Chapter 25 - Wyatt
The tide shifts unceremoniously as the assailants disperse, suddenly disappearing altogether. The gunfire stops, but this doesn’t feel like a victory to me.
The flashing lights linger as the firehoses hiss, and smoke still continues skyward, but the flames have slowed.
What’s left is a charred skeleton of steel and whatever else the fire miraculously didn’t touch inside, but for the most part, it’s ruined.
Years of careful work and gradual buildup, all reduced to nothing far too quickly.
I can’t look away from it, even as heat continues to roll off it in waves.
As devastating as it is, it pisses me off more than anything.
I could handle seeing my sister happy with someone meant to be my enemy, effectively pulling my momentum out from under me.
I could take bending the knee to Roman and the others to keep the peace, so long as it meant staying alive and keeping Elena in my life.
But now, the Grimaldis are trying to neuter me.
They’re trying to reduce me to nothing, like some kind of humiliation ritual, all because they can’t stand to watch me succeed.
Because they trusted the wrong man and lost their golden ticket to me.
They think they can intimidate me with car chases and arson, assuming I’ll buckle under the pressure, but they’re achieving the opposite. Now more than ever, I want blood. I want Orlando’s sons to watch their father be put down just like he’s been begging for all along.
As my men move around the space, either clearing out or getting medical treatment, I spend enough time with officials to keep them sated, sprinkling in a few lies here and there.
I pull the disbelieving, devastated owner card well, and before long, I’m standing with Patch by his truck while we take stock of the fact that we’re even still alive.
We’re both sweating and dusted with soot, trying to wipe it away just as engines roar in. One in particular comes in too close and far too aggressively to be with the cops, and without warning, the doors fly open before being fully parked.
My stomach drops.
Lukovs.
There’s nothing calm about the way Roman closes the distance, eyes blazing with a tightly set jaw. He’s on me in seconds, grabbing the front of my jacket and slamming me against the side of the truck hard enough to make my teeth rattle. Nikolai is right behind him, equally as furious.
I blink hard at him, so caught off guard that I have half the mind to reach for my pistol, but he doesn’t even give me the chance.
“Where the fuck is she?”
Ever the loyal friend, Patch steps forward instantly, hand dropping to where his gun is just barely concealed. “Roman—”
“Back off,” Roman snaps without looking away from me. It’s a wonder his stare alone hasn’t taken me out already. “This is between you and me…and you’re going to answer me before I forget about our truce.”
Not appreciating this kind of treatment, especially after being so raw from the fire, I shove his hands off me and try to stand to my full height again. More adrenaline courses through me, hot and alive again.
“What’s this all about?”
His sneer sharpens. “I’m not here to fuck around. Don’t act like you don’t already know.”
“I don’t,” I bite back, only willing to be pushed for so long. “So tell me.”
Roman’s gaze flickers just long enough to question me, then he gestures to the others, and Ivan steps forward with a tablet already in hand.
“This is traffic cam footage a few blocks from your place, about an hour ago,” he says, voice void of anything but tension.
The screen is shoved in front of me, so I take it, and everything around me ceases to exist.
I recognize the street instantly. It’s one I take often, and the very one that leads straight to Elena’s workout classes. It’s too quiet at first, then a van pulls up, slowing things down. When that familiar car rolls closer, eventually stopping, it’s boxed in. Men swarm it.
Then I see Elena. She fights like she’s possessed, swinging and struggling enough to give them problems.
My heart squeezes to the point of physically hurting at the sight of them hauling her out, dragging her to a waiting vehicle nearby.
Even through the grainy footage, I can see how terrified she is. How she did everything in her power to deter them before being rendered unconscious.
And as everything truly sinks in, I lose it.
Shaking my head as I struggle to come to terms with it, every instinct in me screaming to act now, I nearly drop the tablet before Ivan catches it.
“No…there’s no way…”
Roman grabs my arm, harder this time. He doesn’t do it to stabilize me.
