Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Ronan
I started the engine and pulled away slowly. Ryan leaned back in the passenger seat, her fingers laced tight with mine.
"Cold?" I turned up the heat.
"No." Her voice was still rough, her cheeks flushed from what we'd just done.
The rain had let up some. I glanced at the GPS on the dash—fastest route was that back road through the industrial district. Hardly any traffic on a good day, dead empty at night. Saved at least twelve minutes over Highway 101.
"What did the kids eat tonight?" Ryan asked.
"Rose wanted roast chicken. Had ice cream too. Pedro, same as always."
"Rose ate cold food again."
"I told her. She didn't listen."
"Father-daughter genetics." Ryan shot me a look. "You're always eating cold sandwiches."
I didn't take the bait, feeling a little guilty as I changed the subject.
"Tired? Sleep for a bit. I'll wake you when we're home."
She hummed in agreement and closed her eyes. I eased off the gas.
Turned into the warehouse district. This stretch had no shops, dim streetlights, not a single car.
The road ahead was pitch black. I was about to switch on the high beams when several blinding lights ripped through the darkness without warning.
I slammed the brakes. The car skidded hard and stopped dead in the middle of the road.
"What's wrong?" Ryan jolted awake, grabbing my arm.
Seven black full-size SUVs blocked the road ahead like a wall, scattered at angles. Moments later, more high beams lit up behind us. We were trapped outside an abandoned auto shop.
"Fuck."
This was an ambush. Boxed in front and back. At least fifteen vehicles.
I reached under the driver's seat into the hidden compartment, pulled out my gun, and shoved the spare magazine in my pocket.
"Listen, Ryan." I gripped her shoulder. "Stay down. No matter what happens out there, no matter what you hear, don't look up. Don't get out of the car. You understand?"
Ryan went pale. She nodded hard. I took a deep breath, pushed open the door, and stepped into the rain.
A pack of mercenaries in black tactical vests jumped down from the vehicles, assault rifles and submachine guns trained on me. From the center of the group emerged a figure that looked completely out of place.
He held a black umbrella, wore an impeccable custom suit in a light color, gold-rimmed glasses beaded with rain. Even here in this muddy industrial wasteland, he looked spotless, his mouth curved in a smile so fake it made you sick.
Nicholas Sterling.
"Good evening, Ronan. California rain nights are quite poetic, don't you think?"
Nick seemed to be savoring the moment. He took off his glasses slowly, pulled out a handkerchief from his breast pocket, and wiped them clean.
"Waiting for backup from Declan or Marco?
" Nick's smile widened. "Don't waste your energy.
Your family's three main operations in New York, plus the Brooklyn docks—my people took them all over in the past few hours.
That old fox Declan is pinned down at headquarters in Manhattan by Night Owl's elite. He's got his hands full."
This bastard. He'd launched a full-scale strike while I had my focus on the West Coast.
"Tonight, this abandoned auto shop is your grave, Ronan."
"With these guys? Nick, you really think a sneak attack is enough to take my territory?"
"I don't give a damn about your territory!" Nick suddenly roared. He threw down his umbrella. "You destroyed Victoria! You locked her in that basement, drove her insane with your pathetic 'truth'! You turned her into a hysterical lunatic!"
He pointed at me, his finger shaking violently in the rain. "She's the only woman I've ever cared about! And you, you destroyed her with your own hands!"
Watching him lose it like this, I just felt absurd.
"She had it coming." I didn't hold back. "She's a snake just like Natasha, head full of power games. You're just a tool she used against me. A dog she could kick aside anytime. Nick, you're pathetic."
His face went dark instantly, but then he laughed—a disturbing, unhinged sound.
His gaze shifted past me to the black SUV behind me.
"Say what you want, Ronan. You won't see tomorrow's sunrise anyway.
" Nick licked his lips, his eyes turning vicious.
"I know Ryan's in the car. Oh, and maybe that little bastard Pedro, too?
After we fill you full of holes tonight, I'm taking them both.
Mother and son. I'll make sure they have a very 'interesting' life. Consider it payback for Victoria."
That sentence was a spark dropped straight into my powder keg of a brain. He dared mention Ryan and Pedro with that filthy mouth?
I took half a step back, blocking the space between the car door and him, raising my gun slightly to lock on Nick's forehead. I'd already calculated the trajectory. Even if these thirty-plus men shot me dead tonight, I was taking this bastard with me.
