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“For Sara,” Priest adds.
With guns raised, I kick in the door and barge through it, my brothers at my back, right where I want them.
We step into the laundry room just as two men run past the doorway on the other side. In the middle of the room, a large island stands, big enough for us to crouch behind. Peeking around, I catch a glimpse of the two men. One presses his finger to his ear and speaks urgently, “Downstairs is clear. We’re moving up.” A flashlight bounces across the floor then disappears with the man.
As he walks away, I edge out from behind my hiding spot and head toward the open door.
Priest stands on the other side, while Patch remains crouched behind the island.
“Ready?” I mouth to Priest.
He raises his hand and counts down from three. When he reaches one, we slip out into the large, open plan living room. Staying in the shadows, we make our way through the room and toward a narrow hall.
A gunshot rings out.
FUCK! “Get down,” I say urgently.
Another shot hits the sofa and white fluff bursts from the fabric.
“Down there!” a man shouts.
Scrambling toward the far wall, I stay low, Patch and Priest hot on my heels.
Footsteps catch my attention and I chance a glance over the sofa to see Manuel-fucking-Santos slinking along the wall and sneaking through a doorway.
“Hold them off,” I whisper-shout to Priest, who shakes his head at me, eyes narrowed.
“Demon,” he says, his voice a low growl, but it’s too late.
I leap over the sofa and land on the marble floor, slipping in what I realize is blood. Two of Manuel’s men lay splayed out on the marble, throats slit from ear to ear.
Liam.I shake my head. “Crazy fucking bastard,” I whisper into the darkness as I get to my feet and head toward the door Santos went through.
Priest and Patch are under fire, and I only hope they can hold them off long enough for me to get to Manuel.
Seconds later, I’m standing at the door, gun ready as I twist the handle and push the door open. As I step into the room, Santos is escaping through another door on the opposite side. I shoot, aiming for his leg, but the fucker is quick, and he makes it through, the door closing behind him.
I leap over a glass coffee table and yank on the door handle, pulling it open.
I’m greeted with darkness and a narrow set of wooden stairs. Fucking rat bastard has tunnels and escape routes everywhere.
I run, taking the steps three at a time until I spot Manuel at the bottom. He’s frantically punching at buttons on the wall, his eyes darting between me and the heavy wooden door he stands in front of.
A green light flashes, the door clicks, and Manuel shoves it open.
You’re not getting away this time, motherfucker.
I lunge. Manuel’s head slams against the floor and his body stills.
Standing over his prone form, my hate calls for me to end him.
Make it hurt.
Isadora’s words play over in my mind.
I leave Manuel on the ground to search the room for tape. When I find a roll of silver duct tape, I pull a chair to the centerof the room, heave the fat fuck’s unconscious weight into it, and bind his hands and feet.
Make it hurt.
