Chapter 30 Kingston
KINGSTON
The warehouse district where I tracked Livvie’s location is a fucking wasteland. Rusted-out shells of buildings that look like graveyards for the dead industry.
It’s a perfect place to make someone disappear.
And a perfect place for Roman to make his last mistake.
The red flashing dot on my phone hasn't moved in twenty minutes. That either means Livvie's unconscious or they have her tied down tight enough that she can’t move.
Both options make me want to put bullets into skulls until none of those fuckers are left breathing.
Reign kills the engine three blocks out. Bronx's SUV slides in behind us. We creep between two gutted factories, staying in the shadows.
"That one." I stop short and point to the dilapidated brick warehouse at the end of the block. The windows are either boarded up or shattered and jagged. "The tracker's pinging from inside."
Bronx adjusts his scope, scanning the perimeter. "Two assholes outside. Smoking, talking. Not paying attention."
"Good. That means they're not expecting company."
"How many are inside? Do we know?" Reign asks, checking the magazine of his gun.
"I don't give a shit. However many there are, it's too many." I shoulder my AR-15, the weight comforting because I know exactly what it’s gonna do for me and Livvie. "Roman dies slow. Everyone else goes fast."
We crouch low to the ground and in unison, as if we’ve done this a thousand times before, we stealthily move across the cracked asphalt. And we have. Different warehouse, different target, same play. The only thing that's changed is what's at stake.
My wife. The woman I walked away from like a fucking asshole.
The guards outside are worthless. One's scrolling through his phone, chuckling at some video. The other's leaning against a concrete pillar, cigarette hanging from his mouth like he's posing for a magazine shoot.
Using a silencer, Bronx plugs a round through the first guy's skull. His phone clatters to the ground, the sound of whatever bullshit video he was watching on loop. The second guard jumps away from the wall and turns just in time to catch Reign's knife across his throat.
He drops to the ground, gurgling, trying to hold his throat together with his hands.
I fire a glare at him as his eyes go glassy and vacant.
If the rest of Roman’s crew is as oblivious, this rescue should be quick.
We drag the bodies around a nearby dumpster, the stench of rotting garbage making bile shoot up the back of my throat. I pull a pair of bolt cutters from my duffel bag when we approach the padlocked door. The metal is rusty and cuts easily.
The heavy metal door screams when it opens. Rust and age. We freeze. I hold up my hands, silently telling my brothers to stay behind me.
But nothing happens. Nobody comes running. No shots are fired.
I inch forward, my finger on the trigger of my AR. I scan the massive space, walking around the old, broken-down machinery, the dank smell making my throat tighten. Everything's covered in rust and dust, the air heavy with foreboding.
But underneath the decay, I catch something else. Something that makes my chest ache.
Livvie's perfume. There’s a faint hint of it in the air.
Voices carry from deeper in the warehouse, my ears pricking to hear them more clearly. Roman's voice reverberates between the concrete walls, calm and controlled. And Livvie’s follows, thank fuck.
My fierce, stubborn wife who won't break even when she should.
I let out an unsteady breath. She's here. And she's alive.
We stalk deeper into the warehouse, anticipating each and every move his crew could make. Six more guys jump out of the shadows. They fight like they’re better trained than the idiots outside.
But it won’t be enough.
It doesn’t take long to eliminate the obstacles. The firefight is quick and brutal. I plug two guys in seconds flat. The others scatter, bullets cracking the air. We dive behind some metal boxes. Bronx leans around our cover and drops two more guys.
While I blast another one with a spray of bullets, Reign puts the last guy down with a headshot that explodes like a goddamn watermelon.
Eerie silence falls over the place, my ears still ringing, pulse hammering against my throat.
Then a sharp piercing scream shatters the air.
I don’t think. I don’t breathe. I just run. Everything crumbles.
Our plans dissipate like a fart in the wind. The only thing I can think about right now is saving my wife from that crazy bastard. My shoes pound against the floor, my lungs constricting as all the air is sucked from them. I dart down a long corridor, the sounds getting clearer and closer.
She screams again. And then I realize… it’s not out of fear. It’s rage. Pure, unadulterated fury.
That's my girl.
I round a corner, driving forward, and everything inside me morphs into ice when I skid to a stop in the doorway.
Livvie is sitting in a steel chair in the middle of an empty space, her wrists secured and sitting on her lap. Her face is bruised, lip split, hair hanging around her swollen face. Heavy, ragged breaths puncture the air.
But her eyes… they blaze with hatred and ire.
Roman stands over her with a knife pressed to her throat, the steel tip digging into her skin enough where a tiny drizzle of red stains her flesh. He looks like shit. Thin, wild-eyed, desperate. Like a man who's been surviving on revenge alone.
"Kingston!" Livvie shouts when she sees me. "Behind you!"
I whip around just in time to face off with another one of Roman's guys lunging at me with his rifle raised. I put three rounds in his chest before he can squeeze off a single shot. He spins and crashes into a stack of oil drums, metal clanging, rattling my eardrums.
More gunfire erupts back where I just ran from. Fuck, I hope it’s my brothers making those shots and not taking them.
