GABRIEL
The blacked-out SUV screeches to a halt half a block from Razor's dive bar. I don't wait for the driver to kill the engine. I'm already moving. Stepping out into the warm Vegas air with two guns on me and a knife strapped to my ankle. My heart is a war drum in my chest, but my hands are steady.
They have to be.
A blueprint flashes across my mind, grainy, rushed, pulled from Kale's feed ten minutes ago.
Back hallway. Two exits. Office in the rear that wasn't on any official layout.
That's where they'll keep her. Or where they want me to think she is.
The Collector's men could be anywhere. Inside.
Outside. Already watching me. Already waiting for me to make the wrong move.
Kale's voice crackles through the earpiece. "Eyes on the building. Razor's crew is inside, at least twelve visible. No sign of extra muscle from the Collector yet. You sure about going in alone, boss?"
No sign. That means nothing. Not with a man like him.
"They're here," I mutter. "You just don't see them yet."
A beat of silence, followed by, "You want me to move in closer?"
I chew his question over. This is the part where men get it wrong. Where they trust the wrong person. Move too early. Trip the wire.
Kale sent the layout.
Kale set the eyes.
Kale is the only reason I know where to look.
And that's exactly why I don't trust a single piece of it.
If he's clean, he holds the perimeter. If he's not… I'm already walking into a trap designed just for me.
"Positive," I growl finally. "If anyone follows me in, Audra dies. Those are the rules tonight."
They always make rules when they think they're in control. They're not.
"Stay back. Watch the exits. Nobody leaves. Nobody goes in unless I say."
I wait a heartbeat, "And Kale?"
"Yeah?"
"If I don't walk out with her in thirty minutes…" My gaze lifts to the bar. To the doors. To the shadows that feel a little too still. "…burn the place down."
"Understood."
I reach up and hesitate for half a second. Because once I cut comms, I'm blind to everything except what's in front of me. Except her. That's the only variable that matters.
I rip the earpiece out and drop it on the ground. No team. No one close enough to spook them. Just me. And my little backup surprise…
Because I need to get to her before anyone panics. Before anyone gives the order. Before anyone decides she's expendable. For her.
The bar is a joke of peeling paint and rows of bikes parked out front like sleeping predators. Too open. Too loud. Too easy. Which means the real threat isn't in the room.
The stench of stale beer and desperation hits me the second I push through the door. Every head turns. Razor's men are scattered around the room, hands hovering near weapons the moment they recognize me. They'd better. I check the corner; he's there. Good.
I don't nod.
I don't stop.
I walk straight through the bar like I own it, eyes locked on the back hallway. Counting. Positions. Angles. Who's watching me, and who isn't.
One idiot tries to step in front of me. I don't even slow down. Just slam my elbow into his throat and keep moving while he drops.
The backroom door is open. And there she is.
Audra. Tied to a metal chair in the center of the room, wrists and ankles bleeding from fighting the zip ties, her shirt soaked with sweat and clinging to her body.
I take in the blood on her lip, the bruise blooming on her cheek, and her wide, frantic eyes that grow impossibly larger the second they land on me.
"Gabe—" Her voice cracks, raw from screaming. "No! Don't—please don't do this!"
A man whom I recognize as Razor—from the pictures my security team assembled after Audra told me about him—lounges against the wall, gun in hand, grinning like a shark.
Flea, who was also in the dossier, and a few other men stand nearby, looking uneasy but still loyal for now.
I don't look at any of them. Only her. I don't give a shit that Flea helped Audra get out the first time; he deserves whatever is coming for him now: a death that will most likely be too quick.
My chest caves in at the sight of her hurt, terrified. For me. Fuck. I drag in a slow breath, forcing it down, forcing everything down. She's… not just another weakness. She's the weakness. The only thing that's ever come close to bringing me to my knees.
I take one step into the room, hands visible, every instinct screaming at me to go to her. To tear the place apart. I don't. Years of control lock my body in place. "I'm here. Alone. Like you wanted." Razor laughs. "Look at that. The big bad capo came running for pussy. How touching."
Audra thrashes harder against the ties, fresh blood runs down her wrists. "Gabe, please—go! I love you, okay? I love you! Don't trade yourself for me—they'll kill you!"
Hearing her say I love you rips something open inside me.
It's the first time she's said the words, and it's while she's bleeding and begging me to save myself.
My jaw clenches so hard it aches. I keep my eyes on her, letting her see everything I feel—how much she means to me, the obsession, the absolute refusal to let her die here.
"Baby," I promise softly, "I'm not leaving without you."
Razor steps forward, gun raised. "Wrong answer, D'Amato. Drop your weapons. Now."
I slowly pull both guns from my holsters and set them on the floor, then kick them toward him. The knife follows. Empty-handed. For her. Razor's grin widens. "Smart boy."
Audra is sobbing now, still fighting the ties like a wild animal. "Gabe… no… please…"
I take another step closer, eyes never leaving hers.
"I love you," I tell her, loud enough for the whole room to hear. " I'm not letting them take you from me. Not today. Not ever."
