Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Malice
The docks reeked of dirt, rust, and rot, sending a twinge through my gut. I didn’t often venture around these parts unless I needed to be here for my shipments.
Though tonight I was here for another reason.
I wanted blood.
And not just anyone’s, but from the men who thought they could touch what was mine. I could taste it already—coppery and heavy. My hands itched to deliver pain and shove fear down their throats.
We’d just finished canvassing the perimeter, sealing every access point to the warehouse. Every entrance was covered, occupied by one of my men. The building sat on the edge of the docks, metal rattling softly in the wind. No one inside was slipping past us.
Not without meeting their fate at the hands of my team.
Anger and irritation still sat heavy in my chest because during the sweep, we’d found Lou’s burned-out car down the back of the port.
It was parked behind some shipping containers, barely recognizable.
The fire had scorched it enough that the paint blistered away and glass lay shattered around the vehicle.
Inside sat a body.
The fire had made identification nearly impossible, but what it couldn’t burn away was the glimmer of the gold canines in his teeth. He’d always been proud of those gold crowns, flashing them whenever he smiled.
Payback was coming.
For this.
For many things.
Now I stood between two condemned shipping offices in a dim area that gave us the perfect view of the warehouse we needed to enter. Half the lights were blown, which worked to our advantage, since we predators thrived in darkness.
Two guards paced the front roller door. Another man stood a few yards off near the loading bay with his back to us, his shoulder propped against a stack of wooden crates. He smoked lazily like he didn’t have a care in the world.
But something seemed familiar about him.
The angle of his shoulders. The loose, careless stance. The slight tilt of his head as if he were listening to everything while paying attention to none of it.
I knew that posture.
My pulse spiked.
Ray.
My cousin.
As if he heard my thought, he turned to drop the cigarette from his fingers to the ground and then crushed it with his boot. My own blood was involved. Fury lit me up inside.
This wasn’t a random kidnapping.
This had to be deliberate.
My jaw tightened.
Beside me, Reaper adjusted the strap on his rifle. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. Torment crouched near the front, checking the mag on his handgun with slow, deliberate precision.
The other lieutenants, along with their teams, and Vincent were in position. Silent. Waiting.
I exhaled once.
“If they breathe wrong,” I muttered, eyes still fixed on the warehouse, “slaughter them.”
Reaper’s mouth curved faintly. “Copy.”
Torment tapped his earpiece. “Perimeter set. Snipers ready.”
I checked my watch, then nodded.
The first shot cracked through the night as Reaper, Torment, and I made our way forward.
Ray’s head whipped back as the bullet hit him between the eyes, and his body dropped to the ground.
Shouts tore through the night, colliding with the sharp cracks of gunfire and the heavy thud of boots against concrete.
Metal screamed as bullets ricocheted off shipping containers, each impact sending sparks flying.
The two men at the roller door scrambled for cover behind some crates, but they didn’t make it far before Torment, Reaper, and I filled their bodies with bullets.
We continued to rush forward.
The door we were running toward suddenly burst open, slamming against the wall with a thunderous bang as five more men rolled out with guns raised. They opened fire.
On the right, Torment dropped two of them with precise shots straight between the eyes, their bodies hitting the ground with dull thumps. I went for the man in the center, dropping low and closing the distance before tackling him to the ground.
We struggled briefly for control over his gun, but I overpowered him and tore it from his grasp. Using his own weapon, I pistol-whipped him across the jaw before shoving the barrel into his mouth. Ignoring his choking pleas, I pulled the trigger.
Brain matter and fragments sprayed across the concrete—some landing on my face. Only wet gurgling noises remained as blood poured from the gaping hole in his head and mouth, his lungs expelling his final breath.
I stood swiftly and turned to my left, ready for more, but instead watched Reaper stomp down on a man’s throat, crushing his windpipe.
The final man was already on the ground with a bullet in his head.
Checking the barrel on the dead man’s gun, I noticed there was only one bullet left.
Fucking useless.
I tossed it to the side, wiped the blood off my face with the back of my hand, and picked my own gun up off the ground—one I’d accidentally dropped when I tackled him.
Which was something I definitely wouldn’t be telling Reaper or Torment, or I’d never live it down.
With a glance shared with both men, we stormed forward—Reaper in the lead, Torment behind.
Once we were inside the warehouse, chaos erupted. Men dove for cover, flipping tables to use as protection.
A bullet screamed past my head.
Fuck.
That was close. Too close. If Reaper or Torment saw that, they’d kill me themselves.
I fired back twice. The second shot hit a guy square in the chest, and he went down behind a stack of tires.
“Left!” Torment barked.
Three men rushed in from behind a forklift.
Without hesitation, Reaper stepped in front of me and unleashed a controlled stream of bullets, forcing them back into cover. One tried to make a break for it to a side exit, but Vincent jumped from the darkness, tackling him to the ground and slicing his throat with a crazed smile.
The gunshots and shouting grew louder as other men from my team stormed in.
Off to the right near the entrance, one of my men went down with a grunt, clutching his shoulder, but he didn’t stop; instead, he rolled for cover and kept firing.
With Reaper and Torment surrounding me, I took the chance to scan the room, noticing a hallway further to the left.
