Our car led Rhett’s little convoy all the way from Columbus to the outskirts of Pittsburgh, where Noretto’s mansion hides in dense woodland.
After weeks at Lakeside, the scent of wet leaves, pine needles, and wind whooshing high in the trees feels familiar. Calming… though calm is not the correct word to describe me while I hide behind the tree line with Broadway, Apollo, and two of Rhett’s goons. He sent more, but curiously, three miles after we all stopped for gas, their car’s onboard electronics threw every error imaginable.
What a coincidence.
Ryder did a great job of planting a small device which he then remotely activated, tampering with the car’s electronic systems. He went on for half an hour, explaining how the small, modified device works, but he lost me at OBD-II port.
I love my cars, but my mechanical knowledge doesn’t extend to motherboards and remotely activated wire fryers.
Whatever his techy tech did, it left five other goons grounded a few miles back, so we only need to worry about these three and their escape driver. He’s about a mile away, ready to bust through the iron gate and lift us out the moment we find Hailey.
That’s the official plan. We go in, extract my girl, kill those standing in the way, then head to Rhett’s safe house. He made it crystal fucking clear during his briefing earlier that Apollo’s responsible for Hailey. He calls the shots and keeps his eyes on her at all times until we arrive in Cleveland, which means she’s joining his team for our escape.
Over my dead body will I let that happen.
If Rhett gets Hailey, he’ll force the information from the depths of her mind by any means necessary. The ground’s slipping from under his feet with every passing hour. News spreads among the likes of us fast. Rhett’s a hot topic these days, so more and more rivals are getting word about Alex.
“We’re heading your way,” Koby’s voice rings loud and clear through my earpiece.
Last night, after hours spent hacking into Noretto’s surveillance system, Ryder and Jackson concluded the feed must be wired to an offline server, making remote hacking impossible.
After much digging, they found the company dealing with Blaze’s security and located the server room a few miles from the mansion. Then, in Jackson’s words, “fucking child’s play.”
I wouldn’t call it that considering Koby and Ryder had to go into the physical server room and wire it up to give us remote access: without triggering any security alerts during both the breaking-and-entering part and while interacting with the system remotely.
Since I’m not a tech whizz, I left that part of the plan in Ryder’s capable hands. Koby’s driving him. Broadway’s by my side, hiding in the shadows after throwing a few raw, sleeping-pill-spiked steaks over the fence to sedate the two huge Rottweilers guarding the perimeter.
Apollo’s goon suggested bullets between the dogs’ eyes.
He’s fucking lucky I can’t kill him or he’d be bleeding out on the damp forest floor right now.
The mansion stands in the distance, unusually dark. If I didn’t know better, I’d think it’s a trap. I’ve been a guest here twice over the past four years whenever Dante had a meeting with Blaze Noretto. They’re not allies. They don’t work together or socialize, but Dante’s shipment channel between the US and Europe was something Noretto needed for his dealings.
Dante indulged him until the fucker turned to human trafficking a few months ago.
Both times I’ve been here the place has been buzzing, full of people, women, drugs, music… Blaze is young. At twenty-three he’s loud, ostentatious, and loves to party, which makes him downright dumb sometimes. He took over after Noretto Sr. was shot dead by none other than Rhett Willard as a settlement of debt.
Talk about twisted bonds.
The fact Blaze is a party boy with no moral compass works in our favor tonight. He’s out, and so are most of his men. The last Saturday of the month is reserved for Blaze’s underground auction, selling the girls he’s smuggled into America to brothel owners.
Though I hear he’s been allowing private buyers lately.
Broadway’s voice breaks the tense silence. “They’ve left her lightly covered. Eight guards, by my count.” He lowers his binoculars, eyes sharp. “Three at the main door, two on the rounds, and three upstairs on the left.”
“There’ll be more inside,” Apollo says, stopping by my side. “After all the trouble he went through to get her, Blaze wouldn’t leave her with eight men.”
“Agreed. That’d be fucking childish.”
Her memoriesare too precious.
She’s too fucking precious to leave with minimal security. Soon enough, she’ll be on the radar of every boss my father wronged—if she isn’t already—even though there’s no concrete confirmation Hailey knows where Alex hid the evidence.
