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You are a Saint James, and a Saint James never gives up, a voice in the back of my mind reminds me.
I tug at the ropes above my head, barely holding in the scream of agony shooting down my arms. Blood drips from the cuts on my wrists, but I don’t stop, not even for a moment.
Wynter screams at the top of her lungs. “Help! Someone help us!” The terror in her voice causes a pain in my chest to slice through me, but I can’t allow myself to focus on anything I’m feeling. Instead, I lean into the adrenaline, using it to give me the strength I need to not fall apart.
If that bitch thinks she can take out the whole Chicago Mafia in one swoop, she has another thing coming, and I can’t wait to see the look in her eye when she realizes she’s made the biggest mistake of her life by underestimating us.
64
Elijah
Ihaven’t stopped pacing since we arrived at the estate an hour ago. I can’t, because if I do, the reality that my entire world is missing might sink in, and I’ll have no control over my own actions if that happens. I’ll burn this entire city to the ground if it means getting Snow back.
Every person we trust sits in Storm’s office, and despite it being a combination of Russo and Saint James men, it isn’t enough to make any impact if we have to go to war to get our women back.
I should have let Storm send Snow to another country, at least she would have been safe there. If I allow myself to dwell on the decisions that brought us to this moment, I’ll lose my fucking mind, and right now that could mean the difference between my woman living and dying.
“The trackers?” Storm asks Everett for the tenth time in the last twenty minutes.
Out of all of us, Everett is the calmest. I’m not sure if it’s because he knows he’s the only one who can find them if we have to lean on technology, or if his fear has numbed him to the point of being placated. “Like I told you the last time you asked, I will tell you the moment I get the sniff of a signal,” he mutters, typing something on the laptop in front of him.
Storm glares at his best friend but leans back in his chair without a word. Tension radiates off him, his jaw so tight it ticks under the pressure.
“We can’t just sit on our hands and wait for the trackers to turn back on. We should be out on the streets. We should be tearing this city apart,” Rayne growls. He’s been quiet since we all arrived, silently holding Emerson in his lap. Snow and Wynter being missing it too close to when Angelo took her, he needs to remind himself she’s safe, even if his sisters are both in danger.
“Spreading out across the city with limited numbers would only make us easier to pick off,” I remind him. We’ve been over this. If I thought it would make a difference, I would be going door to door and tearing anyone who gets in my way apart. But it wouldn’t help. If anything, it would hinder us, and that’s a fact Tommy reminded us of when we were suiting up for battle.
I never thought he would be the levelheaded one, but these situations either bring out the best, or the worst in a person.
“I don’t fucking care. We’re too far away from the city. We should have met at the penthouse,” Rayne grumbles.
“There’s no guarantee they’re in the city,” Storm says.
“They could be anywhere,” I mumble and barely swallow down the bile that rises as the words slip from my lips. It’s been two hours. Two hours since we lost connection with them. Two hours since their trackers registered. Two hours since the possibility of losing my entire life began to seep in.
“Surely there’s something else we could be doing,” Rayne mutters.
“There isn’t,” Storm snaps. “We’ve looked under every rock, we’ve leaned on every single contact we all have, and we have no fucking idea who we’re up against, let alone where the hell they would take Wynter and Snow. Believe me, if there wasanythingI thought would help us find them, we would be out there doing it right now. But there isn’t, so we have to wait for the trackers to—”
“They’re back,” Everett yells, scooping up the laptop and heading for the door.
“Where are they?” I ask, falling into stride beside him, touching the guns tucked into my waistband. I’m itching for a kill, craving the bloodshed. I need to make someone pay for the pain they’ve caused my woman.
“The church.”
I stop dead in my tracks. “As in the church they attacked on our wedding day?”
Everett doesn’t respond, instead he nods without looking back. The man is on a mission to bring his fiancé home, and he’s going to do it with or without our help.
I turn back to the group of men standing behind me, including the men who became my brothers the day I married Snow and release a breath. “Let’s bring them home.”
A few minutes later, we’re speeding down the driveway in a convoy. We’re taking everyone we trust with us. The businesses and other assets can be guarded by those who may betray us, but we’re not willing to risk the lives of Snow and Wynter.
Rayne’s in the driver’s seat, pushing the large black SUV to its limits as he swerves from the driveway to the road and puts his foot down. Storm is beside him, typing furiously on his phone with his brows furrowed. Everett is next to me in the back seat flicking through camera angles to try to get a picture of what we’re going into. If we can avoid going in blind, we have the best chance of bringing them home, but we’ll go in regardless. We’ll risk everything to bring them home.
“Everett?” Storm turns in his seat just as Rayne pulls onto the highway and pushes the speed to the limit.
There isn’t a cop in this city brave enough to pull a Saint James over for speeding, especially considering the amount of money they donate to the department each year.