At that critical moment, the passenger door behind me opened from the inside!
"Ryan! Close the door!"
But she didn't listen. She stepped right out of the car. She still wore my coat, her blonde hair soaked and stuck to her pale face. She walked around the hood and stood beside me.
"Ryan, are you crazy! Get back in!" I tried to force her back into the car, but she grabbed my wrist. I met her eyes. Those blue eyes held no fear.
She turned to face Nick's twisted expression.
"Nicholas Sterling. You think killing Ronan tonight will get Victoria out of the asylum?"
Nick narrowed his eyes, watching her warily. "What are you getting at?"
"Are you still fantasizing that once you avenge her, once you take the Valerius empire for her, she'll throw herself into your arms and love you forever?"
"Shut up!" Nick screamed like she'd hit his deepest wound.
"You're pathetic, Nick. Victoria never loved you. Not for a single day."
"What do you know? That thug just fooled her!"
"She's a Romanov. She's got the same power-hungry blood as Natasha running through her veins! She used your obsession to kill people, to grab power. To her, you were never a lover. You were just a gun she pointed at Ronan!"
"Your men are dying for your pathetic feelings. That's all this is."
The mercenaries started exchanging glances. The tight formation showed hairline cracks.
"You bitch, shut your mouth! Shoot! Kill them both!!"
Nick's mask shattered completely. He flailed like a rabid dog, screaming orders to fire. But his men hesitated—less than a second—because of the doubt she'd planted. For me, it was enough.
"Get down!"
I grabbed Ryan's shoulder and shoved her hard behind the engine block. Almost the instant I pushed her clear, gunfire erupted around us like firecrackers in the rain.
Countless bullets whipped past my body. I didn't retreat. Into the hail of bullets, I charged the two nearest armed mercenaries.
As I rushed forward, Ryan's words flashed through my mind. The promise I'd made her.
"I won't kill anyone anymore."
I forced my trigger finger away.
I slid hard, dodging the spray of bullets from the guy on the left, and closed in. I bent my right arm and slammed it into his jaw with everything I had.
The sound of breaking bone cut clear through the rain. The guy didn't even grunt. His eyes rolled back, and he dropped like a sack.
At the same time, the merc on my right pulled a tactical knife and stabbed at my ribs. I kicked his knee, sent him flying two meters to crash into rusted oil drums. He was done.
To avoid accidental shots, I grabbed the knife and dove into the crowd. This was suicide—a battle that defied all logic. I knocked them out. I dislocated their joints. I broke their legs. But I didn't take a single breath.
I was keeping my promise to Ryan. Even though that promise felt like a chain choking me right now.
Fifth. Sixth. Seventh.
But this was too hard. Holding back the killing instinct while fighting thirty-plus professional killers with no limits—the cost was deadly.
When I dropped the eighth guy, I pulled my punch to avoid his throat. That one inch of adjustment created a gap. I exposed my back.
The sound of a blade cutting flesh was dull in the chaos. "Ugh—" I let out a strangled grunt. Searing pain shot through my entire body.
The guy who'd stabbed me hadn't even pulled the knife out when I spun around and locked my hand around his throat. Instinct screamed at me—one squeeze, and I'd crush his windpipe. But I stopped. Changed my grip. Shoved him like a cannonball into two others charging at me.
Blood mixed with cold rain ran down my arm. I had no time for pain. More men circled like rabid hyenas.
My shirt was soaked through with rain and blood, plastered to my skin. I gasped for air. Rain poured into my eyes. My vision started to blur.
That's when I caught a glimpse that stopped my heart.
Nick.
That lunatic who'd been hiding outside the circle, watching his men get dropped one by one like disposable tools. He'd found his composure again.
He pulled out a silver Beretta, circled around my defensive line, and walked straight toward the car where Ryan was hiding.
"Ryan!"
I crashed through the two mercs blocking me, sprinting toward her with everything I had.
"Die!"
A shout behind me. Someone lunged with a knife.
I heard the wind. But I couldn't dodge. If I moved, I'd be slowed down. I wouldn't reach Nick in time. Unless I killed him. But...
I looked toward Ryan. Nick had the gun to her head. No. I couldn't wait. I took the hit. Even though I avoided vital organs, the pain dropped me to my knees with a splash.
"Ronan, surrender now, or I send her to hell first."