28. Leon
28
LEON
T he chaos outside the compound is deafening: gunfire cracks through the air, punctuated by the occasional explosion that rattles the earth beneath my feet. Smoke curls into the night sky, blotting out the stars.
It’s a damn symphony of war, and I should be directing it, not skulking in the shadows like a ghost.
But Mia is inside. And that’s all that matters.
The hardest part had been convincing Teo that I intended to stay and commit to my bed rest. Slipping out of the hospital had been child’s play.
I press my back to the concrete wall of the perimeter, the coarse surface biting into my shoulder blades. Every step I take sends a fiery ache through me, radiating outward from the bullet wound in my chest.
I’m slower than I’d like to be, stiffer to avoid agitating the wound that is packed under enough gauze that I may as well be wearing a corset. But I use the pain to sharpen my instincts as I peer around the corner of the wall.
What remains of the Guild and the Prince’s Hand have swarmed the compound. They’re focused on the main entrance, drawing the Cartel’s fire.
Amos Rubio’s men are pouring out like ants from a hill, armed to the teeth. The Guild’s tech specialists hacked into the compound’s surveillance system, leaving the enemy blind to anything but what’s in front of them.
Which serves my purposes perfectly.
I slip through a side entrance, a rusted maintenance door I remember from the blueprints. It’s unguarded—likely overlooked in the chaos—and creaks like a dying animal when I push it open. The sound makes me grit my teeth.
The hallway beyond is dimly lit, the faint hum of fluorescent lights overhead barely cutting through the darkness. The muffled sounds of battle grow distant as I venture deeper.
I stick close to the wall, my steps careful, my breathing controlled. My reactions are slower, my movements less precise. But my ears prickle at every sound, and my eyes are sharp and alert.
I’m still a weapon of war.
The first man I encounter rounds a corner without checking his angles. Sloppy.
I’m on him before he can react, my hand clamping over his mouth while my blade finds the soft flesh between his ribs. His muffled scream is short-lived, his body sagging into my arms as I lower him to the ground silently.
I wipe the blood on his uniform and keep moving, my chest burning with every step.
I check the next corner to find two guards stationed at the end of the corridor, blocking my path. I press myself into the shadows, fingers curling around the hilt of my knife.
My chest burns in protest as I breathe deeply. Every movement needs to count.
When one of them turns away to adjust his earpiece, I strike. A single, brutal slash to the first man’s throat before he can blink.
The second guard raises his weapon, but I’m already inside his range, driving the knife into his gut and twisting until he falls silent.
The hallway is clear again, but my breath comes heavier now, the pain in my chest a roaring fire. I collapse to my knees, darkness threatening to encompass my vision.
“Fuck,” I breathe, and I breathe, half-heartedly backing up against the wall in case someone charges through the doors.
If anyone finds me here, vulnerable and exposed like this…
I don’t think about it. I think about Mia. Mia is here. Liza and Luca are waiting with Isabella for her. They need their mother.
I need my wife.
The roaring flames in my chest begin to subside, and I shakily break open the painkillers I brought in case of emergency. They’ll make me more sluggish, but I can’t collapse like this again.
Not when Max is somewhere in this hellhole.
I slowly get to my feet and return to my mission.
The air grows heavier as I move deeper into the compound, the smell of gunpowder mixing with the acrid stench of blood.
The fight seems both inches away and too far out of reach. Every time I think it’s getting closer, I turn another corner, and it’s faded back again.
The blueprints indicated that the cell block was near a wide storage room on the ground floor. It was perhaps presumptuous of me to think that such a non-vital space would be left unguarded and that the bigger threat would be stationed outside the prison.
This much becomes clear as I slip into the storage room, only to be greeted by a slow clap, halting me in my tracks.
Max.
He stands in a wide storage room, leaning casually against a stack of crates as if this is all some kind of joke. A pistol dangles loosely from his hand, his gaze sharp and his smile threatening as he surveys the state I’m in.
