Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
NICO
TARGET ALEKSANDR
The sun sets, casting golden and yellow hues across the city. The sidewalks gradually clear. People retreat inside. The shop windows grow dark.
Now we move.
Miff taps the tablet. “We found their rotation point.”
He zooms in on a narrow alley behind a bakery.
“Basement entrance here. At least twelve heat signatures below.”
“Aleksandr?” I ask.
“Not confirmed.”
Serenity leans over the screen. “He won’t be in the basement.”
We all look at her.
She points to the building across the street. “Top floor. Best sightline. Men like Aleksandr don’t hide underground when they can watch people bleed from above.”
Miff checks the drone feed. “Two guards on the fire escape. One seated near the window behind blackout curtains.”
I grin. “That’s him.”
Serenity looks at me. “You’re welcome.”
“Don’t get cocky.”
“You like me cocky,” she says.
“I like you alive.”
Angel groans. “Can we focus?”
“Agreed,” Kicks mutters.
My amusement dies.
“Night team moves in five. We’re going into the basement first. Then we’ll go to the top floor in the building across the street. I want Aleksandr breathing.”
My men move like shadows as we approach the back door of the bakery. The air smells like old bread, garbage, and rain trapped in hot concrete.
Miff disables the alley camera. Ritchie handles the basement lock. Angel sticks close to Serenity’s left side. I take point just ahead of her.
The lock releases with a soft click.
The stairs vanish into the blackness below.
I tap my earpiece twice; the team acknowledges our positions.
We move.
The basement reeks of mold, cigarette smoke, and gun oil. Russian voices drift from ahead.
I lift two fingers.
Ritchie takes one side. Rémy takes the other. I move forward with Miff while Serenity stays exactly where I ordered—behind me.
Good girl.
The first guard steps into the hallway. I grab him before he can shout and slam him into the wall. He drops.
The second reaches for his radio.
Serenity moves before Angel can stop her, driving the butt of her Glock into his throat before kicking his knee in. He collapses, choking.
I stare at her.
She glares back. “What?”
“Nothing.”
A proud smile threatens to surface.
Not the time.
Glocks drawn, we move deeper into the basement to kill the rest of Aleksandr’s men. Laughter kicks up deeper in the basement. Are they playing cards?
“Stay alert,” I say.
“There are six more heat signatures,” Miff says through the earpiece.
We reach the open, dimly lit space with caution.
I notice a speaker in the middle of a poker table.
The laughter blares around the room. Four men holding AKs pop out from dark corners of the room.
They squeeze their triggers. We fire back.
Serenity drops onto the floor, squeezing the trigger of her AR-15.
I aim for our enemies’ heads, taking them out one by one. We notice the bullets stop.
My wife stands to her feet. I pull her behind me again. Pain radiates through my body. I don’t mention to anyone on my team that I’d been shot. Again.
“There’s two more,” I say.
“Angel and I got them,” Kicks says.
They take off down a hallway.
I hear gunfire erupt. A few minutes later Kicks and Angel return.
My team doesn’t leave one man alive. I’m sure there are more of his men around the city waiting for Aleksandr’s word to rain down bullets on us.
Miff checks the tablet. “Movement on the top floor.”
I tighten my grip on my Glock. “Good. Let the coward sweat.”
Catch’s voice comes over my earpiece. “Two men just exited the fire escape.”
“Take them if they run.”
I hear two soft pops.
“Done,” he chuckles.
Our boots pound the concrete as we clear the stairwell floor by floor. Every door gets checked. Cleared. We can’t allow any surprises. Or loss of civilian life.
By the time we hit the top floor, the bastard knows we’re here.
Good.
I stand outside the apartment door, listening. I hear fast footsteps, shouting in Russian, and furniture scrapes across hardwood.
He’s panicking.
Fucking beautiful.
Serenity stops behind me, breathing hard but steady. Angel stays close at her left.
I glance over my shoulder. “Last chance to stay out here.”
“Kick the door in, Nico.”
A grin threatens. “You got it, wife.”
Ritchie steps forward and obliterates the lock.
Gunfire explodes instantly.
Gripping Serenity’s vest, I push her behind the wall before firing into the living room.
Glass shatters. A lamp explodes. My men storm in.
A Bratva asshole rises from behind a sofa with an assault rifle. Rémy drops him before he gets a clean shot.
Another pops up near the kitchen. Miff handles him.
“Clear the bedrooms!” I bark.
Serenity leans around the wall and fires.
A man near the bar jerks backward and crashes into a liquor cabinet. Bottles rain everywhere.
I look at her.
She shrugs. “He was armed.”
My wife with a weapon, what a fucking turn-on.
“Nico,” Catch says. “Movement toward roof access.”
Aleksandr.
I take off.
The bastard slams through the stairwell door. I’m right behind him. He moves fast for a coward.
Not fast enough.
We hit the rooftop parking deck. A warm breeze moves over my face.
Aleksandr runs hard for the opposite side, likely hoping for another exit route.
