Chapter 20 #2
Enzo reached for her again, but instinct—and Alec’s training—took over.
She twisted, driving her elbow into his gut.
He folded with a harsh wheeze, and she pivoted, her knee crashing into his face.
His head snapped back, and for one fierce, thrilling beat, she savored the shock on his face before he crumpled with a grunt.
One of his goons lunged for her. She ducked, but he caught her hair—always a weapon used against her—and yanked. Her scalp burned, and her eyes watered, but she didn’t let that stop her from raking her nails across his arms and jabbing her thumbs in his eyes.
A crackle sounded. Then pain exploded through her body. She hit the floor, convulsing, her limbs refusing to obey.
The room blurred.
Enzo stood over her, breathing hard. “Little bitch has claws.”
“I’m out of here. This is too hot,” the buyer in the cowboy hat thundered, storming for the door. Someone knocked over a table—glass shattered, champagne dripped onto the floor—as the other buyers scrambled to follow him out.
“Goddammit! Look what you’ve done,” Enzo exploded, driving his pointed shoe into her ribs. “You cost me millions, interfering slut.”
She was still twitching from the shock as fire shot through her chest. Now, every breath was a struggle. Emily saw him bend toward her and knew more pain was coming.
“We don’t have time for this shit,” a new voice exclaimed angrily. “We need to go.”
Despite the fog in her head, she recognized it. Benny.
“If she was wired, the cops are on the way,” he said. “Move her and the rest of the merchandise to the Miramar warehouse. We’ll hold the auction online.”
“Fine,” Enzo snapped, wiping his hand on her blouse. But he leaned down and hissed at her, “This isn’t over between us. You’ll regret you’re still breathing as you beg for my mercy.” To his men, he barked, “Bring the bitch. Whoever sent her in will want her returned alive. She’s leverage now.”
Emily’s heart stuttered. Barely conscious, she clung to one hope—that Alec or someone was listening, hearing every word.
“She’ll need the juice,” someone said. “Same dose we give the rebellious ones.”
“Not too much,” Enzo grunted. “If I cracked her rib, I want her to experience the pain of betraying a Denali.”
“What about the cop?”
“Kill him,” Enzo ordered coldly.
Twin gunshots exploded through the small room. Emily would have screamed, but her body had forgotten how.
Rough hands grabbed her, holding her still. A needle pricked her thigh. It was nothing compared to the white-hot agony that followed when someone hauled her up and slung her over a shoulder.
She clung to one thought—her knight would come—before the world went dark.
***
Alec tracked the guard’s slow circuit along the west wall, counting steps, memorizing the gaps between passes. The estate looked calm from the outside—music drifting across the grounds, lights soft and golden—but he knew better. Every round those men made tightened the knot in his gut.
Dev’s voice cut into his earpiece, sharp and urgent. “The mission is compromised. They’ve made Jace.”
For one brutal heartbeat, Alec couldn’t breathe. It was what he had feared. What haunted his sleep.
When the order came, “All teams. Move in. Now,” he was already running.
He broke from cover at a sprint, weapon up, vaulting the low stone wall as gunfire cracked from the far side of the house. Marble sparked under impact ahead.
He could hear the chatter over his comm as a half dozen Devlin men and a tactical team from the Miami FBI field office swarmed the grounds. Short-staffed as always, they’d contracted with Dev’s crew to assist making their presence official
Alec couldn’t care less about protocol. The party was over. And Emily was still inside.
As he ran the length of the side portico, gunfire erupted from overhead. Alec dove behind a stone column and returned fire. Rhys slid in beside him.
“Snipers on the roof,” he warned, slamming in a fresh magazine.
They rose together and fired. One silhouette tumbled over the side and dropped three floors. Then the second.
Alec didn’t blink. “Let’s move,” he growled.
They advanced in bursts—fire, cover, fire again—picking off guards who seemed to multiply. But Alec pushed forward. Every second they lost was another second Emily was in danger.
“How many men are in there?” Rhys growled. “I’ve seen fewer in a bloody clown car.”
Smoke poured from shattered windows. Alec’s lungs burned, heart pounding like a war drum as they pressed forward. When they reached the side door, Leland shouted directions from behind, “Left then left again—private room at the end.”
They ran double time down the hall, Alec ready to burst through the door to get to Em. His pulse thundered in his ears, echoing her cries and the gunshots in his head.
