20. Lachlan
LACHLAN
The plane touches down at one in the morning with a jolt that runs through my entire body. I'm out of my seat before we've fully stopped, my gun already checked and loaded. Rian and Jack are right behind me, along with Cormac, Tommy, and three other men I'd trust with my life.
I left Adriana sleeping in our bed and Matteo safe in his room with guards posted throughout the penthouse. I kissed her forehead before I left, whispered that I'd be back soon, that everything would be fine.
It has to be the truth. If I don't come back from this, if I don't end Gio tonight, she'll be alone again. Vulnerable. So I have to come back. I have to end this.
The SUVs are waiting outside, engines running. We pile in and head toward the estate. The streets are empty at this hour, the ritzy neighborhood where the Santoro estate is located quiet and peaceful, everyone asleep behind their high fences and guarded walls.
"Two minutes out," Rian says from the driver's seat, his voice calm and steady. I check my gun again. I have two spare magazines in my jacket pocket and a knife strapped to my leg. Overkill, maybe, but I'm not taking chances. Not with Adriana and Matteo waiting for me back home.
The estate comes into view, and we park behind a stand of trees and approach on foot. Rian signals for the men to spread out, covering the exits. Jack moves to the side door with me, his gun drawn, his face set in the same grim expression I'm wearing.
I test the handle. Locked. Jack pulls out his lock-pick kit and gets to work. The door swings open with a soft creak, and we slip inside.
The mansion is quiet. It's almost too quiet… and we weave through the halls, sticking close to the walls and in the shadows.
I see a light on under a door, and hear a low, broken cough. Slowly, I move forward, nudging the door open, and I see blood on the floor.
I signal for Jack to cover me, my heart pounding hard enough that I can feel it in my throat. I want Gio to be behind that door, maybe at the wrong end of Declan's gun, waiting for me so I can put a bullet in his skull, and finally—finally—Adriana and Matteo will be safe.
I kick the door open and step inside, my gun aimed at the center of the room.
And I stop.
There are men on the floor, four of them, all of them injured and looking at me with expressions that range from relief to something that might be shame. But it's the man sitting against the wall, blood soaking through his shirt, that makes everything else fade away.
Declan.
"Jesus Christ." I cross the room, dropping to my knees beside him. "What the fuck happened?"
"Lachlan." His voice is strained. "Took you long enough."
I haven't seen Declan in ten years, not since I disappeared into the Chicago underworld and clawed my way up from nothing to everything.
We were just scrappy kids back then, and he was the only person who knew about Adriana and what she meant to me.
The only person I trusted with the truth.
The thought of something happening to him makes my chest feel tight.
"What happened?" I ask again, looking to assess the damage. There's a bullet wound in his shoulder, another in his thigh, both of them still bleeding.
"We had him." Declan coughs. "I thought we had Gio cornered. But someone tipped him off. He knew we were coming. He was ready. He left a skeleton crew here. They're all dead, but Gio and anyone who mattered wasn't here."
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. "Who?"
"One of mine." He gives me an apologetic, ashamed look, and jerks his chin toward the corner of the room. I follow his gaze to where another man is sitting, his hands zip-tied behind his back, his face bruised and swollen. "Brad. Been with me for three years. Thought I could trust him."
I stand up, my gun coming back up, aimed at Brad's head. The rage that floods through me is white-hot and consuming. "You sold us out?"
"Boss, I didn't—" Brad is shaking, his eyes wide with terror. "I swear, I didn't know what Gio was planning. He said he just wanted information, that's all. He said nobody would get hurt—"
"Shut the fuck up." Declan's voice strengthens and cuts through the air like a whip, and Brad flinches. "You told him we were coming. You got my men shot, and you're sitting there trying to tell me you didn't know?"
"I needed the money," Brad's voice breaks. "Gio said—"
"I don't give a fuck what Gio said." Declan tries to stand, but his leg gives out, and he slumps back against the wall with a grunt of pain. "Lachlan. Help me up."
I move to his side and haul him to his feet, supporting most of his weight as he sways. He's heavier than I remember, more solid, but he's also weaker than he should be. The blood loss is catching up to him.