All Rhett said was “I have reasons to believe…”
I grip my gun tighter, every second stretching into eternity. It doesn’t matter how much Hailey knows. She’s got a big red X on her back.
I need to get her out and hide her.
“Once we’re seen, they’ll alert Blaze,” Apollo adds.
“Yeah, I know.” But I don’t fucking care.
“The auction isn’t far from here. We’ll have a five-minute window at best before this place is crowding with Noretto’s men.” Broadway pulls his Glock out, checking—for the third time already—that his clip is full. “We should wait for Koby and Ryder. We could use the backup, Carter.”
“Damn right you should wait for us,” Koby pipes in over the comms.
“You got eyes on this place yet?” I ask, my hands tingling. “Can you see Hailey?”
“Not yet. Ryder’s pulling up all the different feeds.”
“I’d be doing it faster if you could take a corner properly,” Ryder’s voice cuts in.
“Quit whining,” Koby retorts. “We’re only fifteen minutes out, Carter—as long as he doesn’t make me go any slower than I already am. Wait.”
“Your men are right,” Apollo says. “My men may still be trekking through the forest but they won’t be long.”
All the more reason to get a move on.
“Listen to him,” Ryder says, though it’s just for show.
Apollo and his men can hear their every word, so we’re pulling the wool over their eyes. We have a plan that’s not meant for their ears.
“He won’t wait,” Koby clips, feigning annoyance.
“No, I won’t,” I admit. “We don’t have time to lose.”
I doubt I’d wait even if Rhett’s men weren’t catching us up.
I need Hailey back right fucking now. It’s been over a week. Every ticking second is one more she has to endure, trapped in this hellhole, surrounded by scum who willingly sell girls like her into sex slavery.
Chills slither down my spine, my heart rhythm speeding up. I don’t want to think about how scared she must be or what she’s been through.
I can’t think about it. Not now. Not when my head needs to be in the game if we’re going to leave that house alive.
Reading the determination in my eyes, Broadway sighs, then attaches his silencer. “Looks like we’re going in,” he tells the guys, and nudges me to screw my silencer on. “The longer we don’t draw attention to ourselves, the higher the chance we’ll get out before Noretto’s goons from the auction show up.”
“Fuck!” Koby slams his hand against the wheel, making the Range Rover beep, a loud blast that vibrates my earpiece. “At least stay on the line. Ryder will guide you through the place, so you don’t get spotted.”
“They’ll get spotted long before they get near the door,” Ryder muses. “Blaze has this placed wired through and through. Every inch is under surveillance. Motion detectors, panic buttons, cameras scanning both outside and inside.”
“Find Hailey,” I order, tugging the straps of my bulletproof vest, making sure it sits where it should as I look over my shoulder. “Let’s get this done.”
Apollo juts his chin at the two men with him. I didn’t bother asking their names. If things go according to plan, their obituaries will be all that’s left of them.
I take us around the back of the sprawling mansion, over the tall, chain-link fence, then through the shadows until we have no choice but to step into the lights illuminating the pool area.
Broadway stalks the unsuspecting guard, a predator on the hunt. His muscles tighten as he lunges forward, making quick work of snapping the guard’s neck in one swift move.
I tackle another. Pressing the barrel of my gun under his chin, I pull the trigger. He lets out a whine, but that sound, coupled with the bullet tearing through his brain, is much quieter than the thud of his body hitting the tiles by the pool’s edge.
Blood seeps from both entry and exit wounds, dripping into the calm water. The lights illuminate the expanding red tendrils, turning the pool into a canvas of carnage.
It’s beautiful.
In a twisted, deranged way, it’s fucking breathtaking.
Rhett’s trio stalks after us, guns raised, eyes scanning the windows. Neither one notices the third guard until a bullet whizzes by my head. Either they didn’t notice, or they chose not to… I have a feeling Rhett wants me out of the picture by the end of the night.
Another body thuds behind me. Broadway glares from across the pool, his gun drawn.
“Focus!” he mouths.
I glance over my shoulder at the gaping hole between the man’s eyes.
“That was close,” Ryder comments. “Pull your shit together, Boss. I’ve got eyes on your girl, she’s in one piece.”
An ecstasy of relief rattles through me, sharpening my instincts like a picture regaining focus. It’s so fucking potent my knees threaten to fold.
