Chapter Forty-two
Ian
“Where the fuck are they?” I murmur to myself, scanning the maps again, tracing the routes, trying to anticipate where the Organization would relocate.
Since my piece-of-shit father died, I’ve been digging. Quietly. Carefully. Trying to untangle the network he built. Trying to save as many souls as I can before they’re auctioned off like property.
I built my own team. Small. Loyal. Off the books.
The kind of men who understand silence and do not ask questions they do not need answered.
Because the FBI is corrupted. My superior is on Rhodes’ payroll.
If I file a report, it disappears into a system designed to bury inconvenient truths.
If I push too hard, I disappear with it.
Click.
Cold metal presses against the back of my head.
“Talk.”
I know that voice.
I turn slowly and see Andres. He looks like hell, jaw tight, eyes dark, tension vibrating through him.
“I need to go save my brother,” he says through clenched teeth. “So fucking talk.”
Brother.
Lorenzo.
My brain stutters. What the fuck happened?
“I meant to help,” I say carefully.
I’m impressed he found me. I knew he was tracking whoever had been sending those anonymous texts. That’s why I rotated phones, changed vehicles, wiped every trace I could.
He still found me.
“Tell me your connection with them before I blow your head off,” Andres growls.
“I have no connection.”
The gun cracks against my face, the impact sharp and brutal.
My vision blurs for a second as pain explodes across my cheek.
I taste blood instantly, metallic and thick on my tongue, sliding down the back of my throat.
The room tilts slightly, but I steady myself.
I don’t fight back. I don’t even raise my hands. Because we’re not enemies.
“You’re fucking lying,” he snaps. “You’re the unknown number.”
Silence.
“Yes.” I don’t bother denying it. “Yes. I was sending the messages.” His grip tightens. “I found out late that Serena was kidnapped,” I continue. “By the time I traced it back to Lauren and Luciano, she was already gone.”
Guilt coils in my chest.
“I tried to find her myself. But it was pointless. Luciano has too many layers. So when I realized Lorenzo was looking too, I fed him whatever I found. Locations. Hints. Movement.”
“Why?” Andres asks, suspicion thick in his voice.
“I was helping my brother.” The words feel strange, heavy.
Since Lorenzo killed my father, I felt relief more than grief.
The feeling unsettled me at first, but it was there all the same, quiet and undeniable.
Then a woman contacted me. She said she was my mother.
Sofia. Lorenzo’s mother. I met her, not knowing what to expect, not knowing what she could possibly want from me. And that is when she told me the truth.
How my father raped her. How he took me from her. How she was forced to let me go. How my so-called mother “died in childbirth,” yet never appeared on the birth certificate.
It all made sense.
A long time ago I tried to extract information from Lorenzo when he was in custody. Not because I was building a case.
Because I was looking for the truth.
Because I needed to know who the fuck I was.
“How do you know any of this?” Andres presses.
“Sofia contacted me,” I say. “But I verified it myself.”
“Why didn’t you contact Lorenzo directly?” he asks. “Why hide behind an unknown number?”
Because I’m a fucking coward.
Because he hates me.
Because if he knew the messages came from me, he would’ve thrown them away.
“Because he wouldn’t have believed me,” I answer instead. “And I couldn’t risk him ignoring the information.”
Andres studies me.
“Are you going to help?” he asks finally, like it costs him something to say it.
He doesn’t trust me.
He shouldn’t.
“Yes.” The word comes out harder than I expect.
Since John died, this has been my life. Hunting the Organization. Trying to undo my father’s damage. Trying to help Serena. Trying to help Lorenzo, even if he’d never know it was me.
No one trusted me.
So I stayed in the shadows.
I always hated my father. Hated everything he stood for. When he forced me to marry Serena, I can barely remember it. I was high on heroin the whole time.
Serena was like a sister to me.
And he knew it.
The sick bastard forced that marriage just to feed his own twisted obsession. He’d been like an uncle to her. And he wanted her.
If Lorenzo hadn’t killed him. . .
I think one day I would have.
“Call your team,” Andres says abruptly. “I’ll explain everything in the car.”
For the first time since this began, the gun lowers from my head.
And for the first time in my life, I’m not choosing procedure.
I’m choosing family.
“Fuck!” Andres shouts. “Lev’s hurt. We need to go inside. Now.”
I nod and signal my team into position.
On the drive here, Andres filled me in. The ambush. The house massacre. Serena taken. Lorenzo going after her alone.
No backup plan.
Fucking idiot.
Is he trying to get himself killed?
“Inside,” I order my team.
I came here intending to arrest Rhodes. Even knowing how unlikely that was. Even knowing how deep his protection runs.
Now? Now I want him dead. The thought sits cold and steady in my mind, stripped of hesitation or doubt.
My superior might be on his payroll, bought and paid for like another piece on the board.
But not the entire team. Some of them still remember what the badge is supposed to mean. And that is enough.
And I have no intention of staying beneath anyone forever. I didn’t survive my father to end up compromised by another man like him.
We breach.
The door explodes inward and—
Everything stops.
Chaos.