The hallway that Gwen had seen on her monitor.
The hallway where Amelia was.
“Reaper!” I jerked my chin toward the entrance.
He nodded, moved in front of me, and began firing—laying down a wall of shots while I sprinted across the open concrete.
Pain sliced hot across my ribs as a bullet tore through my clothes.
I adjusted my balance before I stumbled and touched my fingers to my rib under my jacket and shirt. When I pulled them away, I saw a deep-red smear and felt warmth spreading, but it didn’t matter.
It wasn’t deep or fatal.
And even if it was, it wouldn’t stop me from getting to her.
I hit the hallway, and at the end stood Byron.
Another motherfucking cousin.
He smiled brightly, then raised his weapon—but before he got to fire, I did. His head snapped back as the bullet tore through his skull, spraying blood across the door behind him. He dropped against it, sliding to the floor as blood pooled around him.
Reaper thundered up behind me as the door down the hallway was thrown open and more men poured out.
It didn’t take us long to finish them.
Bodies dropped along the corridor until we reached the locked door.
I didn’t hesitate.
With a snarl, I lifted my leg and kicked it. The wood splintered under the force. Another kick, and the hinges snapped, the door crashing to the ground inside the room.
And there she was.
In a dimly lit room, wrists bound.
The bruising on her jaw that I’d seen on the computer image was worse now, and there was another mark spreading along her temple. More bruises dotted her legs and arms. Her eyes were wide and frightened as tears streamed down her face.
But she wasn’t alone.
Violent fury locked my focus on the man standing behind her with a gun pressed to her temple.
Everything slowed as his hand trembled.
Whether it was from nerves, fear, or the bullet hole that was still healing in his hand.
Maybe it was all three.
My finger rested on the trigger, my gun aimed at him.
He pressed the barrel harder against her temple.
“Drop it!” he screamed.
“You drop it, brother.”
Of course he was involved in this. Ray and Byron were not the smartest Garcia members. I’d known they couldn’t have created this plan alone.
Reaper shifted slightly behind me.
Benjamin’s gaze flicked between us.
Tension thickened, and for the first time in years, pure fear seeped into my mind. One wrong move and she was gone.
I couldn’t let that happen.
I wouldn’t.
I’d get Amelia back to her sister alive, or I’d die trying.
“Let her go,” I demanded.
“No!” he screeched, and I saw her flinch. “You stole what was mine to rule, so I stole something that would hurt your precious doll, knowing if I wrecked her, you would break and crumble,” he spat.
“You know I’ll kill you for this. Doesn’t matter that you’re my blood.”
He sneered and pushed the gun harder against her temple as he laughed. “I’ll take her with me.”
Amelia’s eyes locked onto mine.
Steady.
Trusting.
I smirked up at him. “I didn’t say it would be now. I’m going to drag it out until you’re begging for your life to end.”
His eyes zeroed in on me with pure anger, but with his attention fixed on me, it gave Reaper his chance.
He fired off a shot, hitting Benjamin in the knee and shattering it.
In that moment, he lowered his gun as pain overtook everything, and that was enough time for me to shoot him in the elbow, forcing him to drop his weapon.
Reaper and I rushed over. Reaper tackled Benjamin to the ground, smashing his head on the concrete floor and knocking him unconscious while I was instantly at Amelia’s side.
As she took in shaky breaths, I cut her restraints with the knife from my boot. “Are you hurt?” I kept my voice low and controlled, even though my pulse slammed beneath my skin.
“I-I’ll be okay.”
Gunfire still echoed outside.
“We’re not done,” Reaper muttered, glancing toward the hallway.
As if on cue, boots pounded our way. I pulled Amelia behind me as Reaper rushed to stand beside me.
When two men charged toward us, Reaper and I fired at the same time. They dropped to the floor, dead.
Torment appeared behind them with three of ours, breathing hard but grinning like a lunatic. “I found these rats trying to make a run for it.” The men behind him shoved two others forward.
Michael and Joseph.
All the cousins that Benjamin had been talking to.
Fucking hell.
“Kill them and secure the room,” I ordered.
He nodded once and turned, barking orders and dragging the screaming, pleading cousins out.
I looked back at Amelia. She stood a little unsteadily, her bottom lip trembling. That was when I noticed she still wore only a short white silk nightgown that was now marked with grubby handprints. My stomach churned as something cold and lethal settled in my chest.
After I scanned her bruised skin, I took off my suit jacket, and draped it around her shoulders.
“They touched you,” I said quietly.
She swallowed but lifted her chin. “They tried.”
My gaze shifted to Benjamin, who was still passed out and bleeding on the ground. He was going to suffer for this.
“Reaper, get him patched up. I don’t want him dead yet. Take him to the warehouse on Sutton Street.”
Reaper walked over and easily hoisted Benjamin over his shoulder before stalking from the room.
Turning back to Amelia, I held out my hand. She looked at it, then suddenly slammed into me, wrapping me in a fierce hug.
“Thank you, Malice.”
Crouching slightly, I pressed my forehead briefly to hers. “Anyone who takes what’s mine learns exactly why they shouldn’t.”
Then I guided her out of that hellhole, promising myself that nothing like this would happen again—to her or anyone else that I held dear.