Page 15 of Beautiful Scars: Unshakeable (The Beautiful Scars Duet #2)

Chapter Thirteen

Levi

Standing in the parking lot, the weight of my pistol pressing into my side, I'm trying to clear my mind and find some focus. But Sunny's voice keeps playing over and over in my head.

I'm barely hanging on.

The only thing holding me together right now is knowing that I won't be any good to her if I can't find a way to get it together. Z's hunched over his phone scrolling through street views of the warehouse district. It's so easy for him to maintain control. I don't know how he does it.

"They're moving fast," Colt says, checking his watch and adjusting his earpiece. "Prepping for transport."

The men are starting to gather around me, waiting for the final briefing before we head out. I'm pacing in a tight circle, trying some of that deep breathing shit Z's always trying to get me to try.

I think I'm immune.

"We stick to the plan. Clear the building floor by floor." I bark the words out, meeting the eyes of each of the men around me. There will be no fucking this up.

"Priority is Sunny and any other women," Zane confirms, tucking his phone away. "Garrett comes second."

"But he'll get his turn," I growl. The bastard's lived too long already.

Wolf approaches with a tablet displaying the security feed we hacked. "Guards are doubled on the lower level. They know something's coming."

"Good." I check my weapons one final time. "The more nervous they are, the sloppier they'll be when we hit 'em."

Zane catches my eye. "When we get to Sunny—"

"I know." The words are acid in my mouth. "You're on point. She trusts you more."

It's true, but that doesn't make it hurt any less.

My fingers find the spot over my heart where her name is inked into my skin—swirling black letters I see every morning in the mirror.

What started as penance for my failures has become something else.

A promise. There are no lines I won't cross, no limits to what I'll do to make sure I get Sunny back.

With me. Where she belongs. Where she's always belonged.

"We move in three teams," Colt reviews. "Levi and I take our men through the main entrance. Wolf and Chase take their team in through the loading bay. Zane and Rex hit the basement."

I nod, forcing myself to focus on the tactical details instead of the storm in my head. "The nurse's key card should get you through the first set of doors. After that—"

"We improvise," Zane finishes.

The sky is dark, cloudless, and full of stars. In a few hours, the city will start waking up. We need to get moving.

"Remember," I say as we do our final checks, "we'll deal with Garrett. Capture him alive if possible, but Sunny comes first. No matter what, we leave with her."

The others nod. They've seen what this has done to me, how the weight of my past failure threatens to crush what's left of my soul. But they also know I'll put it aside to make sure she's safe.

Failure is not an option.

"Move out," I order, and we split toward our vehicles. The warehouse looms ahead, a concrete fortress.

Somewhere inside, Sunny's fighting to survive.

Zane

The warehouse glows an eerie green through my night vision scope. My finger rests against the trigger guard, steady despite the anger burning in my chest. The security cameras we disabled look back at us with their black, dead lenses. Everything's quiet—almost too quiet.

It doesn't make sense for a building supposedly holding as many people as it is.

My earpiece crackles with movement checks from the teams. Colt's voice confirms the north entrance is clear. Levi's harsh breathing comes through as he positions on the east side.

The image of Sunny in my t-shirt that morning at the safehouse flashes through my mind—how small she looked, how safe she finally felt. The memory focuses the violence I've been containing.

"All teams in position." Wolf's voice is barely a whisper.

I adjust my grip on the rifle, scanning the perimeter one final time. For years Garrett's had his hooks in her, even when she thought she was free. Years of watching, stalking, controlling from the shadows. The thought makes my trigger finger itch.

"On my mark." The words taste like metal in my mouth.

Guards patrol their routes with clockwork precision—four on the roof, two at each entrance. Inside, we know there are at least twelve more. And somewhere in the basement levels, Sunny's waiting. Probably terrified. Definitely hurt.

My chest tightens. The memory of her voice on that phone call, the terror when Garrett discovered her...

I push it down. Lock it away. I need cold calculation now, not fury.

"Three..."

The word hangs in the humid night air. Through my scope, I watch a guard light a cigarette. His hands shake slightly—he's nervous. It means we've already got the upper hand.

"Two..."

Levi's breathing has steadied. He's found his killing calm.

Part of me hopes he reaches Garrett first. If he does, I know Levi will make sure he doesn't walk out alive.

And, he deserves that closure. But an even bigger part of me wants Garrett for myself.

To drag him back to the house and show him how many levels of hell I can take him to. I turn off my night vision.

"One..."

The last number barely leaves my lips before chaos erupts.

Flash-bangs detonate at every entrance. The new guard drops his cigarette, fumbling for his weapon.

My first shot takes him in the throat before he can radio for help.

Two more guards drop from precision fire before anyone can sound the alarm.

We move like shadows across the area. The exterior guards are down in seconds. They're no match for our team's efficiency born from years of training and working together. The real fight waits inside.

