Page 113

Dante glances back once, brief and sharp, just enough to check I’m still with him. I nod once. No words. We don’t need them. We ride like shadows, two reapers cloaked in fury.

One of the SUVs falls into formation beside us briefly, windows tinted black, rifles visible in the hands of the men inside. Our soldiers. Our war.

We’re not heading into battle.

We are the battle.

And tonight, Sicily will be painted red with their blood.

The convoy slows as the compound where Nicolai is keeping the girls comes into view, an old villa crumbling at the edges, surrounded by rusted fencing and broken floodlights.

It’s tucked between crooked trees and overgrown brush, far enough off the coast to stay off radar, close enough to Marausa to make a quick escape by sea.

Too bad they won’t make it that far.

I kill the engine and kick the stand down, dust rising around my boots as I dismount. Dante’s already off his bike, helmet tucked under one arm, eyes sweeping the terrain. He jerks his chin toward the treeline.

“We go in quiet,” I instruct, pulling the black pistol from the holster at my thigh and checking the mag. “No gunfire unless necessary. I want two posted on the east, watch the cliffside. They might try to run.”

I turn to the group of men behind us. All of them armed, locked in, waiting for orders.

“Vince, Marco, cover the rear fence. Anyone moves, shoot to kill. Aldo, you take the north wall. Cut the lights and jam the comms.”

“What about the docks?” one of them asks, already strapping a blade to his hip.

Dante answers, “They’re our last exit. Two guards minimum. We’ll handle it.”

I scan the faces around me, voice dropping to a low, lethal growl.

“No mistakes. No mercy. Anyone standing between me and her doesn’t walk out alive.

Jordyn is in that villa. The second you see her, you call it in.

And if I find so much as a scratch on her…

” I pause, letting the weight of the moment land.

“I’ll turn this place into a graveyard, starting with every one of you who failed to protect her. ”

Everyone nods. The silence that follows is heavy, tense, like the moment before a thunderstorm cracks the sky.

Then I move.

Dante falls in beside me as we break from the clearing, stalking through the shadows. The grass is wet beneath our boots, branches snapping under our weight, but the winds in our favour. The villa looms ahead, a sliver of dim light leaking through cracked shutters.

We round the south wall just as a guard steps out for a smoke.

Predictable.

Before he can blink, I’ve got a blade to his throat. I clamp a hand over his mouth and drive the steel through the side of his neck. He gurgles, drops. One down.

Dante slinks past me, reaching the rear. Another guard stands watch by a rusted generator, bored and unaware, eyes cast down, scrolling through his phone instead of keeping watch. Idiot.

Dante whistles low. The man straightens and turns, too slow. A flash of silver. A grunt. The body crumples like paper.

We press on, blood already slick on our gloves. The air reeks of sea salt, metal, and death.

And this? This is just the beginning.

Dante disappears into the darkness like smoke, circling left. I take right, heart pounding not out of fear, but purpose.

I spot another one, gun slung low, distracted.

A whisper of wind, the crunch of gravel beneath my boots.

His head snaps up just as I swing. My fist crashes into his jaw, bone cracking beneath my knuckles.

Before he can scream, I’m on him, knee to chest, blade to throat, his eyes go wide, bloodshot and panicked.

I lean in, close enough he can smell the iron on my breath.

“Dov’è?” I snarl. “Where the is she?”

He stammers, lips trembling. “La ragazza, la ragazza bionda? Upstairs, bedroom at the far end of the corridor. Locked, guarded. And the other one is in the basement under the villa,”

I press harder, the tip of my blade biting into his skin. “How many guards?”

“Seven. Maybe ten. Heavily armed. Please?—”

I don’t wait for the rest.

The knife slides across his throat in a clean, practiced line. He gurgles as his life leaks out onto the dirt.

I wipe the blade against his jacket and turn to Dante, who’s already stalking toward me.

“She’s in a bedroom on the top floor; Bianca is in the basement.” I grit out. “Seven to ten guards. We’ll get Jordyn first.”

Dante cracks his neck and reloads. “Then let’s go introduce ourselves.”

And just like that, we descend into hell.

One by one, we carve through them.

By the time we reach the villa's outer corridor, there are four bodies bleeding into the earth behind us. No alarms. No shots. Just quiet death and the thunder of Jordyn’s name roaring in my chest.

I glance across the courtyard. Dante’s eyes meet mine. He gives a short nod, mouthing, “Clear.”

I hold up two fingers, move in two. He signals back.

And just like that, we’re at the threshold.

Jordyn’s in there. I can feel her.

And I swear on every drop of blood spilled tonight. I’ll burn the fucking place to the ground before I let them take her one step further.