Gunfire. Blood. Screams. Bodies.
And yet, in my head, it’s slow motion.
Lev is on the ground, drenched in blood, sprawled over Serena like a human shield. Protecting her with what’s left of his body.
My vision tunnels.
“Xander Rhodes,” I growl, stepping forward. “You’d like to hear you’re under arrest, but you’re fucking dead.”
He sees me.
He smiles.
He knows who I am. Knows what my badge means. Knows it means nothing to him.
“Fuck!” Andres yells behind me.
I move. Fast. Instinct takes over before the thought even finishes forming.
I drag Serena out from under Lev, gripping her arms and pulling her free from the weight of his body.
Lev doesn’t react. Not even a twitch. He’s unconscious.
Too much blood. It spreads dark and thick beneath him, soaking into the floor. Two gunshot wounds. Maybe more.
“Medical team,” I bark into my comm. “Collect Lev. Repeat, Lev is critical.”
Serena is shaking violently.
“They took him,” she sobs, clutching Andres like he’s the only thing keeping her upright. “They shot him. Please. Please go find him.”
Her voice cracks on the last word.
Lorenzo.
“They shot him.”
Andres’ face changes.
“Stay with her,” he orders me, already turning. “I’m going after him.”
He runs.
I want to go after Rhodes. I saw him slip away when we breached. I sent two units after him.
But I want to be the one who ends him. The thought burns through me, cold and deliberate, sharper than the chaos still echoing around us.
Then Serena looks at me. And everything else fades.
The noise. The bodies. The blood on the floor.
Her face is swollen, red and bruised, tears cutting pale tracks through the dirt on her skin. She looks like she’s survived a war.
“Ian,” she whispers.
There’s no hatred in her voice.
Just exhaustion.
“He’s going to be okay,” I say automatically.
I don’t even know how to speak to her anymore. I’ve been a ghost in her life. A shadow. A mistake.
“Lauren,” she whispers.
My brow tightens. “What?”
“She’s behind all of this.”
The words land like a bullet.
What the actual fuck? I knew she worked with Luciano but I didn’t knew that she was behind all of this.
And then Andres’ voice cracks through the station.
“What the fuck?”
My stomach drops.
“Stay here,” I tell Serena, motioning for my team to hold position.
She grabs my hand before I can move.
“I want to come. Please.”
There’s no time to argue. And no part of me believes she’d stay even if I told her to.
I nod once and pull up Andres’ tracker on my phone. We all carry them, no one moves blind.
We run.
I kick the door open and—
I stop.
What the actual fuck?
Lorenzo is in the middle of the room.
On his knees.
Covered in blood.
A gunshot wound in his shoulder, shirt soaked dark, and six bodies scattered around him like something out of a nightmare.
Andres steps forward carefully. “Lorenzo?”
No response.
He’s breathing. Head bowed. Blood dripping slowly onto the floor.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“Fuck if I know,” Andres mutters.
Then Serena steps past me.
She sees him.
Her hand flies to her mouth and the sob that leaves her sounds like something being torn apart.
That’s what makes him lift his head.
His eyes find her immediately.
Clear. Focused. Alive.
“Don’t worry, love,” he says hoarsely. “I’ll erase them.” A faint pause. “All of them.”
Serena runs to him and collapses into his arms. He wraps his right arm around her waist, pulling her close. His left hangs useless, the gunshot clearly wrecked it.
And then I smell it.
Smoke.
“The house is on fire!” I shout. “Go!”
Andres’ men move fast, dragging Serena toward the exit. She resists for half a second before Lorenzo nods at her.
“Go,” he murmurs.
Me and Andres grab Lorenzo under each arm.
He gives me a look.
Fucking hell.
If looks could kill, I’d be on the floor next to those six bodies.
I wasn’t expecting gratitude. But that stare could peel skin.
He stays on his feet with minimal help, stubborn as hell, even bleeding.
On the way out, we see Lauren on the floor.
Rhodes didn’t take her.
Interesting.
I kneel and check her pulse. “She’s alive.”
She coughs, smoke filling her lungs. Her lip is split. Her eye already swelling purple.
“Let her burn,” Andres says flatly.
“No,” Lorenzo says immediately. He looks at Andres. “Take the bitch to Tyurma.”
I glance at him. “To what?”
We step outside into cold air as flames begin licking through the windows.
Lorenzo climbs into the same car as Serena without another word.
I stay back with Andres.
“Tyurma,” he says calmly, watching the fire rise. “It’s Russian.”
He looks at me. “It means Prison.”
I nod slowly.
Seems appropriate.
I grab Lauren by the arm and drag her toward my vehicle. She groans weakly as I open the trunk and shove her insideAs I start to close it, her eyes flutter open. For a second they struggle to focus, unfocused and heavy with whatever they gave her.
Then they find me. They widen instantly. Recognition flashes across her face. Then fear follows, sharp and unmistakable. I give her a small, quiet smile, the kind meant to look reassuring. Gentle. Almost kind.
Then I slam the trunk shut, the sound echoing in the still air. Let’s see how she likes Tyurma.