Page 178 of Damián

The fuck happened?

My thumb is about to press the messages button when a red-bordered emergency alert overrides the screen.

Perimeter Breach - Grid Coordinates: Sector 4.

That’s my mother’s house.

“What the—?” I pull open the app, tapping into the feed of the living room camera, and the moment the screen flickers to life, my heart stops.

My mother’s house is destroyed.

There is broken furniture all over the room, and shattered glass covering the floor. The walls are torn apart by bullet holes, and there is a trail of blood leading from the entrance straight to the back door.

No. No, no, no.

Dios mío, por favor, no.

I put on a shirt, grab my weapon, and sprint out to where I parked Chiquita.

The drive to my mother’s house is more than just a blur. The level of fear I am feeling is the exact same as what I felt the day they called me to tell me my father collapsed.

And it’s horrifying.

That day my life changed, throwing me into a pit I thought I would never crawl out of. And if I was barely able to climb back from it the first time, I can’t even begin to imagine what will happen if I lose my entire family all at once.

Come on, Damián, I tell myself, leaning Chiquita and taking a turn.

They will be okay. It will all be okay, so stop it.

I force out any thoughts of them being hurt because they do nothing but panic me, and I need to focus on the road.

Instead, I push the bike to its limit, running every single light. My grip on the handlebars is so tight my fingers turn completely numb.

When I finally reach my mother’s house, the sight makes my stomach drop to a point where I want to puke. The lawn is crawling with cops, and yellow tape sections off the entire garden.

Oh, fuck…

I jump off Chiquita, completely ignoring the sound of the bike crashing into the street rocks behind me. I run, rip the yellow tape out of my way, and head to the front door.

“Stop!” a cop shouts beside me, but I ignore him.

There is no way I will let anyone prevent me from getting to my family.

A second cop tries to block me, but I show him the back of my hand where I have the Harknett tattoo, and he halts.

“You can’t get in there!” a third cop yells, but the one who saw my tattoo gets on his way.

“He’s a Harknett.”

“Seriosuly?! I never thought I would meet one,” I hear the third cop say as I run into the house.

Inside, a group of cops is about to tell me to leave when their radios beep out loud. “Heads up, we have a Harknett among us.”

The cops look at my hand, and their faces change from suspicious to shocked.

And I usually love meeting people in the field, but this is not the time…

I spot a tall, blond man with amber eyes, a well-kept beard, and a chief badge, and I walk toward him.