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“Stop.”
“I’ll shut…up.”
“D..on’t.”
The world warps, and suddenly, I don’t feel so cold anymore.
Dario
We’re an hour behind the fuckers, which has given them one hell of a head start.
The van stopped near a marina and is now heading back in our direction. Which could mean they either dropped Eden off or worse.
“Give or take twenty minutes until we’ll cross paths with them,” I mutter.
Carlo is behind the steering wheel, Damiano’s in the passenger seat, and I’m in the back with Angelo. Damiano glances over his shoulder and mutters, “You know how this goes, Dario. If Eden’s mother owes them money, they’ve probably handed her over to another crew who’ll make her work to pay off the debt.”
The thought had already crossed my mind, but I instantly shunned it. Having Damiano say it out loud makes a growl build in my chest.
My tone is filled with rage as I say, “Over my dead body, am I letting them use my woman as a prostitute.”
“It won’t come to that,” Angelo murmurs, his tone much calmer than I feel. “We’ll get to her in time.”
My eyes remain glued to the road ahead, and it takes way too fucking long before we see the van.
“Hold on,” Carlo mutters.
The next second he slams on the breaks as he makes a sharp turn.
All the SUVs behind us form a barricade in case the van gets past us.
I shove the door open, and as I climb out, I pull my two guns from behind my back, where they are tucked into my waistband. I raise my arms and train the barrels on the windscreen.
“Where the fuck is Eden?” I shout.
The drug dealers look stunned for a couple of seconds, then they pile out of the van.
I open fire, and I’m backed up by more shots being fired by my friends.
As one of the fuckers drops from a gunshot to the leg, I move in on him and step on his hand so he’ll let go of his gun.
The gunfire ends as abruptly as it started, and Carlo comes to haul the remaining fucker, who’s still alive, to his feet. He struggles to stand as Damiano nods for me to do my thing.
“What did you do with Eden?”
The drug dealer gives me a look filled with disrespect, which has me swinging my fist at his face.
“What did you do with my woman?” I ask again.
He spits blood out of his mouth, then mutters, “The bitch is gone.”
His words shudder through me.
“Gone as in dead, or on her way to work as a prostitute?” Damiano asks, his tone dark and impatient.
The drug dealer grins, his teeth covered in blood. “Does it matter?”
Losing his patience, Damiano shoots the man in his foot, making him collapse to the gravel.