My boots hit concrete as I vault over a low wall. The warehouse door looms ahead, its keypad already dark from our tech team's work. Behind me, Wolf and Rex fall into formation without a word. We've cleared dozens of buildings together, but this one's different. This one's personal.

The door slides open silently. The first guard inside turns, surprise barely starting to register before my bullet finds his chest. Another tries to radio—Chase takes him down. The hallway stretches ahead.

Blood spatters the pristine walls as we advance. Gunfire echoes from above—Levi and Colt's teams engaging the upper floors. Our path leads down.

A nurse appears around the corner, hands raised. Her eyes go wide at the sight of us. "Please," she whispers. "There are girls—"

"Where?" My voice sounds foreign to my own ears.

She points to a supply closet. "Hidden elevator. But he's moving them. Started as soon as he got the call—"

I leave Wolf to handle her, already moving. The elevator doors slide open to reveal a guard. His shock lasts half a second before my knife finds his throat.

The basement level opens into a maze of corridors. More guards emerge—Garrett's personal security judging by the way they fight. They fight like it matters, but we fight like .

Blood runs down my arm from a knife slash, but I barely feel it. Each room cleared brings us closer. Each body on the floor is one less between us and her.

A scream echoes through the halls—female, terrified, but I don't think it was Sunny. We follow the sound to locked doors with small windows. Behind each, faces peer out. Women. Girls. Some barely more than children. Wolf starts working locks while Chase covers our backs.

'Sunny!' My voice cracks on her name, bouncing off concrete walls. The sound mixes with boots thundering above as our men escort survivors to safety.

The corridors blur together. Each locked door another moment of hope that leads to another crushing disappointment.

'Clear!' Levi's voice echoes, rage matching mine. Eight women found so far. No Sunny.

'Sunny!' The next door yields another empty room, white walls mocking us. I kick over a steel medical tray—instruments clatter across the tile.

Levi appears, dark hair matted with sweat. 'Nothing in the east wing.'

Four doors remain.

My boots leave bloody prints on the white tile—evidence of the guards who tried to stop us.

"Two each." My voice comes out rough from shouting her name. "You take left."

Levi nods, already moving. The first door on my right reveals another medical setup — pristine and empty. The equipment gleams under fluorescent lights, telling stories I can't let myself think about. I clear the room methodically, checking every corner, every cabinet. Nothing.

My hand reaches for the second door handle. The metal feels cold against my blood-slicked palm. Behind me, I hear Levi kicking in his first door, his frustrated growl echoing off concrete walls. The sound pushes me forward.

The handle turns. My heart pounds against my ribs as I swing the door wide, rifle ready.

Another empty room.

Levi's boot hits the final door with enough force to tear it from its hinges. The sound of twisting metal echoes through the corridor, but it's his cry that freezes my blood. Animal. Wounded. The kind of sound a man makes when his worst fears become reality.

I'm moving before conscious thought takes over, my boots sliding on the floor. The lights flicker as I round the corner, casting strange shadows across Levi's frozen form in the doorway. He's blocking my view, but the sickly smell of copper and antiseptic fills my nose.

"Move." The word comes out as a growl. When he doesn't respond, I grab his shoulder, shoving him aside.

The room tilts as it comes into a sharp focus.

Deep shadows lay across Sunny's still form.

She's sprawled across the bed, naked and exposed, her skin a canvas of purple and black bruises.

My training kicks in, and my vision tunnels.

Each mark tells a story—fingertip bruises on her throat, defensive wounds on her arms, darker patches across her ribs.

Levi stumbles forward, his composure shattering. "No, no, no..." His voice breaks on each word. "Not again. Please, not again."

There's an empty syringe on the bedside table. I take in more details—the restraints hanging loose from the bed posts, the fresh needle marks in her arm, the unnatural color of her skin.

"Sunny?" Levi's whisper fills the sterile room. He reaches for her with trembling hands, hovering just above her bruised skin. "Angel, please..."

I watch him crumble, see the weight of every single moment of guilt, past and present, crystallize and crush him all over again. His shoulders shake as he sinks to his knees beside the bed. This scene—finding her broken and still—it's his worst nightmare made real. Again.

My eyes trace each injury. Cataloging. Evaluating.

Levi's breathing turns heavy, edging toward hysteria. We can't afford a breakdown, not now. Not when we still need to get her out. I step forward, pressing two fingers against her throat.

The pulse beneath my fingers is slow but steady.

"She's alive." The words cut through Levi's spiral. "Unconscious, but alive."

Relief floods his face as he sags against the bed.

I key my radio, keeping my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins. "We've got her. Basement level, west wing. Medical. Now."

The sound of boots in the hallway grows closer. I pull a blanket up from the end of the bed and drape it over her. My fingers brush her skin. She’s burning up, and something primal in me roars for blood.

"Z..." Levi's voice cracks. "I can't... not again..."

"She's alive," I repeat, firmer this time. "Focus on that. We got her back."