Chapter Twenty-Eight #2
When I nod at Katia, she looks almost disappointed as she leans back. She glances over at Carlisle, and the sedan pulls away from the curb. My phone buzzes again not long after. I take it out of my pocket and scroll through some of Mathew’s angry texts.
Carlisle sails past a few stoplights, and no one stops us.
It doesn’t take long to reach the abandoned house on the outskirts of the city where London is being kept.
Several guns fire at us, but they bounce off the bulletproof sedan.
I have my gun drawn as the sedan screeches to a halt.
I jump out immediately, firing a few rounds in their general direction.
There are a few yelps and howls of pain as I hit the pavement and roll away behind a nearby wall.
A few seconds later, I jump to my feet and grip the gun with both hands.
I can barely see anything, save for the vague outline of a two-story house with peeling brown paint.
A few more guards come out, and the rest of my men barrel at them.
I pop off a few more rounds and hit some of the guards on duty, cold resolve settling over me as I hear their bodies thump to the ground.
Katia is a blur next to me as she moves to take out a few more.
I hide behind a pillar and duck my head out, aiming blindly into the darkness.
Then, I hear Carlisle from somewhere next to me, grunting and panting.
None of us says anything as we continue firing.
Then Katia materializes out of the smoke with a look of steely-eyed determination. She steps over a few of the bodies, and without stopping, takes down a few more men who appear out of nowhere. Thunder cracks in the distance, and a bolt of yellow lightning streaks across the sky.
I grip the gun tighter, letting it infuse me with power.
Focus. Get London and get out. That’s all you have to do.
The smell of blood and sweat fills the air as I spot a few more men rushing at us.
With Carlisle and Katia on either side of me, we shoot.
Soon, there are more bodies on the ground, and the group of men and women Katia recruited appear in and out of my field of vision.
The steps are illuminated by soft patches of light, and I take them quickly, ignoring the pounding in my ears.
At the top of the stairs, more are waiting for us.
A few bullets streak past me and I flatten myself against a wall.
Someone’s hand appears out of the darkness and knocks the gun from my hand as rage overtakes me.
I growl and lunge blindly forward, smiling when I connect with something big and solid.
Once my enemy is on his back, I straddle him and land a few punches, the sound of flesh connecting with bone oddly satisfying.
After days of keeping myself in check, it feels good to let loose.
London is close, and the thought of saving her has me half-blinded by hope.
Arms wrap around me from behind and I thrash, causing us both to topple backward.
I cough and pat the floor, grateful when my fingers close around the cold barrel of a gun.
Then, I aim it at the nearest person and fire a few rounds.
The brunette stares down at her chest, her mouth forming a surprised “O” seconds before she hits the floor.
Blood rushes from her mouth as she gurgles.
I rise to my feet and step over her. “Where is she being kept?”
Her dark eyes widen, and she gives me a confused look.
I bend down and hoist her up by her neck. “Where is the prisoner being kept? Tell me, and I’ll make your death quick.”
She opens her mouth, and more blood comes out.
Growling, I shake her firmly, and she squeezes her eyes shut.
When they open again, she cocks a finger at me, and I lean in closer. She whispers something barely audible into my ear, sending another chill through me. When she finishes, I let her fall back to the ground.
I put a bullet between her eyes, and she goes still.
Another figure races at me, and I fire without thinking. I put a few more bullets into a man on the floor who was dragging himself to the nearest weapon. He makes a choking sound and goes limp.
Pausing, I reload and take stock of the carnage around me.
The smoke is too thick, and I can’t make out Katia or Carlisle anywhere, but I see that the pile of bodies around me is growing.
Another bullet sails past, clipping my ear.
I roar my displeasure and fire a few rounds in its general direction, grinning triumphantly when I hear yelps of pain.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a flash of movement, and Katia appears, wisps of hair matted to her face and a few blood stains on her clothes.
She meets my gaze and offers me a grim smile before pressing close to me.
Together, we step over a few more bodies and venture through the double doors ahead.
Inside, there’s an arch, high ceilings, and a staircase, but I can’t make out anything else. Slowly, we move forward, our guns drawn, and our breathing quiet. I expect Michael to step out of the shadows with an inert London in tow, but I shove away the image and focus on the task at hand.