Her tears fall faster. "I love you too," she chokes out. "That's why you can't do this?—"
Razor cocks his gun. "Touching. But time's up. Say goodbye, sweetheart."
My hands curl into fists at my sides. Come on, you piece of shit. Make your move. I'm done watching her sitting there, tied to that fucking metal chair, blood dripping down.
I assure her, "It's going to be okay, baby. I've got you. I'm not leaving without you."
She sobs harder, redoubling her struggle against the ties. "You can't—Gabe, please?—"
A crackle of static cuts through the room from one of the Bluetooth speakers scattered around the place. Then a voice, calm, cultured, the same one from the phone, fills the entire space like a goddamn announcer.
"Not yet. I want to see him beg first."
My blood turns to ice. The Collector. He's watching.
Right now. The entire building, maybe the whole block, has to be wired.
And some of these men aren't Razor's anymore.
I can feel it in the way a couple of them glance at the speakers instead of at their boss. Traitors, already bought and paid for.
Razor laughs. "Hear that, D'Amato? Your new friend wants a show."
The Collector's voice returns, smooth and amused. "I want you to beg for her life, Gabe. Like your sister did for her baby." A low chuckle. "Did you know that? Of course you didn't. She traded her life for that little brat. But I'm a man of my word. I delivered him to his father."
The words hit like a blade between the ribs. Catarina. Begging. For her child. I feel the floor tilt under me for half a second before I lock it down. My jaw clenches so hard it creaks. I know I have to play this exactly right, get under his skin, hit him where the mask slips.
"No, you didn't," I retort, forcing my voice to stay cold and flat. "We found him."
The Collector laughs harder, genuinely delighted. "Only because I wanted you to."
I force a laugh of my own, low, dark, the kind that belongs in Vegas, where the show must go on, no matter how much blood is on the stage. "You keep telling yourself that."
My eyes flick to Audra while I talk. She's still fighting.
One of her ankles has finally worked the zip tie loose.
I can see the raw, bleeding skin where she's been grinding it against the chair leg for who knows how long.
Blood drips steadily onto the concrete. Every single drop is a promise I make to myself right then.
I will make them all pay for every drop of her blood.
Razor, his men, the Collector's plants in this room, every single one of them is going to scream before this night is over.
Audra's eyes meet mine through her tears. She's sobbing openly now, chest heaving against the band across it, but there's fire in her gaze too. She mouths the words again. I love you.
I nod once, barely perceptible, willing her to hold on just a little longer. The Collector's voice returns, almost playful. "Beg, Gabriel. On your knees. Like your sister did. Maybe I'll let the girl live."
Hot rage moves through my body. Red colors my vision. I don't kneel. But for her? I'd walk on hot coals straight into hell. I take another step forward, hands open at my sides, eyes never leaving Audra's.
"Whatever you want," I lie, but as my vision turns redder, it's becoming harder to control the rage brewing inside me.
The same rage that consumed me at the warehouse and made me rip men apart.
I can't lose it here, though. Not now. Not with Audra right there.
Tied to a chair. I fight the raging fire inside me, keep talking to ground myself.
"You're going to pay for every drop of blood she's lost."
Razor snorts. "Pathetic."
Audra shakes her head violently, tears streaming. "Gabe—no! Don't!"
I keep moving toward her anyway. Because she is worth every second of this. And when the moment comes, when the Collector finally shows his hand or one of these bastards makes a mistake, I'm going to paint these walls red and carry her out of here myself.
"Enough of this pathetic show," he snarls.
He raises the gun and points it straight at my head. I don't flinch. I don't look at the barrel. I look at her. Audra's eyes are wide, filled with raw terror, love, and desperation. She's still fighting the ties, blood running down her wrists and ankles, tears streaming down her face.
"Gabe—" she chokes out, voice breaking. "No—please?—"
I hold her gaze. Steady. Unbreakable.
"I love you," I tell her, soft and clear, the words meant only for her, even though the whole room can hear them. "Always have. Always will."
Razor laughs. "How fucking sweet."
But instead of pulling the trigger, his hand shifts. The gun, once aimed at me, snaps toward Audra. "Let's see her bleed some more first."
NO!
The word doesn't leave my mouth. It detonates inside my skull. Everything else disappears. The room. The men. The noise. Gone. There is only her. Blood on her skin. Terror in her eyes. The way her body jerks against the restraints like she can fight her way to me.
No one touches her. No one hurts her. Not while I'm still breathing.
I move. Not planned. Not calculated. Pure instinct.
I throw myself forward, lunging for Razor, ready to take him down, to break him, to tear him apart with my bare hands if that's what it takes; he's faster than I want him to be.
The bastard pivots. The gun swings. A flash.
A deafening crack, and pain slams into me.
Hard. Violent. Explosive. It steals the air from my lungs and rips the ground out from under me.
I don't even feel myself fall. Just the impact.
The burn. The sudden, brutal weight of my own body betraying me. Audra screams.
It cuts through everything.
Through the ringing in my ears. Through the haze, trying to drag me under. I hit the floor hard, vision fracturing, blurring at the edges, but I force my head up. Force my eyes open. Find her. Always her.