“Where is she?” I ask, every instinct screaming to break off the tight leash, fuck caution, and run to her.
“Upstairs. You’ve triggered the motion detectors, so fun’s heading your way. Two incoming on your twelve o’clock.”
A curt nod is my only acknowledgment. Apollo and I retreat into the shadows as two guards step out of the building, guns drawn, eyes searching the backyard. Before either spot us behind the huge pillars supporting the balcony, they’re down, a bullet each.
“Ten more inside,” Ryder says over the distinct, rapid click of keyboard keys. “Fifteen total…” he adds in a dubious tone. “Not the security I’d expect Blaze to install for Hailey.”
Him and me both.
“The rest are probably on their way,” Apollo chimes in, plastering himself by the window.
As if to confirm it, a shrilling alarm cuts the tense silence like a scalpel, setting my nerves on edge.
“Move, Boss,” Broadway urges, jutting his chin toward the sliding doors. “Upstairs. I’ve got you covered.”
I enter the house, gun drawn, every step calculated as I tear through the mansion.
“Main door,” Apollo tells his two goons, sending them off to the left—a surprise for Blaze’s men once they begin to amass in fucking throngs.
They nod, rushing away, their steps barely audible.
“Not that staircase, Boss,” Ryder clips in my ear. “Take the left corridor.” He keeps talking, his sharp commands leading us through the maze. “Turn right here, you want the back stairs.”
It’s a fucking godsend that he hacked the surveillance system, or it’d take me three times as long to find my way.
The place is enormous. A modern castle with tall ceilings. The motion lights flicker low on the walls, illuminating the rooms with every step I take.
I keep moving, front and center, while Broadway stays back with Apollo, covering the rear. Spotting a shiver of movement, I aim and shoot, shattering the reflection of Apollo’s combat-ready posture in a floor-to-ceiling mirror adorning the wall.
“Where the fuck is everyone?” Broadway hisses when we emerge out of a second hallway, and no one’s tried shooting at us.
“Upstairs,” I say, hearing muffled, yelled orders from above. “They’re grouping by Hailey’s door.”
“That’s right,” Ryder confirms. “Still just ten.”
“Not for much longer,” Koby pipes in. “I bet the place will be crowding with Blaze’s men inside five minutes.”
I inhale deeply, pushing forward, eyes darting left and right for any sign of movement as we enter a foyer.
I’ve retrieved kidnapped people while looking death straight in the eye, surrounded or trapped, many times before but I’ve never been this scared.
Now it’s Hailey’s life on the line, cold hands grip my throat shattering my composure. There’s no room for error. Staying focused while my pulse pounds my ears and my heart lurches into my throat takes immense effort.
Shaking off the stiffness, I start climbing upstairs.
A guard emerges from the hallway above, quick to take aim. I’m quicker. A shot rings out—his… missed. Mine’s nothing but a hiss. I’ve still got the silencer on, but his dead body rolling down the stairs echoes through the mansion.
With that distinct sound, the house becomes a warzone.
I take a deep, centering breath as I lose the silencer. There’s no point keeping quiet now. They know we’re inside.
Besides, the sound of my gun firing jolts me with the kind of invincibility I need. Broadway and I bolt the rest of the way up and plaster ourselves to the walls flanking the wide hallway.
Blaze’s men scramble, their shouts echoing through the house. Footsteps thunder closer.
And finally, bullets rain down on us in fucking clouds.
They ricochet off the walls, the floor, the gilded railings…
“I stall, you kill,” I yell at Broadway when he peeks around the corner and a bullet narrowly misses his head.
Dropping to one knee, I aim and shoot, aim and shoot, targeting their legs. Kneecaps shatter, throwing the goons off balance. Broadway takes the short window I’ve provided, picking them off one by one. Bullets find their marks, head, neck, head, neck. Even Apollo joins the fun, emptying his clip in seconds.
It takes a minute, maybe two, before the corridor is littered with lifeless bodies, blood staining the floor and walls.
“Looks like you’re all clear,” Ryder says, the tapping in the background telling me he’s checking the feeds.
