28. Marco
Chapter Twenty-Eight
MARCO
My heart hammers in my chest as I pull up to the crumbling remains of what used to be a farmhouse where Cillian is hiding away. It’s nothing more than a decaying hideout tucked deep in the woods on the outskirts of Westchester.
The gravel driveway crunches under our tires as my men and I roll in slowly with our headlights off, not wanting to attract attention too soon. Our convoy of SUVs and trucks fans out across the property, with Bruno positioned on the south side and Carlos circling the east.
We've gone over the plan twice, so there should be no surprises, and definitely no mistakes.
We have one shot at this, and I don’t plan on wasting it.
What I can’t understand is why Cillian is here.
He doesn’t hide in places like this unless he’s either running from something or baiting a trap.
And Cillian Moore doesn’t run.
I slide out of the driver’s seat and pull my gun from my waistband. The weight of it in my hands familiar and grounding. My boots hit the gravel, and I stalk forward, nodding at Vince who’s watching the back entrance through a sniper’s scope.
The minute he gives me the all-clear, we move.
Glass shatters and doors fly off their hinges as gunfire cracks through the still night air like a whip.
But I barely notice the noise.
I shove my way through the house, firing on instinct as Cillian’s men come at me.
Bodies drop left, right, and center, some from my own bullets and some from Enzo and Jax’s who flank me.
The hallway narrows, and one of Cillian’s men appears in the doorway at the end.
Before he can even aim his weapon, Enzo fires a shot through his eye, and he crumbles to the ground.
Just as quickly as the fight started, the gunshots turn into echoes ringing in my ears, and the house falls silent.
I turn to Jax. “Remember your orders.”
He nods, rolling his eyes. “Don’t shoot the Irish bastard.”
I huff a quick laugh before turning dead serious.
“He’s mine.”
We stalk down the hallway, glancing in every room we pass to make sure no more of Cillian’s men are hiding.
The house smells of mold and stale cigarettes. Broken furniture and old food containers litter the floor, no doubt left over from squatters. The place is a fucking shithole, which is exactly why Cillian chose it.
No one would ever think to look for someone as wealthy and powerful as him in a place like this.
But I know better.
At the end of the hall is the kitchen, and sitting at an old, red-topped diner style table with a cigarette dangling from his mouth, like we’re all just here for a fucking tea party, is Cillian.
He looks up at the sound of my footsteps and a smirk tugs at his cracked lips.
“Well, well.” He flicks ash onto the floor. “Didn’t expect a welcoming committee.”
“Get up.” My gun is aimed straight at his face.
He doesn’t move.
Instead, he leans back in his chair and takes a long drag on his cigarette, his eyes flicking over me.
“This is a bold move, De Luca. Ye sure ye’ve thought it through?”
He doesn’t look particularly annoyed or surprised by my sudden appearance or the fact that I took out at least a dozen of his men. If anything, the fucker looks amused.
“I’ve thought it through plenty.”
Cillian chuckles, taking another long drag of his cigarette.
“ Ye ever think about what happens to yer precious little family while ye’re out playing the hero? Yer brother and that sweet little girl of yers … Clara.”
My jaw clenches at the mention of her name.
Cillian lifts a brow, no doubt noticing my body stiffening.
“How much do ye really trust that they’re safe?”
There’s a wicked gleam in his gray eyes, but I don’t falter.
My gun remains aimed right between his eyes as his words hang in the air between us.
He’s bluffing.
He has to be.
But then again, this is Cillian Moore. He would no doubt have planned for the fact that I might double cross him, which means he would likely have eyes on Clara and Andre right now, with men waiting for the order to pull the trigger if I dared to step out of line.
Fuck .
Despite my fears, I don’t let them show on my face.
I gesture at him with my gun. “Stand up.”
Cillian grinds out his cigarette on the red tabletop and finally rises, his movements slow and deliberate. He’s stalling, but I’m done waiting.
I shift my aim and shoot, landing one bullet on his left thigh and one on his right.
