Chapter 13
Emmett
Gunfire rips through the air.
The moment we breach the compound, chaos erupts. The acrid scent of gunpowder fills my lungs as I take cover behind a stack of crates, my heart hammering in my chest. The warehouse is a fucking war zone—Dante’s men are everywhere, bullets cutting through the air like lethal whispers.
"Move in!" Ryan barks over the comms, his voice sharp and controlled. "No one leaves unless we say so."
I don’t need to be told twice.
I surge forward, taking down the first guard in my path with a clean shot between the eyes.
He drops like a sack of bricks, his weapon clattering to the ground.
Another one rounds the corner, raising his rifle—I’m faster.
I drive my fist into his throat, crushing his windpipe, then twist the knife from my boot into his gut before he can make a sound.
To my right, Asher moves like a ghost through the carnage, his silencer spitting death. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t miss. Each shot is calculated, each movement deliberate. This isn’t just a mission for him—this is personal. I see it in his eyes, the same cold fury I feel burning through my veins.
Vince, on the other hand, is a goddamn wrecking ball.
He kicks down a door and unloads into the room, taking out three men before they even have a chance to register what’s happening. "Fuckers thought they could hide," he mutters, stepping over the bodies like they’re nothing more than obstacles. "Cute."
A scream echoes down the corridor.
Raine.
Everything in me tightens. My grip on my gun turns vice-like as I charge toward the sound, my focus narrowing to a singular point. Find her. Save her. Kill anyone who stands in my way.
I barely register Ryan at my back, covering me as I push forward. A guard lunges at me from the side—I slam my elbow into his face, feel the crunch of bone before I shove my gun under his chin and pull the trigger. His blood sprays warm against my arm as his body slumps to the ground.
"Emmett!" Theo’s voice cuts through the comms. "Dante’s heading toward the south exit. He’s got Raine."
I don’t think. I fucking run.
My boots pound against the concrete as I sprint through the maze of hallways, following the scent of blood and the sound of struggle. I turn the corner just in time to see Dante dragging Raine toward the back door, his arm locked around her throat, a gun pressed against her temple.
Rage detonates in my chest.
"Let. Her. Go."
Dante smirks, his grip tightening. "Or what? You’ll shoot me? Risk putting a bullet in your precious little runaway?"
Raine meets my gaze, her eyes wild but clear. She’s not scared. She’s pissed.
"I swear to God, Moreau—"
"You’re not in a position to swear anything, Calloway." He cocks the gun, pressing it harder against Raine’s skull. "Drop your weapon. Or she dies."
The world narrows. The sounds of battle fade into a distant hum. It’s just me, Raine, and the man who has taken everything from her.
I tighten my grip on my gun.
I don’t drop shit.
Not this time.
I take a step forward, gun still raised, but Dante shifts, dragging Raine against him, his grip bruising. His smirk widens. "I knew you’d come for her. You always were predictable."
"You’ve got one chance, Moreau," I growl. "Let her go. Now."
Dante laughs, a dark, mocking sound that sends my blood boiling. "And miss the opportunity to finally put you in the ground? No, Calloway. We settle this here. You and me."
Behind me, Asher, Ryan, and Vince storm in, their weapons raised. The room is a bloodbath, Dante’s men lying in heaps across the floor. But no one moves. Not yet.
"Stay out of this," I mutter to them without looking back. "This is between me and him."
Ryan hesitates, but Asher nods once, his expression grim. "We’ve got your back."
Dante’s grip on Raine loosens just enough for her to yank free, stumbling forward. I grab her wrist, pulling her behind me as she gasps for breath. She’s safe. Now, it’s just him and me.
I toss my gun to the ground. "Let’s finish this."
Dante grins. "I thought you’d never ask."
Then he lunges.
He’s fast, but I’m faster. I dodge the first swing and drive my fist into his ribs, making him grunt. He recovers quickly, countering with a vicious uppercut that sends pain exploding through my jaw. Fucker still hits like a freight train.
We crash into the crates, fists flying, bones crunching. I land a brutal hook to his face, splitting his lip wide open. He stumbles but doesn’t go down. Instead, he laughs, spitting blood onto the concrete. "That all you got?"
I launch forward, tackling him to the ground. We roll, grappling for control, but Dante slips a blade from his belt and slashes at my side. Pain ignites across my ribs, but I ignore it, grabbing his wrist and slamming it into the floor until the knife clatters away.
Then he rams his knee into my gut.
I grunt, momentarily losing focus, and that’s all he needs. He flips me onto my back, straddling me, landing a brutal punch straight to my temple. The room spins, my vision blurring at the edges. Fuck.
Dante grips the front of my shirt, yanking me up before slamming my head back against the concrete. Once. Twice.
Stars explode in my vision. My body screams in protest. Move, goddammit.
But I can’t.
Dante grabs the discarded gun from the floor, shoving the barrel under my chin. Fuck.
He’s panting, blood trickling down the side of his face as he stares down at me. His eyes burn with triumph, with the sick pleasure of watching me bleed out beneath him.
"Any last words, Calloway?"