Chapter 27 - Wyatt
The door to the rooftop slams against the wall hard enough to rattle the frame, and as I push through, the wind hits me, bitter and carrying the smell of fuel and metal.
The city sprawls below with glittering lights, but up here, it’s more like being in a different world entirely, blinded by the floodlights that take a moment to adjust to.
But the second I do, I see the helicopter with its rippling blades, waiting to leave.
Right now, it’s a constant threat and a reminder of everything I stand to lose.
Luckily, the upper floors of the hotel have been closed off for renovations, so after clearing guests from the lower floors, getting through the building was quick work. Certainly faster with the Lukov forces to bolster my own.
But with the adrenaline still pumping through me after taking out a decent number of Grimaldi men, everything comes to a screeching halt the moment I see her.
Elena’s in Orlando’s grasp, halfway to the helicopter pad, as if caught in the act. Her wrists are bound behind her back, and her skin looks paler than usual, likely from whatever sedative they gave her.
Quickly, Orlando turns and points his gun at her head, gaze sharp and wild, as if anything might set him off. Still, he keeps his arm steady.
Flanking him on either side, his sons are both armed, taking us all in at once. Of course, every other man is ready, tracking us with their weapons without hesitation.
Instinctively, everything in me goes cold and focused. They haven’t left yet, which means we have them right where we want them.
Patch and Roman’s men fan out beside me, silent and disciplined. My own crew mirrors them on the opposite side, still pushing on despite the action earlier today.
The Grimaldis are boxed in with nowhere to go. No exits. Not even the helicopter can help them now.
But aside from Elena’s release, I don’t give a damn about anything else.
Despite the obvious pressure on him, Orlando smiles, clearly feeling he has the advantage here. In a way, he does. But he’s outnumbered, and he has no idea just how far my determination will take me.
“Wyatt,” he says just loud enough to be heard over the wind. “Or whatever you’re going by these days.”
My jaw clenches tight, not interested in having any kind of conversation, regardless of how satisfied he seems about the confrontation.
“This ends tonight. Here and now,” I tell him, deliberate and slow so it all sinks in. “Let her go.”
Carlo adjusts his hold on the pistol. “You’re in no position to make demands.”
I take a step forward, feeling as Roman’s hand snaps out to grab me, just barely catching my sleeve, but I don’t look at him. Instead, my eyes never leave Elena.
She’s looking at me, too, but there’s no broken panic in her eyes. Just the sort of exhaustion that comes with holding on for as long as you can. I just wish I could reassure her somehow.
“That’s funny,” Orlando returns with a small tilt of his head, slightly bumping the pistol against Elena’s head in a way that makes my body clench. “From where I’m standing, I have all the leverage.”
“Do you?”
“Seeing as you bothered coming all the way here for her, then yes. I’d say I do.” He glances at the others, gaze shifting. “And you think bringing the Lukovs here scares me?”
“It should,” Roman cuts in, both calm and lethal. If someone didn’t know him, they might assume he’s indifferent right now, but I’ve seen how he is around Elena. He’s ready to cut Orlando to pieces if that’s what it takes.
Then, in an attempt to seem unaffected, Orlando scoffs. But the subtle grip change gives him away, letting just enough uncertainty creep in.
“For someone who operated in the dark for so long, you’re more emotional than I would’ve guessed. Too attached.”
As his gaze flicks down to Elena, renewed rage surges through me, but I force myself to sit in it, rather than acting without thinking. I have to bury it for now, even if I’d love to join Roman in slicing already.
“And what makes you so sure of that?”
He chuckles. “The very fact that you came out of hiding for her. You were perfectly content staying out of sight. You made a name for yourself that way…and now, you’ve lost your trump card. We know your name and your face, and we have your weakness.”
“I don’t need to hide my face anymore,” I mutter back, keeping my posture as poised yet relaxed as I can. “Besides, after tonight, you won’t be a problem anymore.”
At that, his eyes narrow, surely wondering how I can be so sure.
“You’re right about one thing,” I call out to him, subtly clicking my safety off as I keep the short barrel trained on him. “I am attached.”
“Then you’ve already lost.”
“No…you did.”