Not happening.
I raise my Glock.
The bullet tears through his thigh.
He goes down hard, roaring, scrambling across the rooftop on blood-slick hands.
I stalk toward him slowly. Terrified men make mistakes.
Aleksandr reaches for the Glock at his waistband.
I stomp on his wrist.
The sound of his bones cracking brings great satisfaction.
He screams through gritted teeth.
“Bad move.”
I kick the weapon across the roof. Grab his black t-shirt and haul his ass upright. Blood pours down his leg. Sweat drenches his face.
“You came after my wife,” I say quietly.
He spits blood near my boots. “She should’ve died years ago.”
Ice floods my veins.
I slam the butt of my Glock against his head repeatedly.
His head snaps sideways. Blood sprays from his mouth.
Serenity steps onto the roof, Glock raised. Murder burns in her eyes.
Aleksandr laughs through blood. “Ah. The princess.”
I yank him up, forcing him onto his knees.
Serenity moves closer. “You and your business partner, Ettore,” Serenity says through gritted teeth. “You two pushed my father out of his territory.” She pushes her Glock into his forehead. “You were okay with Ettore sending men to my family’s house to kill me, my brother, and my mom.”
“You survived.” He shrugs. “Unfortunate.”
Her finger eases toward the trigger.
I catch her wrist. “Wait.”
Her furious eyes cut to mine.
She stares at Aleksandr with anger in her eyes. “He has to pay.”
“He will. But not tonight,” I tell my wife.
“He came for me.”
My free hand grips her hip. “I know, Serenity.”
She sighs, pulling her Glock from his head and shoving it into the waist holster.
Aleksandr laughs weakly. “You think you’ve won?”
I can feel our team in the background assessing the scene.
“No. I think you’re going to tell me where Ettore is.”
That gets a reaction. His eye twitches just a little.
There you are, bastard.
Aleksandr smirks. “Fuck you.”
I drive my fist into his ribs. Hard enough to hear something crack.
He gasps.
Ritchie and Rémy grab him before he topples over.
“Where is he?” I ask calmly.
Aleksandr grins through pain. “Kill me.”
I crouch in front of him. “That’s cute.”
I grip his jaw. Hard.
“Death would be mercy,” I grit out.
“Can’t wait to torture you.” Her expression is pure vengeance.
I smile without humor. “Secure him.”
Ritchie zip ties his wrists behind his back. Rémy secures his ankles.
Aleksandr fights until Miff knees him in the gut.
“Police chatter’s picking up,” Miff says. “Six minutes.”
Perfect.
“Get him downstairs.”
As they drag him toward the stairwell, Aleksandr spits blood and laughs.
“You’ll never touch Ettore.”
I stop walking. Turn slowly.
Oh, that was stupid.
I crouch in front of him again.
“You just confirmed he’s alive, involved, and close enough for you to feel confident.”
His smile slips.
“There it is,” I murmur.
Serenity folds her arms. “Looks like torture starts sooner than expected.”
Aleksandr glares at her. “Bitch.”
She smiles sweetly. “I’ve been called worse.”
I rise.
“Take him.”
As they drag him away, I slide my hand around Serenity’s waist again.
“You okay?”
“No. But I will be after Ettore suffers.”
I study her face. Beautiful. Furious. Mine.
“We’ll finish this war soon.”
She nods. “Together.”
That one word lands heavier than it should.
Aleksandr groans as he’s shoved into the van.
I climb in after him.
Serenity follows.
Now the real fun begins.
The safe house is about fifteen minutes from downtown. My grandfather used it, and so did Dad when they’d gone to war.
No neighbors. No cameras tied to the city grid. Reinforced windows. Bulletproof doors. Basement cells. Plenty of weapons.
The perfect place to lie low.
Aleksandr is zip-tied to a steel chair in the basement, bleeding through a temporary bandage wrapped around his thigh. Miff made sure he wouldn’t bleed out. Not because we care. Because dead men don’t talk.
His busted wrist is already swelling. His face looks like ground beef.
Good.
I stand in the kitchen, pouring whiskey into a heavy tumbler while Serenity stalks past me in black tactical gear, still wired from the rooftop fight.
She looks fucking lethal.
And exhausted.
“Drink water,” I tell her.
She doesn’t stop walking. I hear her smack her lips.
Miff coughs into his fist to hide a laugh.
I glare at him.
He suddenly becomes fascinated with his tablet.
Serenity grabs bottled water from the fridge, anyway.
That’s right. Listen to your husband.
I don’t say it.
Tonight isn’t the night.
The dining room table is covered in maps, burner phones, weapons, ammo, drone feeds, and enough caffeine to kill a horse.
Ritchie leans over the table. Catch sits cleaning his weapon. Angel stands beside Serenity, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Kicks devours a bag of potato chips like dinner isn’t on the way.
Miff taps his tablet. “Aleksandr finally talked.”
I sink into a chair. “Amazing what pain does.”