Imagining putting a bullet through Michael’s head helps.
As does picturing Lance next to him.
I want to be the one to take them down and then stand over them as the light leaves their eyes and they realize they’ve lost.
I will take care of those two personally as soon as I get the chance.
They should’ve known better than to cross me.
Suddenly, there’s a grunting sound, and Carlisle steps forward, cradling his arm to his chest, his face covered in sweat and blood.
“How many people have we lost?”
Carlisle’s eyes are on Katia’s face as he answers. “Two.”
I lower the gun and frown. “We can’t lose more. There’s not enough of us.”
I planned it that way on purpose, not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention.
Mathew has probably already figured out something is wrong. I have no idea if he’ll come after us or leave us to fight our way out.
“There are more on standby,” Katia tells me. “I called in a few favors.”
“You shouldn’t have gone behind my back,” I growl. “I’ll deal with your insubordination later.”
I’m grateful to her all the same.
Katia could’ve gone to my father or Mathew, and she would’ve been well within her rights. As my personal assassin, it’s her job to keep me safe, and launching a half-cocked rescue attempt is anything but safe.
It’s not lost on me that I couldn’t do this without her.
Still, knowing she involved more people makes me angrier than I have the right to be, given the situation.
She’s a trained killer. She’s supposed to make decisions like this, and you know it. You’re just pissed because you didn’t think of it.
With time running out, my sole focus has been on London and making sure I get her back.
Thankfully, Katia isn’t bogged down by the same fears and worries.
It makes me even more relieved to have her by my side as Carlisle joins us, and we search the house.
He rips off a piece of his shirt and wraps it around his upper shoulder, which is oozing blood.
The chaos continues outside as bullets whiz past and lodge themselves into the windows.
Shards of glass fly in every direction, and I’m sure everyone in the house must know we’re here.
I wonder if any Fitzpatricks or Everetts are nearby, but I know that’s just wishful thinking.
They’re not stupid enough to be anywhere near this, despite the number of guards they have posted.
They knew you were going to come for her.
We round a corner, and Katia pushes me against a wall and takes a few more people out.
I reach for the nearest gun when I run out of ammo and follow in her wake, taking an odd sense of satisfaction from watching her work.
After doing a sweep of the bottom floor, Katia leads us back to the stairs and motions to Carlisle.
No one is waiting for us at the top of the stairs.
The carpeted hallway is empty and still.
I hear a scuffle to my right and dart that way before Katia can stop me. I round the corner, and all I see are paintings on the walls and a few closed doors. Then, I hear a muffled voice and creep toward it.
Somewhere far behind, I hear Carlisle’s heavy breathing, but I ignore it and home in on the whimpers.
Please, let her be okay.
I have no idea who I’m praying to, or if I even believe in a higher power, but I do know London doesn’t deserve to be caught in the crosshairs of my screw-up.
Frowning, I grip the gun tighter and step over another body. When I round another corner, I squint and see London’s hair, crusted with blood, with a gun pressed to the side of her head. I step forward slowly, and the hand holding the gun yanks her backward, but I hear the man’s uneven breathing.
Good.
I want him to be afraid.
“It’s over,” I say calmly. “You have nowhere to go. Let her go, and I’ll consider making your death quick.”
A low chuckle follows. “I know you’re not going to follow through on that.”
I know the voice instantly.
“I’m a man of my word, Lance,” I maintain, taking a few more steps forward.
I study him, noting the tremor in his hands and the way he’s favoring one leg. His hair has streaks of blood in it.
He looks worse than I imagined, and it makes me feel marginally better.
You should’ve known better than to underestimate him. You’ve been so focused on Michael that you failed to notice the weasel by his side.
Lance is exactly the kind of man who operates in the shadows and triumphs because people underestimate him.
I’m one of the idiots who didn’t give him a second thought, save for his role as Michael’s accomplice.
London is deathly still, and when I look closer, I see that her mouth is taped and her hands are bound behind her. I move forward until she’s only a few feet away, close enough now to notice a gash on the side of her head and her wrinkled clothing covered in dirt and streaks of blood.
Her golden eyes meet mine, and it sends a bolt of electricity through me.