“I gotta say, Leon. You’re one hard man to kill,” he says, straightening slightly.
This is the man I trusted for months. The mastermind behind my every downfall.
“What can I say? You’re a sloppy shot.” I twirl the knife in my fingers as I stalk toward him.
Max’s smile only widens. He steps forward, closing the gap between us.
I can see the confidence in his eyes—the kind of arrogance that comes from knowing you’ve got the upper hand.
“You look like hell, boss,” he taunts, gesturing to my chest. “That little souvenir I gave you slowing you down? You should’ve stayed in your hospital bed.”
I lunge at him, slashing low with my knife, but he’s ready. He sidesteps, the blade missing his gut by a fraction of an inch. His fist connects with my ribs, and pain explodes through my torso, nearly driving me to my knees.
“See? You’re too slow now. Too weak,” he circles me like a predator. “Is Teo Vitale so desperate that he’d send an invalid to do his dirty work?”
He kicks my knife from my hand, sending it skittering across the floor. I barely dodge the next blow, using his momentum to drive my shoulder into his chest.
He staggers back with a laugh. “No, that’s not his style, is it? You’re here on your own. Couldn’t resist the temptation to play the hero, could you?”
I freeze as Max levels his gun on me, a damning sense of deja-vu hammering through my burning chest.
“What’s that little wife of yours going to think when I tell her you were too weak to save her?”
The fire is unbearable. The pain is intolerable. I close my eyes and breathe, praying that my legs will hold out.
I’m a fast draw, but with Max’s gun already pointed at my chest…
“You’re pathetic, Leon. I hope you die knowing it was all for nothing.”
My legs give out.
Bang.
The bullet soars over my head, where my torso had been a fraction of a second before.
I don’t think. I just draw.
The angle is terrible, and I’m unable to compensate entirely for my body’s awkward trajectory. But the trigger is pulled just before I black out from the pain of hitting the floor.
I wake up several seconds later, wishing I were dead. There’s blood seeping into my shirt from where my wound is leaking. I’m out of time.
But there’s something else. A choking noise only a few feet away.
With the remainder of my strength, I turn my head to find Max stumbling to his knees, hands clutched to his throat.
The bullet had shot clean through it.
His eyes are wide with shock as he collapses into a pool of his own blood.
It’s done.
I close my eyes and go back to sleep.
Hours pass. Minutes. Seconds. I can’t be sure. Nothing has any meaning but the brutal pain in my chest and the dizzy, spinning that keeps me pressed to the floor.
“LEON!” Dante’s voice cuts through my unconsciousness with the brutality of a gong.
My eyes snap open to the sight of him crowding over me; medical kit splayed open at my side. Vaguely, I’m aware that my shirt has been removed, and my chest feels tighter again.
“YOU STUPID BASTARD!”
“Maybe,” I concede with a groan as I prop myself up on my elbows. “But I shot Max in the throat.”
“You could have died!” He throws his hands up in the air in exasperation.
“I didn’t. I’m fine.”
“The hell you are,” he growls as he helps me to my feet. “We’re leaving. Now.”
“I’m going to the cell block. You can’t stop me,” I snap.
Dante groans, pinching the bridge of his nose like I’m the world’s biggest headache. “Teo will fucking kill me if I don’t get you out of here.”
“Then get me out of here…let’s just leave via the cell block,” I challenge, meeting his gaze. “It’s just over here.”
He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “You’re insane.”
I know the fight has left him as I slap him on the shoulder while making my way to the double doors on the far side of the room.
Dante is at my side in an instant, pushing past us to deal with the door guards stationed behind it.
“This must be it,” he mutters as we take in the long corridor and the door to the left where the guards had been posted.
I don’t hesitate to kick it down, bursting into the room with my gun raised.
But it’s not breathtaking green eyes that stare down the barrel. It’s brown one. Eyes I never thought I’d see here.