“We need to move.” Broadway nudges my shoulder, reloading his gun. “Ryder, where—”
He falls silent when a muffled whimper perks my ears. I sprint toward that sound, not waiting for confirmation it’s Hailey. I know it’s her. A choked-back sob follows, stopping me in my tracks outside one of the many rooms lining the corridor.
Adrenaline overpowers my system as I brace against the wall opposite, and lunge forward, the sole of my shoe connecting with the hardwood.
The door flies open, banging against the wall and—
There she is… hiding in the corner by a king-sized bed, wild eyes staring right at me. She’s wearing gray sweatpants and a matching hoodie, her feet bare, skin ghastly pale.
Recognition twists her features and her whimpers hiccup when I come closer. Instead of flinging herself into my arms, she jerks away, trying to melt with the wall.
She frantically scrutinizes my face, the blood spattering my shirt, until she stops on the gun glistening in my palm. Her breath visibly hiccups, cheeks pale further, and she drops to the floor, wrapping her arms around her head as if that’ll make her invisible.
“Hailey.” I let go of the gun, crouching down and reaching out to touch her. “It’s me, pretty girl. I’m here.”
She peeks a little. Then a little more, shaking all over as she zeroes in on my face and her shoulders slump. “Nash…” she mouths.
I cup her face, swiping my thumbs under her eyes. “I’m here now. I’ll get you out.”
“You came,” she utters, her voice weak. She trembles harder, tears carving narrow paths down her cheeks.
Tears of relief.
It’s so fucking clear. Hope sprouts inside her, sending my pulse into a gallop.
“Of course I came. I’ll always come for you. Always.” Craving a sliver of reassurance, a sliver of connection, I lean in, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Are you hurt?”
She shakes her head, lips parting, but instead of words, faint sobs fill the space between us.
“Shh, it’s okay. I’m here,” I chant, twining my arms beneath hers to help her up. “I’ll get you out, baby. Stay close to me.”
Yanking my bulletproof vest off, I wrap it around her, securing the straps, then snatch my gun off the floor.
“We should get moving” Broadway says from where he stands guard at the door, gun drawn.
“Yep. Get out of there. You’ve got company,” Koby adds in my ear. “We’re eight minutes away.”
The alarm dies, replaced swiftly by the sound of car tires kicking up gravel outside.
“Fuck,” Broadway clips, peeking out into the hallway, his shoulders squared back. “How many?”
“Three cars, twelve men. I expect more are coming.”
The sound of the main doors hammering against the walls shakes the very foundation of the mansion. It gets worse when the first volley of bullets erupts downstairs. Either they’re firing warning shots, or shooting blind, hoping for a lucky hit.
My instincts kick in. All-consuming determination annihilates the fear that’s controlled me since I lost Hailey. I grip her in the middle, yank her up then behind me. My left arm twists to hold her flush against my back, the gun in my right hand.
“Stay with me, Hailey. Don’t run. Just follow my lead.”
She shakes like a leaf but grasps a handful of my shirt, giving me a small nod, so pale she doesn’t look far off fainting.
Broadway leaps forward, following Ryder’s instructions, and pulls the trigger as he turns left. Once, twice, three times.
Bodies drop, thudding against the wooden floor, the sound followed by aimless gunshots: death-twitches pulling triggers.
The huge crystal chandelier above shatters, showering the landing with glittering shards. I instinctively grip Hailey’s middle, sweep her off her bare feet, and carry her over to where she won’t cut them.
“The staircase and landing are clear,” Ryder tells us. “Get downstairs. You’re sitting ducks up there.”
We rush after Broadway, following his lead. Hailey stays close, reacting so fast we almost move as one, but as we reach the stairs, a gun aimed for my head appears at the bottom.
My world slows to a crawl. The next second is a fucking blur.
A gunshot rings out.
Hailey screams.
Apollo rounds the corner, shoving us out of the way a second before the bullet hits the wall.
At the bottom of the stairs, the shooter falls, two holes marking his head courtesy of Broadway’s Glock.
He’s still aiming the smoking barrel ahead, waiting for another target. “Saved your ass too many times to count.” He smirks at me over his shoulder, but the humor’s surface-level at best. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “Pull it together.”
More car engines growl outside. Headlights cut through the mansion windows, doors slam like whipcracks, and hastened footsteps crunch on the gravel. Reinforcements pour inside, yelling commands, and checking the first wave for survivors.
