and small trees, and we use them to stay hidden as we approach the building, our weapons drawn.
It’s a damn good thing we have signals in place for shit like this.
The three of us have been working together for so long, doing jobs together since before I went to prison, which means we don’t even have to speak as we move.
When Vic signals for us to pause, we do, waiting while he peers ahead.
When he gives the all clear, we keep moving.
The outer door is locked when we get to it, and Vic moves silently ahead to start picking it. He’s the best at this sort of thing, his hands steady and sure despite the tension in his body. Ransom and I take up spots on either side of him, guns raised as we scan for threats.
Less than two minutes later, the lock clicks, and Vic pushes the door open, letting us inside.
Ransom covers Vic as he shuts the door, and I scan the entryway quickly, checking for threats and any surveillance equipment. But I come up empty.
“You see any signs of cameras?” I ask Vic, knowing he’s better at spotting hidden cameras than I am.
He glances around, then shakes his head. “No.”
“Let’s keep moving, then.”
Just like the outside, the interior of the building makes it clear that the place is abandoned. We pass through several empty rooms as we move through it, checking each one for Willow or anyone trying to slow our approach.
“Clear down here,” Ransom whispers, and we move as a unit up the stairs.
The second floor is just like the first. No signs of life. No gunmen waiting in the shadows to take us out. But that doesn’t make me feel any better as we head to the third floor—because there’s no sign of Willow yet either.
She’s here. She has to be. Vic wasn’t wrong.
We move along the hall quietly, and we get about halfway down it when a sound up ahead makes me stop in my tracks. My brothers stop too, all of us listening intently.
My heart pounds like a drum, hard and fast.
Is that her?
The three of us exchange glances, adjusting our grips on our weapons. Vic makes a signal with his hand, and we move toward the sound in unison. We keep our footsteps light, cautious and wary, but we move as fast as we can.
If it is her, we need to get there. Now.
There’s a closed door at the end of the corridor, and as we near it, I hear another sound. A man’s voice, muffled, but clearly audible.
I hold up a hand, getting my brothers’ attention. Using gestures and hand signals, we coordinate our attack in silence. We have to get in fast and hit hard, taking out whoever’s in there before they can hurt Willow. It’s risky, but we have no other choice.
Vic’s gun has a silencer on it, and I nod to him, stepping aside with Ransom so he can shoot the lock off the door.
He steps forward, lining up his shot as Ransom and I press our backs against the wall on either side of the door.
I catch Vic’s gaze, and we silently count down like we’ve done dozens of times before.
Three…
Two…
One.
Vic squeezes the trigger, shooting out the lock, and as pieces of drywall and wood explode outward, I pivot toward the door and kick it in, putting all my strength behind the blow. It gives way, swinging inward, and the three of us move in formation, pouring through the now open doorway.
The room is dark, and before I can get my bearings, a bright light swings around to face us.
“Fuck!” Ransom curses, and the three of us break apart, moving in different directions to create separate targets as we search for our enemy.
“Malice, watch out!”
Willow’s voice is a harsh shriek, and I glance up, catching sight of a shadow hurtling toward me. I pivot, but not fast enough—the dark shape plows into my side, tackling me hard.
The brunt of the blow lands on the side where I’m still healing, and it’s a damned good thing that the injury has healed up pretty well by now. But it still knocks the wind out of me, the hit knocking me off balance more than it would’ve if he’d struck my other side.
I grunt, staggering as I fight to keep my footing and my attacker tries to bring me down.
Before the fucker can get another hit off on me, I lash out, pistol whipping him in the temple and then trying to shoot him, but he grapples with me for the weapon.
He must’ve realized that he hit a weak spot with his first tackle, because he punches my side, a left hook that lands directly on my freshly healed wound.
Nausea rushes through me, and he uses the small window where my guard is down to twist the gun out of my grip, sending it clattering across the floor.
He shoves me hard against the wall and pulls his own gun from the waistband of his pants, but before he can press his advantage, Ransom bum rushes him.
“Pin him!” I snarl to Ransom as they struggle in the dim light. “He’s got a fucking gun!”
Willow’s kidnapper throws an elbow backward, catching Ransom in the throat, and when my brother splutters and coughs, the other man breaks out of his hold.
He steps away quickly, opening up space between them as he raises his weapon, aiming right for Ransom.
But before he can pull the trigger, a quiet sound cuts through the air—a gun firing through a silencer.
The bullet from Vic’s gun slams into the kidnapper’s chest with a wet thud, and the man staggers backward. He lets out a guttural noise, swaying on his feet… and then he falls face down onto the floor in a heap.
Silence falls in the room, and it seems almost deafening after the shouts and sounds of fighting that filled it a moment ago.
“Check on Willow,” I tell Ransom, breathing hard, my gaze never leaving the prone body on the floor. “Make sure she’s alright.”
He moves quickly toward the spot where she’s tied up to a chair, and I’m vaguely aware of Vic following him.
I want to go too, want to pull Willow against my body until I can feel her heart beating against mine—just to prove to myself that she really is still alive, and that she’s in one piece.
At least she’s in good shape and conscious enough to have called out to me earlier, and I cling to that small reassurance as I stride over to the body on the ground.
Someone has to make sure this fucker is dead and gone. To make sure he’s breathed his last breath and can never put his hands on Willow again.