“You promised,” he says, voice growing in volume as the words come out. “You stood in front of us all and said she’d be safe with you. You lied to my fucking face, Michaels.”
“I didn’t know,” I snarl, shoving him back before I can stop myself, not even remotely feeling like myself. “I was here, defending my goddamn turf, unless you haven’t noticed the scorched building behind us.”
Roman’s jaw tightens. “You would’ve known if you hadn’t left her.”
He’s right.
The staggering realization hits harder than he ever could, nearly knocking the breath right from my lungs.
With everything slowed to this very moment, I see her peacefully slumbering face in my mind. Alone. Completely unaware of what I’ve been dealing with. I see every choice stacking up to this catastrophic failure.
I barely catch as Patch curses under his breath. “This was the distraction.”
Snapping my attention toward him, I notice the dread that accompanies the revelation in his eyes.
“They hit the warehouse to get you out of the way. They planned this to get to Elena,” he adds grimly.
That, paired with the way they lingered, drawing us away from the building like some sort of bait, puts it all into perspective. It’s the only sound reasoning.
As easy as it would be to lose myself in thought over it, I don’t let myself. Not while thinking will kill me before it does any good.
“They could take her anywhere,” I murmur, hating the dark, oppressive feeling in my chest at the limitless possibilities. Then I look between Roman and Ivan. “Where? Tell me you’ve tracked them.”
While Roman’s rage doesn’t dissipate, it sharpens into more focus than blind fury. “From what we could glean, they didn’t take her far. They swapped vehicles, but our guys have been following them closely. They’re at a hotel on the strip. It’s one of the Grimaldis own outright.”
My heart nearly stops with both relief and barely-contained wrath. My fingers twitch down at my side. “Then why are we still here? Why aren’t you already storming the place?”
“Easy…” Roman warns, putting a hand up to stop me from moving as his eyes narrow.
“One, my men are busy scouting the place and doing some recon work. We need to know how many civilians are inside, where they are, and how many Grimaldis we’re dealing with.
The more we know, the better equipped we are to take them out swiftly.
And two, I had to know if I needed to put a bullet in you first.”
“Do it later then, if you must,” I utter, stepping into his space, not giving any attention to the guns that could turn on me in a moment’s notice. “But not until we get Elena back.”
Silence hangs between us for a long, infuriating moment, then resolve settles over Roman. “Then we have a kingpin to kill. Get to work.”
Without another word, we take action.
Everyone piles into vehicles, peeling away from what remains of the warehouse before anyone can be asked any questions. Patch is already making calls, mobilizing every man we have left, while I sit in the back seat with him. Nikolai drives, and Roman is giving his own orders in the passenger seat.
My knuckles clench so tightly against the interior that they burn, and I hardly notice anything else around us.
I should feel afraid for Elena and everything on the line right now, but I don’t. There’s only rage condensed into cold, absolute focus.
Without any prompting, I see her face in my mind. I hear her laugh at the club and feel the way she curled into me this morning before I left. She looked so at ease. So trusting.
The memory sours at the thought of them taking her. Taking what’s mine.
Just as he ends the call, Roman glances back at me, returning that tension tenfold. But rather than pure hatred for me, there’s a sort of alignment in it too, even if it’s fragile.
“You find her alive, and this truce holds,” he says, quiet yet still full of intent.
Meeting his gaze, I let him know I’m serious about everything I have. “I’ll get her out even if it kills me.”
“Don’t let it kill either of you, or else I’ll kill you again,” Roman utters. “Right after the damn Grimaldis.”
Even if impossible, I know he means it.
Nikolai drives with controlled urgency, pushing us through the city as efficiently as he can without drawing too much attention.
Eventually, the hotel looms just up ahead on the strip, but as ready as I am to storm the place right now, we have to wait.
We have to prepare, regardless of how agonizing that might be.
Either way, the Grimaldis thought they could take what matters most to me, and they’re about to learn just how badly they fucked up.