Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
“We don’t.”
“I’m going.” Trent stands.
And I follow him out the door, grabbing his shoulder. “No, you go in there, you die. I won’t have that shit on my shoulders because when I get Ivy back, she will have my balls if I let her brother die for this shit.”
He lets out a long-drawn-out sigh. “Then what?”
“I’ll go in. With my men. You’ll stay here.”
“I—”
I lift my hand. “She will need to know you are safe. You are staying here.”
He nods in defeat, but he won’t argue with me. He’s only ventured a moment in this underworld. I live my life here.
I turn to Matteo. “How many men can you spare?”
His lip tips up, and I know it will cost me.
“I don’t fucking care.” I might sound weak, but she’s it for me. She’s mine, and if it costs me every penny I have ever made, I will gladly pay the price.
He cocks his head. “Done. And it won’t cost you anything else.”
I turn to my men. Fifteen of my most trusted men are here. Awaiting orders.
“Alright, everyone, fall out.”
With Matteo’s men and Alaric’s guns, we are heavily loaded, expecting war, but I don’t think it will come to that. That’s not how the operation works.
The ride from my compound in Connecticut to the warehouse in Jersey is a lot longer than I want, but the use of helicopters is out of the question for now. The sound it would make would give us away for sure. So instead, we have them on standby just in case we need them. We’re not sure what condition we’ll find her in. I shake my head. Nope. I’m not going to think about that now. I need my head in the game if I’m going to get her out of there alive.
The minutes pass slowly, and it’s agony. Even though I tell myself not to think about what I’ll find in that warehouse, I can’t help it. My stomach is in knots. I have never felt this lost before. My brain is on an endless loop of what-ifs. It’s like I’m lost in a maze of my own thoughts, one of the mazes with tall shrubs and no exit.
All the possibilities hitting like a ton of bricks.
“Almost there,” one of Matteo’s men says, and I finally focus back on the road ahead of us. “We are a few miles outside the radius.”
There is no longer a highway. Now, we are on the side roads. Roads that seem deserted. The car slows to a stop, and then it shuts off.
“We get out here and go the rest of the way on foot.”
We all get out, and then we move in. It takes us fifteen minutes on foot to make our way through the trees that surround the warehouse.
This place is isolated. We made the right move by driving in.
Silently, we access the location. Luckily for us, Jaxson Price, who is still at our headquarters at my estate, is guiding us using the satellite he has accessed.
We could have gone in guns blazing, but then we risk casualties. Instead, we scope out the location, and once it’s clear, I nod. It’s time.
“How we getting in?”
Alaric holds up a grenade.
Leave it to him.
The plan is sound. Blow the door, storm the building.
“On three.”
And then it begins.
Mayhem. Complete pandemonium. My ears ring as debris starts to fly. The door completely gone now. Smoke billows out through what must be the hallway. Even with smoke, I can make out the way. I run, not wanting to spare another minute, and then I turn the corner and run some more. It doesn’t take me long to reach the only door in the hallway, and I kick it down. It bursts open, and lifting my gun, I storm in.
What I see has my movements halting, my muscles tightening, and an unnatural anger forms inside me. Tied to a bed is Ivy. She’s still dressed, thankfully, but I see splotches of dried blood on her skin.
Her hair is disheveled, and her eyes are wide. I turn to the other presence in the room. Then I see him. Boris.
He has his butcher knife in his hand.
“Z,” I say, motioning for him to secure Boris before I head to my girl.
Slowly, I pull her to me. “I have you now,” I coo.
She winces at the contact.
“You’re safe.” She turns her head.
I expect her to cower, but instead, she pulls back, looking at Boris.
“Give me the knife.”
My eyes go wide, but I don’t move.
“Give me the fucking knife, Cyrus.”
“Don’t,” I say, looking down. “You don’t want his blood on your hands. Let me take this burden for you.”
“But then it’s on your hands.”
“My hands are already stained with blood.”
She gives me a nod, and I turn to face Boris. He looks from me to Z, who is holding the knife in one hand and a gun in the other.