We move through the villa like shadows, quiet, deliberate, hearts pounding too loud in our chests. Every step closer feels heavier. I can’t get the sound of her name out of my head. It’s not even a thought anymore. It’s a rhythm. A heartbeat. A scream pressed into silence.

Jordyn. Jordyn. Jordyn.

Dante’s behind me, every bit as wired as I am, his breaths tight, fists clenched around his weapon like it’s the only thing anchoring him.

We take down the last two guards outside the far room with clean, efficient strikes. No sound. No mercy.

“Go find, Bianca.” Dante looks at me like he wants to argue, but one look from me and he concedes. He nods once before turning and striding down the corridor.

Drawing in a breath I press my hand to the door, fingers curling around the handle. And for a split second, I hesitate.

Not because I’m scared, but because I know whatever’s on the other side will burn itself into me. I’ll never unsee it. Never outrun it. And God help me if I’m too late.

I push the door open

And there she is.

Jordyn.

Her usual silken hair a mess. Her face is pale, streaked with dried tears. She’s barefoot, wrapped in a loose white shirt that hangs off her frame. Her eyes meet mine instantly, and it nearly knocks the air from my lungs. They’re wide and wet and scared, but alive.

Until I see the arm wrapped around her neck.

Nicolai Moretti.

He’s standing behind her, holding her like a shield. One arm tight across her throat, the other holding a gun, pressed to her temple. His face is twisted into something between triumph and madness. He looks straight at me and doesn’t flinch.

“Finally.” Nicolai smirks. “You took your sweet time getting here, Russo.”

I move to take a step and Nicolai tuts.

“Un altro passo,” he growls, eyes locked on me. “One more step and paint the room red with her pretty little brain.”

My whole-body locks. Every muscle screaming to lunge forward, to tear him apart. But I don’t. Not yet.

I lift my hands slowly, trying to steady the storm rising inside me.

“Lasciala andare, Nicolai.” Let her go, Nicolai.

Jordyn winces, just barely. Her eyes are begging. Not for herself, but for me.

His smile widens, cruel and sadistic. “You came alone.”

I cock my head, eyes narrowing. “You know me better than that, Nico. My men are outside slaughtering through your dogs.”

I look at Jordyn again. She’s shaking. Her lips move, but no sound comes out. My chest tightens until I can barely breathe.

My hands don’t drop. “Let her go. I’ll trade, me for her. That’s what you want, right? You want me. So, here I am. Take me. I won’t even fight you.”

Nicolai barks out a laugh, but there’s uncertainty in his grip now.

“Oh, come on, Ares. I’ve waited for this moment for a long time,” he replies, tone soft and syrupy with satisfaction.

“To see you like this. Weak and begging without using the word. But here’s the thing.

..” his eyes gleam, tilting his head slightly, “—I do want you, yes. Every blood-soaked inch of you. But I want her more.”

Jordyn flinches at the words, but she stays quiet, her lips pressed together in a firm line. Her breathing is shallow.

Nicolai leans in, his lips brushing her ear. “After what you did to Luca,” his eyes flick to me, “you deserve to suffer.”

I don’t move. I don’t blink, but my rage is a roaring tempest in my chest.

“And now,” Nicolai whispers, turning his face into the crook of Jordyn’s neck, “you get to watch as I take something you love—” he inhales slowly, deliberately, “—and make it mine.”

“Don’t,” I warn, my voice splintering.

But he grins, presses a kiss to the side of her neck and murmurs, “She smells like vanilla and fear. I bet she tastes even better.” He adds, licking her neck. Jordyn flinches, her face distorting in disgust.

I take a step forward before I can stop myself.

“No!” Jordyn’s eyes snap to mine. Her head gives the faintest shake, the smallest plea.

Stay.

Don’t.

Please.

My chest caves in around the weight of it. But I stop, because I’d rather die than risk that bullet touching her skin.

And Nicolai knows it, that’s why he’s goading me.

But Jordyn’s still trapped in his arms.

Still trembling.

And I can’t risk a shot, not yet.

I take a shaky breath. “You kill her, and there won’t be enough left of you for the crows to pick clean.”

Nicolai chuckles, the sound low and amused, like I’m nothing more than a dog snapping at a chain. “Oh, Ares,” he purrs, pressing the barrel of the gun tighter against Jordyn’s temple, just enough to make her wince. “You keep forgetting who’s holding the gun. Who’s already won.”

I clench my fists. My jaw aches from how hard I’m grinding my teeth.

“On your knees,” he says suddenly, voice sharp and commanding. “Do it. Or I’ll do far worse than put a bullet in her skull.”

Jordyn makes a strangled sound, her eyes locking onto mine, wide and desperate.