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It’s been years since I’ve been in the middle of anything like this, but my body reacts on instinct. Getting out of the church is all that matters, and we plow forward, the Bratva dropping like flies as we burst out into the open air. The doors to the car are open, and Josef and I fling ourselves into it, two more men following as the driver peels away from the curb, heading in a direction further downtown.
“There!” Josef gestures as the car swerves to the left, pointing at a blacked-out town car just ahead. “That’s the car that took her.”
“Follow him!” I snap at the driver, my voice a hoarse snarl. “Don’t you fucking let it get away.”
“Got it, boss.” The driver’s voice is flat, the car lurching forward as he steps on the gas, and I stare at the car, willing us not to lose it. New York’s afternoon traffic is thick, and the car weaves back and forth, swinging down a side street and losing sight of the other car before the driver emerges two streets down, close enough to see but not so close that they’ll clock us—hopefully.
My hand grips the gun until my knuckles turn white, sweat beading on the back of my neck. I can only imagine how terrified Gia must be, and it makes me feel murderous, so filled with a black rage that I know every Bratva man between her and I is going to have seen his last sunrise this morning.
I’ll kill anyone I have to in order to get her back. I’ll do anything I need to do.
Nothing matters as much as knowing she’s safe.
The car swings down another street, picking up speed, taking a corner so fast that, for a moment, I think we’re going to flip. My heart surges into my throat, and I grip the side of the seat, leaning forward as the driver gains on the blacked-out car.
And then he steps on the brake, skidding into an alley and coming to a halt.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I snarl, and the driver turns around.
“They’re stopping at that hotel.” He points up the road. “Didn’t want to get closer, or they might have seen.”
“Good work.” Josef leans back, popping a clip out of his gun and replacing it with a fresh one, tucking two more into his pockets. “Men, let’s go. Salvatore, let me cover you.”
“Fine. So long as I get to Gia.” I slide out of the car, taking the gun and clips that one of my men hand me. “I need a clear path to her. Whatever that takes.”
“You got it.” Josef motions to the men. “Let’s go.”
We make our way up the street, through the alleys to avoid attention, to the back of the hotel. The car is gone by the time we get there, and I clench my teeth, trying not to think about what might be happening to Gia. What could still happen, if we don’t get there fast enough.
There are two Bratva men at the back door. Josef drops them before they even have a chance to see us, the silencer on his gun making the sound of the shot nothing but a dull click as the bullets find their target. We slink forward through the shadows, the night closing in around us as Josef opens the door and motions the men in, then walks in ahead of me.
We’d been concerned about hotel staff or guests seeing us, but we hadn’t needed to be. There’s no staff here, no guests—this is clearly a hotel front for a building the Bratva uses for other means. We round the corner only to see five men heading towards us, and in seconds, the hall is filled with smoke as we all fire.
One of my men lets out a pained cry as a bullet strikes his shoulder, slumping against the wall. The dark hallway carpet turns darker still, blood soaking into it as body after body hits the floor. We push forward towards the stairwell, cutting down the Bratva, my hands working on instinct as I empty the gun and shove another clip into it.
Josef yanks the stairwell door open, and we charge up onto the stairs. Halfway up, I hear a choked sound, and turn to see one of my men falling backward, tumbling in a smear of blood and the sound of cracking bones as Bratva rush in, following us and shooting one of mine. Josef and the others turn instantly, releasing a volley of gunfire and mowing them down as I and three more of my men charge up, pushing ahead.
The second floor is so empty that I know Gia can’t be there. The same for the third. But the fourth is crawling with Bratva, and I lean back into the stairwell, reloading my gun as Josef and my men do the same.
“There’s a hell of a lot out there,” I murmur. “It’s going to be tough getting through.”
Josef nods. “We’ve got this.” He pauses, and I hear footsteps. “Backup,” he says. “We’ll get her back, boss. Just one more push, and we’ll get to her.”
When the door opens, we flood out into the hall, gunfire going off the moment we emerge, and the Bratva turn to meet us. Over the sounds of shooting and through the haze, I look down the hall, and my entire body tenses.
I see him. Pyotr. Stepping out of a room towards the end of the hallway.
“Josef!” I shout my enforcer’s name, and he turns, following my gaze. Without hesitation, he motions to three more of my men, and the five of us push forward, the rest bringing up the rear and clearing a path all around us as we move toward the room where I’m certain Gia is.
Pyotr turns, meeting my gaze, and everything narrows down. There’s a sick irony in how similar it is to the moment when I knew how I felt about Gia, when the world disappeared around me, and there was only her. Only her softness, her scent, her body against mine, and the taste of her mouth, everything else vanishing except for what was right in front of me.
Only this time, it’s not love that blooms through me like a red cloud of blood; it’s hate. It’s pure, unadulterated fury, and as my gaze narrows down on Pyotr and the sounds of gunshots and the scent of smoke and blood fade into the background, it’s because all that matters to me at that moment is that he dies.
He smirks, as if I’m not coming for him, ready to tear him to pieces if that’s what it takes. He says something, but I can’t hear it, my ears ringing too loudly to make out the words. It doesn’t matter—I don’t give a shit what he has to say.
He raises his gun, and I raise mine, a second quicker than he is. That’s all that matters, in a moment like this. A split second faster, and the other guy is a dead man.
I feel the trigger sink under my finger, and I see the moment the bullet strikes Pyotr in the shoulder. He recoils, and I shoot again, this time aiming for his knee.
