Page 31

“W here the fuck is my wife?” I shove a man against the wall of the living room, putting the barrel of my gun against his neck. “Where is she?”

He pisses himself.

“You fucking pussy.” I step back as his piss streams out of his pants and pools near my shoe. “Where is she?”

“W-which one is your wife?” he questions with terror in his eyes. This man isn’t a member of the DeAngelo family. He’s just one of their fucking customers.

Low-life pieces of shit that come here and pay Michael for the use of whatever women he’s keeping in his stables. Rage fills me. If one of these motherfuckers have so much as looked at Megan, I’ll have their eyes.

And then I’ll have them skinned and left to wallow in pain until they finally die.

“Black hair with two white stripes.” I press my gun harder into his throat. “Where?”

“Fuck,” he winces. “I don’t know. She hasn’t been up here.”

Men scream in another room just before shots ring out and bodies drop. These assholes deserve slower deaths than what they’re getting.

“Where’s Michael? Marco!” I continue my interrogation.

“Not here. I swear.” A bead of sweat rolls down the side of his red face. “I swear, I don’t know where they are. They’re not here.”

“Alexander! Here!” Kaz yells from somewhere near the back of the house.

The man I’m holding pales. He may not have touched mine, but he’s in a house of depravity even I can’t defend. And if he’d had the chance, he would have done whatever he wanted to Megan.

For that, he dies.

Releasing him, I step back and deliver one single shot to his throat. His eyes go wide with surprise as he grabs at the wound, already gurgling and trying to find air.

He slides down to the ground, and I step over him. He’ll be dead in a matter of seconds.

Jogging to the back of the house, I step over bodies and pass my men as they’re taking care of others in this disgusting place. Clearing out Michael’s house is a clear message on where I stand with the DeAngelo family.

As I move through the house, one of my men run straight into me from a hallway.

“Fuck. Sorry.” Oleg stands before me. Artem and Kaz rounded up the men on this mission, so I’m not positive who’s here, but I haven’t seen Oleg since the wedding dinner.

“Did you find Kaz?” I question him.

“No, man. But I think he’s back there. I heard him yelling a second ago.” He points down the hall I’m headed. “I was going to check upstairs.”

I pause, staring at him. Something’s off. His gaze doesn’t completely catch mine.

“Alexander! I found her!” Kaz’s bellow steals my attention. I leave Oleg where I found him and run to her.

“This way. Down there.” Boris waves at me from a small room off the back of the kitchen. “Kaz went down already.”

I barrel my way down the cement stairs into the tiny area under the house.

“Megan!” I shove two of my men out of the way when they’re blocking me, and I rush forward.

Megan is sitting on the dirty concrete floor inside a makeshift cell with a bloody naked woman lying in her lap. She’s holding a wadded-up shirt against the girl’s neck.

“Megan.” I step into the cell. Kaz looks up at me from where he kneels on the other side of the girl.

“She’s been shot,” he tells me.

“She won’t wake up.” Megan’s tear-stained face turns up at me. “She was trying to protect me, and she got shot.”

I look at Kaz.

“There’s still a heartbeat, but it’s faint. She needs to get to the hospital,” he tells me.

By the looks of the girl, the gunshot wound might not be the only reason she needs a doctor.

“Megan, you have to let her go. Kaz will take her.” I lower my voice so she isn’t spooked and squat down beside her. Blood covers her chest and is smeared across her cheek.

Between all the dirt and the blood, I can’t tell if she’s hurt or not.

“Okay.” Megan nods. “Okay, but be careful. They hurt her a lot. Please be careful.” She looks to Kaz.

“I got her.” Kaz gently slides his arms beneath the frail girl as Megan releases the pressure on her neck.

As Kaz makes his way out of the cell and back up the stairs, Megan gets to her feet.

“Are you hurt?” I grab her arms and lift them up so I can see her torso. There’s no bruising on her stomach or chest, but there’s so much blood.

“I’m fine.” She assures me. “It’s her blood.”

I grab hold of her, hugging her to me. “You’re sure?”

“You came. I was so afraid you wouldn’t be able to find me.” She wraps her arms around me, burying her face into my shirt.

“I told you; I will always find you.” I clench my teeth, holding back the emotion threatening to escape.

Until I had her back in my arms, I didn’t allow myself to consider how close I was to losing her. But now that I have her, I can touch her, smell her, kiss her, I realize I was only a moment away from never holding her again.

“But I left my phone at the table,” she mutters into my shirt. “The tracker was in my phone.”

“You knew about the tracker?” I lean away so I can look into her beautiful face. Even with the dirt and the blood, no one can compare to the beauty I’m holding.

She gives a wary smile. “Alexander. I’m not an idiot. You’ve been tracking me and mirroring my phone this entire time. You are an overbearing, overprotective, arrogant man.”

A tear rolls down her cheek, and she quickly swipes it away.

“And I’ve never loved you more for it.” She presses her cheek into my chest again.

“You love me.” I squeeze her tighter.

“And you love me,” she says. “In case you didn’t already know. I know how stubborn you can be.”

Even with the horrors surrounding her, she finds a way to goad me.

“Let’s get you out of here and home.” I release her and quickly take off my shirt. “Put this on.”

“It’s too big.” She shakes her head.

I lean forward. “Megan, you’re standing here in your bra. Put on the shirt.”

It’s as if she just remembered she’d taken off her shirt to help the girl. A blush blooms beneath the smears of dirt, and she grabs the shirt from me, shoving her arms into the sleeves and pulling it over her head.

She’s swimming in it.

Perfect.

Realizing she’s barefoot, I swoop her up into my arms.

“I’m fine. I can walk,” she argues, but it’s a pathetic attempt. She lays her head against me and wraps her arms around my neck at the same time.

“When we walk through the house, keep your eyes closed, baby,” I warn her as I climb up the stairs to the main floor.

“You killed them?” She snuggles into me.

“Yes.”

“How many?”

“All of them. Now hush. Let’s get you out of here.” I kiss her forehead and take the last step up into the house. Other than my men, no one else has survived the night. The place is in ruins, bathed in the blood of my enemy.

Once we’re outside, Ivan catches up to me.

“Cheryl. We have her,” he tells me while his eyes roam over my wife. “She okay?”

“She’s fine,” Megan mutters, her annoyance at being talked about like she’s not right here showing.

“Good.” Ivan gives a nod. “Cheryl. What do you want done with her?”

“Bring her to Obsidian,” I order as I carefully place Megan in the back of my SUV.

“What about Oleg?” she asks, letting me buckle her in.

“What about him?” I ask.

Her eyes widen. “He was helping her. He was the guy on the phone,” she tells me.

My skin ices and I look over my shoulder at my brother. His expression darkens.

“I will find him,” he promises and stalks away.

The bastard was right in front of me, and I let him walk away. He was acting weird, and other than his appearance at my wedding dinner, I haven’t seen him in weeks. I should have known something was up.

“Alexander.” Megan touches my arm. “Can we go home now? Please?”

I cup her face, wiping away the dried blood and dirt.

“Of course, baby.” I climb into the SUV beside her and tap Artem’s shoulder.

“Home.”