It’s buried beneath a heavy layer of disappointment. Disappointment that the fantasy I let myself believe—just for a moment, but a moment that might cost me everything—has now shattered in my hands like sugar glass.
There's another explosion further down the hallway. I leave my deluded thoughts behind and sprint towards the sound.
My men are pouring into the fight from all sides. I see Stefan leading a group in from the ballroom. Bullets ricochet off the walls like metal death.
"Get back, Adrik," Stefan yells. "We'll take the front line!"
I wave him off and slide into step next to him.
"Goddamn you," he growls. "We can't lose the don to this half-assed bullshit."
"I'm not don yet, remember?"
Stefan fires at a shattered window as another man in the same blacked-out gear tries to step through the frame. The bullet hits him square in the face and he tumbles backward with a groan.
"You're as good as don and you know it," he snaps. "We can't lose you."
A group of men charge down a hallway to the right just as we cross in front of the kitchen. Our unit spins, shifting into two lines with the first line on their knees, and fires. The invaders fall away, only clipping one of my men in the shoulder, but not fast enough.
I turn to Stefan and shove him down the hall. "Then shut the fuck up and keep shooting so we can both survive."
The more men we take down, the more obvious it becomes that this is a sanctioned Volandri mafia attack. There are too many men for it to be a rogue faction.
The motherfuckers really think they can take what’s mine.
They’ve got a lesson to learn.
As we move down the hallway towards the front entrance, we shift from fighting stragglers and lone gunmen to facing off with trained squads.
A few of my men fall back as they're injured and new soldiers move to replace them. But I already know we are outnumbered, outmaneuvered.
"How many are outside?" I ask Stefan after we momentarily duck behind a wall for cover and to catch our breath. "Do we have men fighting in the gardens?"
Stefan grabs his phone and curses. "I sent a group around the side of the house, but I don't have an update. And the cameras are down. Someone shot them out."
"How the fuck did they know where our cameras are?" I snarl.
And what else do they know about the compound?
Will they be able to find the dungeon?
The thought shouldn't bother me. Emery is no doubt working with the invaders. If the Volandri men make it down there, it will be a happy fucking reunion.
But what if she isn't a traitor?
What if they kill her?
I shove the thought aside as bullets rain down on our hiding place. Stefan throws himself in front of me, trying to shield me, but I push him off.
"Just return fire," I bark. "You aren't my goddamn bodyguard."
He’s reluctant, but he listens and ducks across the hallway to get a better line of sight.
The compound is chaos. The alarms are still blaring, the air is thick with smoke, and I can hear glass shattering in every direction.
The Volandris are going to pay for destroying my house. I just have to get them off the property first.
A black-clad figure breaks away from the Volandri lines and charges forward, heading straight for Stefan.
He doesn’t even see me coming.
I step out from behind the wall and take aim. My first shot hits the man in the shoulder, sending him spinning back. The second he hits the floor, I shoot him again. This time in the stomach. A slow death awaits the poor son of a bitch.
“Are you trying to piss me off?” Stefan grumbles. “I had him.”
The man groans on the floor, eyes wide with panic as blood gushes out of him.
“No, I did.” I punctuate the point with one final shot to the man’s head.
We’re about to keep moving when I hear static. I bend down and find a walkie talkie on the man’s hip.
“… east corner. Waters approaching, hold the line,” a voice barks.
Stefan frowns. “Water is approaching? What the fuck does that mean?”
My hand tightens around the radio, my knuckles turning white with tension. Before I shatter the thing, I shove it in my pocket.
“Not ‘water,’” I correct. “Waters. Malcolm fucking Waters is here.”
Suddenly, there’s another explosion. This time, it’s close. The floor rocks dangerously under our feet and the wall behind Stefan cracks near the ceiling.
“Then let’s give him a warm welcome,” Stefan says, reloading.
I pop a new clip into my gun and we forge on.
As we get closer to the entryway, there are fewer Volandri fighters, but I also don’t see as many of my own men.
Neither seems like a good sign.
Stefan can sense it, too. He’s on high alert as we move, shifting subconsciously in front of me, still trying to shield me even though I’ve ordered him not to.
It’s one of the reasons I made Stefan my second—he’s loyal to a damn fault.
A few men appear as we move, and we take them out. It’s easy because they almost seem surprised to see us. As if we’re the invaders, not them.
“Something is wrong,” Stefan says, slowing his pace. “There should be more men here. Ours or theirs. And I should have word on what’s going on outside. Something isn’t right.”
Then a figure steps forward out of the smoke.
Stefan and I both raise our guns instinctively. My finger is poised on the trigger, ready to pull.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a raspy, haunted, sickeningly familiar voice says. “Unless you’re ready to bury your bride yet again.”
I freeze.
The smoke seems to dissipate in slow motion, parting like curtains as he walks towards me… holding her.
Emery’s face is dirty. There’s a bruise on the right side of her face and tear tracks down her cheeks.
Also, there’s a knife to her neck.
“Don’t shoot,” I snarl at Stefan. “Don’t fucking shoot.”
A smoky laugh echoes off the marble floors. “Nice to know she’s as good of a bargaining chip as I’d hoped for.”
The last bit of smoke clears. I can finally see his scarred, pale face clearly. The same face I’ve seen at least once a week in the gloomy dungeons beneath my home for the last ten years.
Pietro Volandri.
He presses Emery back against his chest and holds the small knife more firmly against her neck. I can see now that it isn’t a knife at all—it’s the letter opener Emery stabbed me with.
I should have thrown the stupid thing away, but I wanted to make a point. I wanted to leave it on the table and show her that nothing she does to resist me matters.
I should’ve known that hubris would come back to haunt me.
“Let her go,” I snarl.
Pietro smiles, showing off his yellowed teeth, and shakes his head. “No, I don’t think I will. This little angel said she’d set me free. She still has a job to do.”