He drops like dead weight, howling as blood pours from the wounds.
Before he can even catch his breath to scream a second time, I cross the room and slam my boot into his stomach
Cillian chokes on a breath, his huge body folding inwards at the impact.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t see through your bullshit?” I pocket my gun before kicking him again. “You think this was about money? About territory?”
Another kick followed by a grunt of pain.
“It’s about the girls you sell to appease your little friends in the hopes of gaining power.”
Cillian coughs up blood, spitting it on my boots, before looking up at me with cold fury in his eyes.
“Such big words…from a man…who plays god…just like me.”
I kneel down on the floor beside him and curl my fingers into the collar of his shirt, his blood soaking into the material of my pants.
“But at least I know to choose players who know the game and want to play.” I slam my head into his nose.
The satisfying crunch of bone breaking has my lips pulling up into a smile, but I’m far from done.
I release my hold on Cillian before curling my hand into a fist and slamming it into his face, fracturing his cheekbone.
Cillian barely has a chance to catch a breath before I punch him again, even harder.
I don’t stop until his head rolls back, and his eyes flutter shut as he fights consciousness.
When I’m thoroughly spent and satisfied he has learned his lesson, I take out my gun and fire one last bullet straight through his skull.
The kitchen falls silent, the only sound is my own heartbeat thundering in my ears, as I look down at Cillian’s lifeless body.
Claps sound from behind me. “Fucking finally.”
My head snaps around to see Bruno entering the kitchen, nodding his head.
“Get your guys to clean this up.” I climb to my feet.
Carlos appears beside his brother, his arms crossed over his chest and blood splattered over his face.
“What about the rest of his network?” He looks down at Cillian’s lifeless body. “He surely wasn’t working alone.”
“No, but now that he’s taken care of, his empire will easily start to crumble. So, we’ll take it apart, piece by piece.”
As the brothers fall into a muffled discussion, I pull my phone out of my pocket.
I need to send an update to Andre, letting him know that Cillian has been taken care of.
As I go to open the message app, the screen lights up.
I have half a dozen missed calls and a few texts from my brother asking me where the hell I am.
And I almost drop the damn thing when a voicemail from Clara comes through.
“Shit.”
I told her to only contact me in case of an emergency because I didn’t want to risk Cillian learning about her location.
I press play on the voicemail and hold it up to my ear, but all I can hear is muffled voices in the background. I can’t make any sense of it, which only adds to my concern.
Carlos must notice the shift in my expression as he stalks toward me. “What is it?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“That from your girl?” He glances at my phone as I put it on speaker and play it again for him to hear.
“Something’s wrong.”
He claps me on the shoulder. “Go. Bruno and I will organize the cleanup, and we’ll be right behind you. It looks like the fight isn’t over yet.”
I nod, shoving my phone back into my pocket as I sprint for the door.
If something’s happened to Clara…
I don’t even finish the thought. I can’t.
I just get in my car and drive like hell.
Every second I spend behind the wheel, visions of what might be wrong play through my mind like a horror movie.
Please God, let them be okay.
My knuckles are slowly turning purple with bruises from knocking out Cillian, but I barely feel the pain as I grip the wheel tighter.
With my foot to the floor, I can make it to the safehouse in less than fifteen minutes.
But I may already be too late.
When I pull up to the safehouse, my stomach drops.
The bodies of our guards litter the ground. The front door is wide open, swinging on broken hinges, but I can’t see anyone inside.
No, no, no .
I’m out of the car with my gun raised as I sprint toward the house. I spot more guards in the bushes surrounding the property with their throats slashed and their eyes open and unseeing as they bleed out into the dirt.
Fuck.
I storm inside just as a gunshot slices through the air.
I duck as my head whips around at the sound of wood splintering behind me.
My eyes scan the room and land on him.
Ben.
“You fucking snake.” I’m going to kill him.
I stop short when he drags Clara forward and presses the barrel of his gun into her temple.
