Page 76 of The Villain

I’d sat in on the meeting where they’d laid out the plan. While Cian made the final decisions, he’d accepted input from his men—especially Hack and Rhys. And he knew each of his men’s strengths in a way I admired. The plan was to capture the twins and interrogate them about who ordered the hit on Cian. Everyone else in the house was expendable.

While the rest of the meeting had been spent ironing out details, I’d also learned “Hack” was just a nickname. Not exactly the most creative choice for a computer hacker. But no one had offered his real name, and I hadn’t asked.

Cian handed me a Glock 17, and I slid my fingers over the cool metal. For a moment, I remembered my old life. The one where I’d wielded a weapon like a third arm. I hadn’t touched a gun in over a year, but this one fit my hand like I’d never beenwithout it. I checked the safety, then tucked it into the holster on my belt.

The moonlight reflected in Cian’s haunting eyes as he watched me. He adjusted my holster, tightened the straps on my bulletproof vest, and even checked my shoelaces. He tilted my chin up so he could study my face, and maybe on another day, I would’ve mocked him just to see how far I could push him. But today wasn’t the day. Cian was on edge, and I needed him calm enough to concentrate. He already seemed distracted by my presence, and I didn’t want that. I almost offered to stay behind in the van with Hack. But then who would watch out for Cian? When push came to shove, I was the only one I trusted to save him over myself.

In groups of two, we filtered out into the woods surrounding the cabin. Each of us had studied the map and knew our route—even Jace, who currently walked alongside Rhys with a bounce in his step. He gave me a cocky salute right before they went out of sight behind a cluster of trees, his white teeth flashing in the moonlight.

Cian moved with nearly silent footsteps, which was impressive for a man his size. His shoulder brushed mine as we walked, and whenever we had to separate because of the terrain, we’d wordlessly return to each other’s sides.

Hack tracked our locations from the van so he’d know when to disable the cameras. There were several hidden in the trees surrounding the property, with many more attached to the house itself. I dropped to a crouch as we reached the tree line surrounding the cabin and checked the time. Everyone should’ve been at their assigned positions around the property by now, ready to breach the cabin from all its entry points—the front door, back door, and two side doors—all at once.

We waited for Hack’s confirmation. “Everyone’s in place.”

That was Cian’s cue to move in, with me right on his heels. Rhys’s large form emerged from the trees, weapon drawn as he approached the side door. Jace practically bounced behind him like an overeager bunny, twirling a knife in one hand and a gun in the other.

As soon as Cian and I reached the front door, we were met with an audible click as the lock disengaged—thanks to Hack… hacking the system. Cian glanced behind him. Our eyes met, and I nodded once. Then he pushed open the door.

Gunfire immediately greeted us from somewhere deep in the house, a clash of the muffled pops of our silencers and the deafening bangs of the Russos’ guns. Someone cried out. Another man shouted a curse. Then footsteps pounded across the floor upstairs. Bare feet. We’d caught some of them in bed.

We crept down the hallway, hugging the wall as a man burst from the door on our right and skidded barefoot into the corridor. He wore a pair of unbuttoned jeans and nothing else, and a handgun hung loosely from his hand. Cian took him out with one clean shot.

Glass shattered from somewhere in the house. Jace cackled. Rhys shouted a reprimand.

A man suddenly appeared behind us with a shotgun, and he managed to get a shot off just as I sent a bullet into his chest. His slug exploded the drywall above our heads. I sputtered a cough through the dust as a body slammed into me from the side. Cian shouted, but I was already handling it. I pulled a knife from my belt and drove it into the next man’s neck before yanking it free. Blood arced in the air, and I knew I’d hit his jugular. He fell onto his back, clutching his throat. He’d bleed out soon, but I put a bullet in him anyway for good measure.

Cian squeezed off another two rounds. The only answer was the gurgling gasp of a man who’d been shot somewhere vital. As we entered the massive two-story living room, complete with agiant chandelier and floor-to-ceiling windows, we were met with chaos.

Men shot at us from the second-floor balcony, and Cian dove behind a couch for cover as a bullet pinged off the hardwood floor near his boot. Jace, who’d come from who fucking knew where, raced up the stairs with his gun already drawn and firing. A man stumbled back from the force of the bullet and flipped over the railing, dropping to the ground with a sickening thud.

Bullets flew in every direction, and the smell of gun smoke filled my nostrils. Adrenaline flooded my bloodstream, and I fought to keep my hands from shaking as I lifted my gun and fired at the last man on the balcony. I wasn’t sure if my bullet or Jace’s had been the one to end him, but the man stumbled into the wall behind him and dropped, leaving a streak of blood behind.

Cian slammed another magazine into his gun. “Where the fuck are the Russos?”

“Second floor clear!” Jace called over the balcony railing. A dark smear of blood stained his cheek.

“First floor clear,” Tyson said as he emerged from a hallway, clutching his bloody left arm.

Cian took a step toward him. “You all right?”

“Knife,” Tyson grunted. “I’ll be fine.”

What felt like a small earthquake rumbled beneath our feet. “Garage door!” Hack hollered through our earpieces.

Our men were already stationed outside guarding the garage, and as we raced out the door, an engine roared to life. A Range Rover burst through the partially open garage door, tearing the bottom section clean off and sending debris flying across the yard.

“That has to be them!” Cian yelled. “Shoot the tires!”

But this was a Range Rover, not some tiny Kia. It was clear the Russos knew this was it—do or die. If they made it to themain road, we were fucked. Hack was in no position to chase them alone, and we had to run a mile back to where we’d parked.

Bullets pinged off the Range Rover as the driver spun out, and Cian took off running to block their escape. The passenger side window lowered just as the tires gained traction on the gravel driveway. A hand emerged holding a SIG Sauer. Pointed directly at Cian.

My heart lodged in my throat. From somewhere in the yard, Jace wrenched out an anguished cry. “Cian!”

I stepped directly in front of the vehicle barreling down the driveway. Paul Russo was behind the wheel, and when he turned forward again, our eyes met. His lips curled back into a snarl as he accelerated.

“Devlin!” Cian roared.