Page 163 of Retribution

I’m petty and angry enough to use the meat cleaver to behead Urock as he writhes in pain from a bullet wound to the stomach. I want to ensure that he’ll never be able to hurt anyone again, but there’s no way I can take my time to do it.

Growling as I see Albin attempting to crawl away, I throw the meat cleaver at his ass. The men with guns are now fighting in the crowd with whoever crashed the party, and I just want to get the fuck off this stage.

“Isolde!”

I hear my name, but they aren’t my alphas. Whimpering as I fight the high of the drugs in my body, I writhe on the ground as my body insists I need a knot and cock immediately.

“No!” I scream, dragging myself after Albin. Maybe shooting a clip into his face will help this damn haze.

It certainly couldn’t hurt anything.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Grant

Lucas and I burst through the back door into the large viewing room as soon as we hear Isolde scream and the glass break from the skylight. Oliver and Alesso being caught has tied our hands a bit, but I know they can handle it.

At the first gunshots in the air, the room explodes into action. Alphas turn and complain about lost money, and I hit them in the face with my gun. While Lucas is strapped with weapons, he uses his brass knuckles to expend some anger.

Blood explodes from noses, jaws are broken, and I end it with a gunshot to the head. Together, we fight our way through the crowd. The men that the Senior Mafia Families sent fight all around us, and then my name is being yelled.

“I got it!” Lucas calls out, turning to find Oliver and Alesso. “I can handle myself.”

Fuck, I know he can because I taught him all he knows, but it’s still really difficult to leave him as I make a path toward the stage. Shaw is wide eyed at the corner of the raised stage, yet I don’t see Isolde with him.

I only know what happened so far because Oliver and Alesso projected to Lucas so I could see. My heart fucking hurts for my girl. She can kill whoever she wants, anything if it helps even a little.

Then, we’ll help her pick up the pieces afterward. I can’t stomach the fact that so many people came here to watch Isolde be raped to death. Every door was closed and chained quietly by Ophelia and her men which helps us, and the plan is for no one involved in this to escape alive.

I think she may have planned to kill everyone anyway after the event was over because she’s a bitch like that.

Climbing onto the stage, I look around at all the blood until I finally find Isolde. She’s screaming and crying as she hacks away at a body. He’s missing all kinds of pieces, and her eyes are glazed over.

“I can’t get to her,” Shaw says softly. “I think she’s been drugged, and with everything that just happened, I’m a fucking stranger. She needs you to pull her out.”

“Understood,” I say softly, taking a step through the slippery blood. “Did she kill all of them?”

There’s an arm with a gun nearby, the black clothing telling me it may have belonged to a guard.

“She did. A guard tried to come for her, and I shot him. Isolde hacked him up and then went for the naked fuck that she’s chopping up,” Shaw explains. “Are you sure you’ve got this?”

“Yeah. Oliver and Alesso seem to be detained by someone. I guess Ophelia made them,” I say. “No idea how, unless Lucas’ assistant was feeding her more information than we expected. With everything going on, I don’t know if they’re okay or not.”

“Fucking bitch,” he growls, facing the fight. “I see them. Damn, why does that girl look like someone I know?”

“Who?” I ask, my body insisting I move.

“Rock Dresmond and his kids,” he says, jumping off the stage without another word to begin fighting his way through the crowd.

The mafia men here are fucking crazy.

Ignoring the fighting, outside of making sure I’m not about to become cannon fodder, I begin moving toward my girl.

“Isolde,” I say softly, ready to jump out of the way if she decides to throw her weapon at me.

“Grant,” she mutters, picking up a knife to carve out an alpha’s eyes. He has blood stained blonde hair, and I recognize him from the images sent to me through Lucas.

“He’s dead, baby,” I say, taking another step forward. “If you want to make sure his sorry ghost is blind as well, please continue.”