We dash downstairs, two steps at a time.
I yank Hailey back when she gets ahead, and we duck together as a flurry of bullets zips overhead.
“Stay close,” I hiss, tucking her behind me when three goons appear, firing bullet after bullet.
Broadway helps quickly, taking out a guy on the left while two pulls of my trigger deal with the others.
Ryder helps us along while Koby swears in the background whenever we get surrounded, clearly unhappy he’s missing the fun. The engine thunders in the background, growing louder in time with Koby’s fucks.
“Left, Boss,” Ryder says.
I follow his barked instruction, taking Hailey with me.
“Four on your right,” he adds.
More bullets come. A staccato rhythm punctuated by Noretto’s pawns scrambling to gain the upper hand.
“Fuck! Carter, on your right!” Koby’s voice bleeds in my ear.
“Focus on the damn road, Koby,” Ryder snaps.
If I had time, I’d chuckle, but as Koby pointed out, there’s a man on the right sending three bullets my way.
I let Hailey slide under my outstretched arm, out of the way, while I aim and fire. She briefly clings to my legs when I pivot, killing a fucker taking a shot at Broadway. It’d would’ve been nice if Ryder saw that one coming.
“She stays here!” someone yells a second later.
Hailey’s safely back behind me.
“If you want to get out of here alive, give me the girl!”
Wishful thinking.
I doubt he imagined those would be his last words, but Apollo’s bullet hits him square in the throat. The guy falls in cinematic slow motion, his face contorted in shock.
I bet he thought we’d negotiate… his mistake.
The calm lasts three seconds. Two more men take the dead guy’s place, and I tuck Hailey to my left, using my body as a shield in case either of them even thinks about taking a shot.
Bullets follow bullets.
Bodies thud all around, littering the parqueted floors like oversized, blood-smeared confetti. We’re barely moving. I count five more dead at my hand, another however-many at Broadway’s and Apollo’s, but Blaze’s men keep coming. For every one we kill, two new threats materialize.
“Behind you, Boss,” Ryder says, keeping a cool, level tone.
I spin round, shooting the approaching man.
“We’re four minutes out. Stay alive!” Koby booms, the squeal of tires telling me he’s drifting his way over here.
Hailey’s breath is hot against my neck, her fingers sinking into my side. She’s close, so close I feel the rapid thrum of her heart…
Nothing has ever felt as reassuring.
I curl my fingers tightly around the gun, my other hand bunching the fabric of Hailey’s hoodie.
She’s so fucking detached I don’t dare let go.
“Where’s Hank?” Apollo asks when one of his men joins us a few minutes later.
“Dead.”
That’s one problem solved without my involvement.
Apollo doesn’t falter, barking out an order that gets lost in the surrounding chaos. We’re getting closer to where Koby and Ryder are supposed to pick us up. The rest of Rhett’s goons might make it through the forest at any minute so we’re running out of time.
I reload my gun while whisking Hailey behind me. We move fast, but it feels smooth, almost rehearsed, like a twisted, gory tango. I lead, moving her to my left, then sliding her under my right arm, keeping her away from the line of fire.
The contrast between the power charging through me and her delicate body twirling around me however I decide is sharp.
I spin her again, then draw her back and tuck her behind me, all the while pulling the trigger, aiming my gun so fast it’s almost like I’m playing a fucking video game on cheat codes.
I don’t miss. I can’t miss. The stakes are too high.
Each bullet finds its mark. A man to the left—down. Two to the right—dead. They come from all directions, aiming, missing, dying… And I’m the maestro leading a deadly orchestra.
I control the rhythm.
My crippling fear disintegrated the moment I got my hands on Hailey. She’s here. Alive. She’s with me and I’mkeeping her safe. She follows my lead, despite those gorgeous blues I’ve missed so much brimming with fear. She gasps whenever a bullet flies past too close for comfort, but she stays close, reacting to my faintest cues.
I tug, she sinks, I pull, she turns.
“Left hallway!” Broadway shouts, his gunshots a rhythmic backdrop to my own.
Hailey stumbles, letting out a small yelp and my hands shoot out, snapping around her waist. I mold her into my chest, starved for her, drunk on the emotions she ignites.
