Chapter 47
The SUV pulled into the Azzaro compound, tires crunching on gravel as we passed through the imposing iron gates.
We came to a stop, and I heard bellowing but couldn’t make out the words.
The door swung open and two men yanked me from the back seat, my legs buckling beneath me as they dragged me up the stiars and into the main house.
The grand Mediterranean mansion loomed against the darkening sky, windows glowing with warm light that belied the darkness within.
Someone new stalked down the marble stairs, and the two dunderheads lifted me to my feet, but I kept my head down. The longer they thought I might be Rhea, the better. The suit came over, gripped my chin, and lifted my head.
“Bah,” he said, tossing my chin to the side and turning to the two that held me. “You fucking idiots. This is Gavriel’s bitch, not Rhea Azzaro.”
“She was driving her car, wearing her coat.”
A chuckle came from me as I sassed, “Gods forbid I drive her car or wear her clothes.”
The suit backhanded me, quick and efficient. The sting of it barely registered as I looked up and saw Gavriel standing at the top of the stairs. A slow smile spread across my lips.
His face was a perfect mask of cold indifference, but I caught the flash of relief in his eyes when he saw me.
The dunderheads pulled me up the stairs and into the foyer as Gavriel glared at each of them.
"What the hell is this?" he demanded, striding toward us. "You were supposed to find my sister."
I slowly lifted my head and met Gavriel's eyes, which narrowed as he looked at me. "Have you done something to Rhea? Where is she? What have you done with her?"
Playing along, I lifted my chin defiantly. "I’m keeping her safe. Something you weren’t able to do, Mr. Azzaro."
His hand shot out, gripping my throat with enough pressure to look convincing without actually hurting me. "You think this is a game? I don’t care if you’ve been warming my bed. Do you have any idea what you've done?"
"Talon, release her for now," came a commanding voice from the top of the grand staircase. Don Ezequiel Azzaro descended slowly, his expensive suit impeccable, his silver hair slicked back. "Miss Perkins. What an unexpected pleasure."
Gavriel released me with a shove that sent me stumbling backward. "Father, your soldiers are fucking idiots."
"I can see that," Ezequiel said, his voice dangerously soft.
He lifted his arm, gun in hand. Two deafening shots later, I saw the two men who had taken me falling to the floor.
Ezequiel sighed heavily, holstered his gun, and turned his full dark attention on me.
"The question is, why was she driving Rhea's car and wearing her clothes? "
Before I could answer, another figure appeared from a side hallway. His booming voice demanded, “Where is my bride?”
Miguel Juarez. All five foot seven of him, with weathered olive skin and dark eyes, sauntered through the space. This is the asshole Ezequiel is marrying his daughter to? He stepped into the room in his tailored suit as his cold eyes assessed me like a piece of merchandise.
I involuntarily twitched, a flash of fear coursing through me. Pulling on my dominate side, I straightened my spine, lifted my chin, and glared at him. "Gone. Far away from you."
Juarez's hand struck as fast as a viper, slapping me hard enough to snap my head to the side. The taste of copper flooded my mouth.
"Enough," Ezequiel said sharply. "Take her to my study. We'll get answers there."
Gavriel stepped forward. "I'll handle this."
His father regarded him with suspicion. "Will you? Your loyalty has seemed . . . questionable lately."
"As you have made abundantly clear, she’s become a liability,” Gavriel replied coolly. "I know how to make the bitch scream until she begs to tell me anything I want to know."
A tense moment passed between father and son, years of mistrust and manipulation hanging in the air between them.
"Fine," Ezequiel finally said. "But I want results, not excuses."
Gavriel gripped my arm roughly, marching me down the hallway. Once we were out of earshot, his hold gentled slightly.
"Are you okay?" he whispered, barely moving his lips.
"As well as I can be," I murmured back. "Your guys?"
"In position. Some of Juarez’s men too. Harley's coordinating from the security room."
We reached a heavy wooden door at the end of the corridor. Gavriel pushed it open, shoving me inside before following and slamming the door behind us. I’d hardly had a chance to look around the office before he was in motion. He kissed me quickly then pulled away.
"You stupid bitch," he snarled, loud enough for anyone listening to hear. "What were you thinking?"
I matched his volume. "Fuck you, Gavriel! You know what your father and that monster were planning for her! How could you allow that fate for your own sister?"