Glancing over, I catch as Roman makes a subtle movement with his chin. It’s barely noticeable, but it’s enough. One of his men mirrors it, and as I meet Orlando’s gaze again, everything falls into place.
I meet Elena’s gaze. “Get down.”
Confusion flashes across all their faces, and at once, the lights cut out.
With a low drone of power draining, the rooftop plunges into complete darkness, and only the helicopter’s blades punctuate the silence. Then, I pull the trigger.
His men erupt instantly as the shot rings out, cursing and shouting orders.
Immediately, there’s a shuffle of action through the dark, and my eyes adjust just enough to make out some of their figures moving. But it all happens so quickly, it’s hard to keep track of everyone on the rooftop.
All the while, all I can think about is Elena. If she got down and managed to stay clear of it. My heart races, blood pounding in my ears.
When I catch Roman’s command barked out in Russian, I’m already lurching forward, crouched low as I try to find her in the darkness.
A second goes by, then another, and without warning, bright light slams through the space again, freezing the entire rooftop mid-motion.
It’s harsh at first, and many of us raise a hand to shield our eyes from it. But before long, I adjust again, and I see it.
Orlando’s on the ground, sprawled on his side with the pistol several feet away.
A fresh pool of blood spreads dark and fast across the concrete, staining his shirt.
His face is slack with shock as his mouth opens and closes, as if he can’t quite process what’s happening.
Then the light fades from his eyes entirely.
And his sons…
They’re gone.
I hear the muttered confusion from the guys behind me, pinning the remaining Grimaldi men and searching for the twins. The helicopter has already lifted, pulling away as quickly as possible. Cowards.
But I don’t care about anything else.
I’m moving, hurling myself towards her.
“Elena,” I breathe, reaching her and sinking to my knees.
She blinks back at me, on her side with her arms still bound behind her in an awkward position. Her chest heaves, forced to come to terms with the shock all at once. But she’s alive.
As carefully as I can, I help her sit up, adjusting her before pulling out my pocket knife. The blade slides through the zip tie with relative ease, freeing her wrists.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur, not realizing how many times I repeat it as I reach for her, hands gripping her shoulders.
She looks at me, still pale and dazed. Her eyes are wide and gleaming under the bright lights, looking at me in quiet disbelief. “Wyatt…”
Then, she reaches up, gripping my jacket first before pulling me closer.
Without hesitation, I wrap my arms around her, holding her as tight as I can. It’s by no means gentle, but neither of us protests.
Elena’s face presses into my neck, breathing hard and fast.
I feel it too—how close all of this came to ending wrong. How easily this could’ve gone differently.
But as easy as it might be to fall into those thought patterns, I remind myself that it didn’t. It turned out this way because we willed it to. Because I sure as hell wasn’t going to let anyone take her away.
“Where did they go?” Someone asks, surely referring to Carlo and Cesare.
“No idea. They aren’t up here.”
“We blocked the exit. There’s no way they got in the helicopter that quickly,” Mikhail adds.
“They could’ve. Or they found somewhere else.”
“It doesn’t matter. Check everywhere,” Roman says over the confusion. “Check the ledges, look for vents or any passageways we might not know about. Find them.”
Some of his men scramble to do exactly that, thanks to those growled words, while the others round up the Grimaldi men lingering around.
But even as everything unfolds around us, I don’t look at them or Orlando. I already know he’s dead, and even if any breath lingered in him still, I wouldn’t care.
All that exists now is Elena, safe and warm in my arms despite the odds.
“You came,” she whispers, not hiding the dampness on her cheeks from me.
“I told you,” I say, voice rough as I press my cheek to her head. “I won’t let anyone take you from me.”
She lets go of a shuddered breath at that, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of us.
Here, there’s no violence or strategy. Just this fragile yet overwhelming thing between us.
For all my previous rage and worry before, it all melts away at the feeling of her pressed against me, completely wrapped up in my grasp.
I don’t know what it makes me able to move on so quickly from the chaos, but if I know one thing for certain, it’s that I always keep my word.
No matter who tries, I will burn it all down before I let anyone do this to Elena again.
To the woman I found tied up in Vito’s warehouse. The one who cooperated with me and managed to find something in me worth safeguarding. The one I fell so completely for without meaning to.
My wife.