Dev called out, “Alec, hold up!”
He checked himself long enough to signal to Rhys who went high while he went low as Dev kicked in the door. They jumped back, bracing for return fire, but were met with silence.
“Emily!” Alec shouted, as they swept the room, guns raised.
“We’re clear,” Rhys called.
Dev crouched beside Jace, fingers to his neck. “He’s got a pulse.”
“Thank fuck for body armor,” Leland said, dropping to his knees on the other side as he ripped off his shirt to staunch the shoulder wound seeping blood.
“You’re sure this is where Emily pinged?” Alec asked, vibrating with frustration.
Dev grabbed Leland’s GPS device, checking the locator. “It says she’s here.”
They searched—under tables, behind chairs. Nothing.
Something skittered across the floor when Alec took a step.
Rhys crouched to retrieve it. “No,” he said grimly. “It says her signal’s here.”
He held up a small black disc—Em’s short-range transmitter that only hours before he’d clipped to her bra.
Alec’s rage surged. He kicked a chair into the wall, splintering it.
Then he saw them—her shoes. One overturned. The other spattered with dark spots as was the floor beneath it.
He bent and touched the marble. His fingers came away red.
“She’s injured,” he ground out, the word tasting foul.
He strode quickly toward the door.
Leland called. “I’ll stick with Jace but send a medic.”
When they entered the ballroom, they found organized chaos.
Federal agents everywhere. Buyers cuffed and corralled near the grand staircase. Two of their men, Ren and Mason, flanked the perimeter, weapons holstered but eyes sharp. One man tried to run and was tackled. Another wept openly, his designer suit soaked with sweat.
Taking the lead, Alec pushed through the crowd, barely registering the agents or the shouting. He needed to move. To act. To find her.
She’d said she was coming back. As long as he was breathing, he would make sure she kept that promise.
“Nick Devlin!” a woman called.
The four of them halted. Regina stood off to the side, wrists bound in zip ties, her silver gown stained and rumpled. She surged forward, but an officer caught an arm, his hold locking her in place.
Alec veered her way, demanding, “Where have they taken her?”
“Taken who?”
“You know damn well who,” he barked. “Emily. You’re part of this.”
Dev moved fast, intercepting him before he could reach, and, likely, strangle her. “We don’t have time for your bullshit, Regina,” he said, his rage and panic barely controlled.
“I had nothing to do with this. I swear.” Her voice cracked, her eyes darting from Dev to Mateo to Rhys, in search of an ally.
She found none. “It was Benny, one of my chefs. I’ve suspected something was off about him for months.
I should’ve let him go or called you in after the first girl disappeared. I regret that I didn’t.”
Dev’s expression was unforgiving. “You procured barely legal girls and brought them here—for purchase.”
“No! I catered a private party. That’s it. I might be guilty of ignorance and an incredible lack of observation skills,” she insisted, “but I’m not a trafficker. I’d never.”
Alec glared at her, not believing a word. He was done and wanted to hear only one thing. “Where would they have taken her. Tell me now, or I swear I’ll—” As he pushed forward, his rage boiling over, Dev held him back.
“I don’t know,” she repeated, eyes wide and wet. “Please. You have to believe me.”
Leland jogged over, breathless. “EMS has Jace. He lost a lot of blood, but he’s conscious. He should be okay.”
“That’s the only good news I’ve had today,” Dev said as he exhaled, talking more to himself than anyone else.
“What about Emily?” Leland asked. “If she’s wearing the earrings, we should have a signal.”
“Fuck me,” Alec cursed. The other two transmitters were lost, but she had a third.
He’d forgotten. Some white knight he was.
She’d called him that—her knight—just hours ago, voice soft, eyes steady.
He hadn’t deserved it then. He sure as hell didn’t now.
But he’d earn it by finding her and bringing her home safe.
He snatched the GPS Mateo was holding and switched the frequency. In just a few seconds, it pinged.
“They’re heading southeast toward the coast,” he said, voice tight. “We need to go. Now.”
He didn’t wait for orders. His long strides carried him out of the smoke-choked mansion. Without looking, he knew the team followed, boots crunching over glass and debris. The air outside was thick with salt and gunpowder. Sirens wailed in the distance.
A prayer formed on his lips—not polished or holy but raw and desperate.
Let me find her before they sell her. Before they ship her off. Before it’s too late.