"You should sit down," I say. "You need a doctor."
"I should—" He reaches for his gun and sees it's still on the floor where he was sitting. "Fuck."
"Don't worry, brother." My jaw tightens, and I ease him back down. "I've got this."
I look at Brad. "You know anything about where Gio went? What he's doing?"
He shakes his head rapidly. "No! No… I don't know nothin', I just…"
"Then there's nothing stopping me from doing this."
I draw my gun with one quick motion, and the report of the bullet makes my ears ring. Brad slumps, blood trickling from a hole in his forehead.
"I'm sorry," Declan says quietly. "He betrayed everything we stand for. I told my crew what Gio was doing, why we were helping you, and that fucker still—"
"It happens." My jaw is tight, teeth gritting together. "I don't blame you. But we need to figure out where the fuck Gio went. And we need to get you patched up."
I crouch beside him and start checking his wounds again. The shoulder wound isn't as bad as I thought, but the thigh wound is worse. The bullet's still in there. "We need to get you to a hospital."
"No hospitals." His voice is firm despite the pain. "Too many questions. Just get me something to stitch myself up with. I'll be fine."
"You're not fine."
"I've had worse." He leans his head back against the wall, his eyes closing. "You really did it, huh? You came back here for her."
"I told you I would, when I left the first time."
"I know. I just didn't think..." He trails off, then opens his eyes and looks at me. "Is she worth it? All of this?"
The question should offend me, but it doesn't. It's a valid question, from a man who loves me like a brother but isn't in love with Adriana. Is she worth the blood that's already been spilled? Is she worth everything I've built and everything I could lose?
"Yes," I say firmly. "She's worth everything."
Declan nods slowly. "Then let's make sure you get to keep her."
One of the other men brings over a first aid kit. I help Declan out of his jacket and shirt, exposing the wounds. The shoulder is already starting to clot, but the thigh is still bleeding steadily. "This is going to hurt," I warn him.
"Everything hurts." He grabs a leather belt from one of the other men and puts it between his teeth. "Just do it."
I work as quickly as I can, cleaning the wounds and packing them with gauze.
The thigh wound needs stitches, and I'm not gentle about it.
Declan grunts and groans around the belt, his hands clenched into fists, but he doesn't cry out.
When I'm done, he spits out the belt and takes a shaky breath. "Fuck."
"You need antibiotics," I say. "And probably a blood transfusion."
"I'll live." He looks at me, and there's something in his expression that makes my chest tighten. "You remember that summer when we were kids? When you told me about her?"
I remember. We were both barely eighteen, and I'd just met Adriana for the first time.
She was sixteen and the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, off-limits because of her father and for at least two years because of her age.
I'd told Declan about her because I had to tell someone or I was going to explode.
"I remember," I say.
"You said you were going to marry her someday." He laughs, but it's a weak sound. "I told you that you were crazy. That her father would never allow it. That you were just a kid with a crush."
"You were right."
"No, I wasn't." He reaches out and grabs my arm, his grip surprisingly strong. "You did marry her. You went back for her. You kept your promise."
I look away. "I don't know if she sees it that way."
"She will." His grip tightens. "Just don't fuck it up."
My phone rings. The sound cuts through the moment like a knife, and I pull it out of my pocket, already thinking I know who it is before I see the name on the screen.
Gio.
I answer, bringing the phone to my ear. "You're a dead man."
"Am I?" His voice is amused, like we're old friends catching up. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're the one who's fucked, Gallagher. You came all the way to New York to kill me, and I'm not even there. Must be embarrassing."
"Where the fuck are you?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?" He pauses, and I can hear the smile in his voice. "But I found something of yours. Or should I say, someone."
My blood turns to ice. Every muscle in my body goes rigid, and I can feel Declan watching me. "What are you talking about?"
"Your wife, Lachlan. And your son. They're with me now." He lets that sink in for a moment. "And if you ever want to see them again, you're going to do exactly what I tell you."
The world tilts. I grip the phone so hard I'm surprised it doesn't shatter in my hand. "If you touch her—"