"Well, well," Roman says, voice steady despite the distant chaos. "The devoted husband comes back to collect his property. I’ve been waiting for you, Kingston. What took you so long?"
"Let her go." I ignore him and keep my rifle aimed at his head. But he's hauled Livvie to her feet and is using her body as a shield. One twitch of his hand and she’s dead. "This is between us."
"Is it?" He presses the blade deeper. More blood drizzles out of the wound. Livvie's jaw clenches but she doesn't make a sound. "Because your wife's family owes me a debt. And I’m gonna collect."
"What debt?"
"My brother, Sean." Roman's eyes narrow, fury swirling in the depths of his fiery glare. “Your father-in-law had him tortured and killed three years ago."
"They broke his legs with hammers before they put bullets in his knees,” Roman bites out. "Let him roll around in his own blood for an hour before he died alone.”
The madness in his eyes is damn evident now. This isn't business. This is grief twisted into something monstrous, something Livvie had nothing to do with.
"So you blame her?"
"She's an O'Callaghan. She benefits from their violence. That makes her complicit." The knife shakes against Livvie's skin. "An eye for an eye."
Bronx and Reign appear, stopping next to me. Roman grimaces, pressing the knife in deeper. "Tell your boys to back off or I'll slice her goddamn carotid artery so fast your head will spin."
Bronx freezes, the gun in his outstretched hand.
"What do you want, Roman?" I say.
"What do I want?" He laughs. It’s a harsh and bitter sound that grates against my ears. "I want my brother back. I want Cormac to suffer the way I've suffered. But since I can't have that…"
He looks down at Livvie, the disdain in his expression mixing with rejection.
"You know what's funny? I thought I’d be able to win her back. I thought if I saved her from the life her asshole father condemned her to, she'd see I was the one who could protect her."
Roman shifts the knife slightly and Livvie stiffens, her eyes wide.
"I had it all planned. That USB drive I gave her… it contains the real Blood Vault files. I was going to use it to destroy the Tribunal and her father, rescuing her from everything that was hurting her."
The USB drive. The one Bronx has been trying to crack.
"But then she fucking fell for you. She chose you over me." Roman's voice takes on a vicious edge. "So now she dies. And you get to watch."
He grips the knife tight, starting to drag it across her throat. Livvie shrieks. But I don’t hesitate. I fire.
Livvie moves at the same time the bullet whizzes through the air, like she anticipated my move. She lunges sideways, jerking her body out of the path of the bullet.
The chair next to them topples to the floor. Roman's blade clatters at her feet as he crashes backward against the wall, and she grabs it.
He staggers, his shoulder blown open, but stays upright. Then he pulls a gun from his waistband with his good arm.
"Kingston!" Livvie screams.
Time slows, like I’m trudging through wet, sticky tar to get closer. Roman's finger presses the trigger. More shots fire. I shoot again but he dodges and drops.
Then Livvie scurries across the floor, the steel blade in her hand raising high before she drives it into his chest.
“You fucking bitch,” he snarls, reaching for her hair. But before he can grab her, I squeeze off two bullets, one to the chest, one hitting the side of his throat.
He staggers backward, eyes wide, gurgling blood. The gun falls from his hand, crashing against the floor.
"That's for my family," she growls through clenched teeth. Blood bubbles on Roman's lips as he writhes against the floor, the life slowly and excruciatingly seeping out of him. "And for putting your fucking hands on me."
"Y-you were m-mine," he chokes out.
"I was never yours," Livvie says, voice deadly calm. "I choose him."
Ragged breaths follow. Blood pools beneath him, staining the concrete.
I run over to Livvie and pull her into my arms, shaking, tears streaming down her face.
"I'm sorry," she whispers against my chest, her bloodied hands shaking. "I should have told you about the Tribunal’s order. I should have trusted you. We could have figured it out together."
"You're safe now." I hold her tight, feeling her heartbeat against mine. Guilt gnaws at me. I made the same fucking mistake. I could have told her about my order to kill Cormac. We could have figured things out, come up with a way to neutralize the threat against us. "That's all that matters."
I hug her tight. She’s cut, bruised, and bloody. But she's alive. And she's mine.
"The USB drive," I say. "Roman had everything he needed to take down the Red Tribunal."
"I’d never heard of any Blood Vault. Then after he kidnapped me, he told me everything. I guess he didn’t think I was a threat to him at that point.”
She slants his body a dirty look.
“Fucking idiot. He was going to use the information to take down everyone," Livvie says. "And he decided to use me as bait."
Bronx approaches. "Guys, can you table this whole reunion? We need to get the fuck out of here. The cops will be here soon."
I help Livvie stand. She's steady on her feet despite everything. Tough as nails. God, she’s fucking incredible and I’m never gonna let her forget it.
"Princess. Let’s get these cuffs off and go home," I tell her, holding her tight against me.
“Home,” she whispers softly, her eyes filled with tears and regret.
My shoulders square as we hurry out of the warehouse. Rage infuses every cell in my body.
I'm going to show the Red Tribunal what happens when someone threatens what's mine.
They want blood?
They're about to fucking drown in it.