He crossed the room in two strides, his hand connecting with the wall beside my head hard enough to make me flinch. His body caged mine against the wall, his face inches from mine.
"Are you wearing it? Just in case things go south?" he whispered, his breath warm against my ear.
I nodded minutely. The tracker was sewn into the lining of my bra, transmitting our location to Harley and his team.
Gavriel kissed my neck softly before he stepped back, raising his voice again. "Start talking, Elin. Where is she? Where is my fucking sister?"
He snipped through the plastic zip tie; it fell away, and a rush of warmth flooded back into my fingertips.
Pins and needles followed in a slow bloom, prickling beneath the skin as I flexed my hands, testing the ache at my wrists where the tie had bitten in.
The air felt cooler suddenly, as if the whole room sighed, and I curled my fingers, feeling the throb of returning blood.
I gave him a nod that I was okay and gestured for him to move out of the way before I grabbed the nearest chair and hurled it against the wall with a satisfying crash.
Gavriel unsheathed his blade, drawing it across his palm without flinching.
His warm blood smeared my cheekbone as he cupped my face.
I extended my wrist toward him. "The back of my hand," I said.
His eyes darkened with reluctance. "Don't look at me like that," I whispered.
"If I walk out of here unmarked, we're both dead. "
“Fine.” The slice was clean and deep enough for blood to flow without needing stitches or causing too much damage. “I’m sorry. We’ll get you patched up as soon as we can.”
I sucked in a breath as Gavriel dropped to his knees right in front of me, no hesitation at all, and ran a wickedly sharp blade along my thigh, slicing my jeans open.
My pulse jumped. The denim peeled away, rough edges brushing against my skin as he exposed the length of my leg.
He didn’t even look up at me, just kept working on the fabric until it parted, wide and raw.
He pressed my bleeding hand against the exposed skin, letting crimson trails trickle down my leg—just enough evidence of torture to be convincing.
I threw my head back and screamed, a raw, guttural sound that echoed off the walls, as though he were carving into my flesh rather than staging our deception.
“I love you, Elin.” His kiss was fast before he started screaming again. “She’s my fucking sister. Tell me where she is or what I’ve done to you will be the least of your worries.”
Our staged argument continued for several minutes, growing louder and more heated until the door burst open. Two of Ezequiel's guards were there, with Harley standing just behind them.
"Don Azzaro wants to see you both. Now."
Gavriel straightened his jacket, shooting me a venomous glare that contained a hidden message: It's time.
The guards escorted us through the mansion's winding corridors, past priceless artwork and antique furniture that had no doubt been purchased with blood money. I counted doors, memorized turns, building a mental map for our escape.
As we approached Ezequiel's private study, I noticed the guards exchanging glances.
The taller one, a man with a scar running down his cheek, gave Gavriel an almost imperceptible nod.
Then, just before we reached the doors, the scarred guard pressed a pistol into my hand, the weight of the weapon familiar and comforting in my palm.
"For Rhea," the guard whispered, stepping back. My gaze flicked to the other guard, who gave a quick nod before I gave them both a small, thankful smile. “She deserves happiness.”
I mouthed a, “Thank you,” as I met Gavriel’s gaze.
Gavriel holstered his gun as I held mine at the small of my back, so as not to give away that I had been cut loose. My finger sat on the trigger as I waited for my opportunity.
The doors to the study swung open, revealing Ezequiel seated in front of an enormous desk, Juarez standing by the fireplace with a glass of scotch in his hand. Both men looked up as we entered, their expressions hardening when they saw us.
"Have you gotten anything useful out of her?" Ezequiel demanded.
Gavriel shook his head. "She's stubborn."
"Then perhaps more persuasive methods are required," Juarez suggested, setting down his glass and moving toward me with predatory intent.
In one fluid motion, Gavriel drew his gun and fired. The bullet caught Juarez between the eyes, his expression frozen in surprise as he crumpled to the floor.
Ezequiel lunged for a drawer just out of reach, but I fired a shot that hit the back of the leather chair behind the desk, causing it to spin slightly toward him.
He froze, head snapping in my direction, and I smirked, already having my weapon trained on him.
"Don't," I warned, my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through me.
"You," he spat with murder in his eyes. "How dare you!"
"Did you really think I wouldn’t come for the man who killed my father?” I growled, stepping closer, my gun unwavering.