Sinful Heir (The Heirs 6)

My heartbeat speeds up as the numbers climb to our floor. When the doors slide open, my eyes instantly take in every single thing as I step inside. Seeing the concierge lying between the living room and kitchen, with a gunshot to his head, I shout, “Hana!” I run up the stairs, two at a time, to the second floor. “Hana!”

Stalking down the hallway, a glimpse of red catches my eyes. Stopping dead in my tracks, I take a step back, and then my gaze locks on the bloody smear against the white wall.

Breaths rush from my lungs as I dart forward into the bedroom. My heart hammers in my chest as I take in the tousled covers and the broken frame and shattered glass next to the bed.

My fingers tighten around the gun as I drop to my knees.

My Hana.

My light.

She’s been taken.

Immense pain quakes through my body as if someone has torn my soul in half. My body shudders as I push myself up to my feet. My skin crawls, and rage builds inside me until it’s bitter on the back of my tongue.

My breaths grow harsh, my heart slowing to a deadly beat. The gorge inside my darkest depths rips wide open, and a growl builds in my chest as the hellish mass rears to its full height.

“Fuck,” I hear Alexei growl behind me. “Cameras.”

His voice snaps me back to the moment, and I turn around to follow him to the study. Alexei and Demitri installed the cameras. Only the three of us know about them.

Alexei presses the button, and the bookcase slides back. He rewinds the footage, and I get flashes of the hell that broke loose in the penthouse.

Demitri comes to stand next to me. “The penthouse is clear.”

I nod, and when Alexei presses play, my eyes instantly lock on Hana, where she’s walking to the bedroom. I watch as she places a framed photo of us next to the bed, and then she tilts her head, staring at it. A soft smile plays around her lips, and I drink in the sight of her.

“There.” Alexei points at the screen showing the entrance and living room. Four men come in, and the concierge is shoved forward before one of the men shoots him in the back of the head.

They used silencers.

My gaze darts between all the cameras, and my soul roars for Hana to hide, to run, to fucking disappear out of the bedroom. Unaware of what’s coming for her, she adjusts the frame slightly then stands back again to look at it.

My fucking heart stops as I watch them come up behind her. Hana glances over her shoulder, and shock bleeds over her beautiful features. I expect her to run, but instead, she turns to face them. “He’ll kill you for this,” she whispers. I can hear the fear quivering in her voice.

God. My light.

One of the men takes a step forward, an arrogant smirk tugging at his lips. I wait for him to lunge at Hana, but instead, she’s the one to attack.

Gutted, I watch as the other half of my soul turns into a feral animal. She only manages to get two punches in before his arms lock around her. Hana screams, the sound sharp and filled with panic, as he easily lifts her off the floor. When he turns, she kicks out, sending the frame shattering on the floor. She manages to squirm out of his hold and darts away, scrambling over the bed.

They all move forward, and when they corner her, Hana’s fist delivers a throat punch to the nearest guy. For a sliver of a second, I’m filled with pride as she takes on four men, each one twice her size. The one who looks like the leader punches her, and it sends a wave of rage flooding my veins. My eyes lock on his face, and I imprint the image in my mind.

I’m going to fucking rip his heart out.

They overwhelm Hana, tearing screams from her. As they carry her out of the room, my eyes move to the next screen, and seeing Hana thrashing makes me clench my jaw harder. Again she wiggles free, only to have her head slammed against the wall by one of the men. I memorize his face. Every. Fucking. Feature.

Hana slumps to the ground, and I hear her groan, “Tristan.”

Pain sears my heart until it’s nothing but a pile of smoldering ash. My top lip twitches as they carry her out of the penthouse.

“Albanians,” Demitri mutters. “Probably Lleshi Prifti’s men.”

“Fuck,” Alexei growls. He rewinds the footage and pauses on the image of the men entering the penthouse. He gestures at the men's forearms that all have an L tattooed on their right arms and a P on the left. “Definitely his men. They all have the same tattoos.”