“Easy, there,” I whisper in her ear. “Deep breaths.” I take a second to inhale in sync with her.
She’s cold to the touch, trembling all over, but she nods along, determination flooding her features.
“Good girl. You’re doing so fucking good. Just a little longer. We’re almost out of here.”
Her lips part but no words come.
We’re on the move again. She’s scared, her heart beats so hard it resonates against me every time she nuzzles into me, but she’s not stalling. She’s not breaking down. She’s not covering her head with both hands to pretend she’s invisible.
She moves with me, follows my lead.
We burst into a large sitting room. It’s closed off, private with only one exit. We’re trapped, but at the same time, there’s only one narrow point of entry, which gives our guns a tactical advantage.
Taking a stance on the far side with Hailey behind me, I shoot everyone who peeks their head through the doorway. Broadway picks up those I don’t kill on the spot while Apollo’s barking instructions into his phone—summoning the escape driver. His last remaining goon slides down the wall, clutching his stomach, hands red with fresh blood.
I don’t spare him more than a second of my attention, but that second is too fucking long.
One of Blaze’s personal bodyguards—Terrence, I think—bursts in, taking cover behind another couch. With a cold, detached look crossing his ugly face, he takes aim.
I don’t pause to wonder whether it’s me or Hailey he’s targeting. My instinct kicks in, my arm launching out like an arrow to shield her and I cover her with my body.
The bullet tears into my shoulder.
The searing pain barely registers as I twist, returning fire. So does Broadway and so does Apollo… too many bullets for one man to dodge. Terrence falls, sharing the same fate Blaze’s other bodyguard did upstairs, his face like Swiss cheese.
“Stay down!” I tell Hailey.
She complies, pooling at my feet, sheltered by a sprawling mid-century couch.
“More incoming!” Broadway warns, reloading his gun while slumped behind a huge bronze statue.
“Yeah, us,” Ryder says. “Get away from the window.”
The Range Rover’s engine roars outside as the black car speeds past, kicking up the pristine lawn. Koby slams the brakes, throws the car in reverse and slams through the glass.
He always knew how to make an entrance.
“Carter’s going to steal the fucking target!” Apollo’s goon yells from where he’s bleeding out by the wall—too fucking slowly for my liking.
Bullets ping off the Range Rover’s armored exterior, Noretto’s goons flooding the room while Koby reverses toward the back of the room where I wait with Hailey.
“Get in!” he yells, throwing himself into the back to push the door open.
Hailey bolts upright before I can fucking blink.
The safety the car offers makes her momentarily forget she’s supposed to follow my lead. She stands tall, bracing to dash forward. It’s the only mistake she’s made.
We both pay instantly when her scream pierces my eardrums as a bullet tears into her upper arm.
It feels like it hit me right in the chest.
I bet it was destined for me on Rhett’s orders—kill him if he tries taking her—but Hailey shot up, straight into the line of fire.
My stomach heads for my knees like a thirty-floor elevator with a snapped fucking cable. Time slows to a crawl as I yank her back, my gun pointed at Apollo’s goon, pure unadulterated wrath scorching my veins.
But before I pull the trigger, another shot rings out.
Not Koby’s. Not Ryder’s. Not even Broadway’s.
Apollo kills his man, eyes on me, barrel still smoking. He holds my gaze for a beat, speaking without words, then juts his head at the Range Rover, urging me to get the fuck out of here.
That’s insubordination.
Rhett’s orders were clear. “You’re in charge, Apollo. Bring Hailey to Cleveland.”
I don’t understand why he’s disobeying my father and helping me along, but I’m not about to question him. Apollo’s smart. Smarter than any of Rhett’s men. Maybe smarter than Rhett himself.
Whatever his train of thought is, it works in my favor.
A spray of gunfire has me shoving Hailey inside the car and pressing her into the plush back seat with all my body weight. “Don’t move! Koby, window!”
He rolls it down, stomping on the gas. The car lurches toward the other side of the room.
“Broadway! Get in!” I rain hellfire on anyone aiming at him as he dashes to the back door.
The vile taste of guilt covers my tongue at the thought of leaving Apollo behind, but it melts away when his getaway car pulls up.
The short escape window Apollo provided just closed.