Her beautiful green eyes are wide as she looks at me, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tries to breathe.
My eyes flick down to her abdomen, knowing that if Ben pulls that trigger, I’ll lose so much more than just the love of my life. I’ll lose my child too.
Where the fuck is Andre?
I chance a look around the rest of the room.
The ten women are huddled in the corner, looking even more terrified than when I picked them up from Cillian’s men.
What the hell happened here?
Andre was meant to be protecting them, protecting Clara , and I know my brother wouldn’t ever break his promise without good reason.
But I can’t think about that now. Not when Ben is holding Clara’s life in his hands.
“Step away from her.”
Ben shakes his head, and he has the fucking nerve to smirk.
He goes to open his mouth to speak, but I don’t give him the chance. I don’t want to hear another word spill from his lips ever again.
I lunge.
Ben falls backward just as he pulls the trigger.
No…
The sound of splintering wood as the bullet lodges never felt so good.
Clara tries reaching for me. “Marco!”
I don’t stop. Even if I get shot in the process, it will be worth it if it meant Clara gets to live.
Ben and I go crashing to the ground as I try to wrestle the gun from him.
I slam my bruised fist into his jaw before wrapping my hand around his neck to pin him to the ground.
He tries to push me off of him, but my body is an immovable weight.
I straddle my thighs on either side of his body to keep him down. “Clara. Get the gun.”
She doesn’t hesitate. She kicks the weapon out of Ben’s hand and reaches down to pick it up.
“Good girl.” I tighten my fingers around Ben’s throat.
His face is slowly turning purple as he fights for air, but I’m not feeling particularly forgiving, so I simply press down harder.
“I warned you what would happen if you crossed us.”
“Marco…” Clara sobs as Ben starts to lose consciousness.
Is she seriously having second thoughts about me taking out her brother?
“He was going to shoot you, Clar?—”
“Please. It’s not about Ben. It’s…it’s Andre.”
My grip instantly loosens as I look over my shoulder to find my brother on the floor of the kitchen, blood soaking through his shirt. His skin is gray, and his chest is barely moving.
“No.” I get to my feet and rush to his side. “Don’t you fucking dare die on me.” I drop to my knees beside him and place my hands over the bullet wound in his abdomen. “You hear me, Andre? You are not allowed to die.”
Andre winces as he tries to open his eyes, his face covered in sweat just from the effort of trying to breathe.
“Don’t say anything,” I press down harder on the wound. “You need to preserve your strength.”
“Andre was protecting me.” Clara kneels by my side, tears streaming down her face. “He went to fire, but Ben was quicker…”
Her voice cracks, and I feel as if my heart is being ripped out of my chest.
“Marco, is he going to be okay?”
I don’t answer.
The amount of blood surrounding Andre is alarming, and his skin is pale and clammy.
I need to get him to a hospital soon, but I can’t just leave all these girls here for some of Cillian’s men to find.
Just as I’m trying to think through a plan, tires crunch over gravel outside, making Clara jump beside me.
As promised, Bruno and Carlos appear in the doorway with their weapons raised. Though they stop dead in their tracks when they look around the room at the carnage.
Bruno’s eyes widen. “Fuck.”
Carlos stalks over to Ben’s unconscious body and kicks him with his boot. “Is he alive?”
I grit my teeth. “Barely. Do whatever you want with him, but don’t kill him.”
Carlos bends down to grab Ben by the collar, dragging him out of the house like a sack of trash. “We’ll take him to the warehouse.”
“Good.” I bend down to lift Andre.
I grunt under his weight, my biceps burning as I shift him into my arms, but I don’t falter.
Clara tries to reach for me. “Marco?—”
“Get in the car. We need to get him to the hospital.”
She nods, running ahead of me out of the house to open up the back door of the SUV.
Fear is written all over her face as she looks at Andre, but so is determination.
We can’t afford to fall apart.
My brother is still alive, and I have every intention of keeping it that way.