I walk straight through the bar like I own it, eyes locked on the back hallway. Counting. Positions. Angles. Who's watching me, and who isn't.
One idiot tries to step in front of me. I don't even slow down. Just slam my elbow into his throat and keep moving while he drops.
The backroom door is open. And there she is. Audra. Tied to a metal chair in the center of the room, wrists and ankles bleeding from fighting the zip ties, her shirt soaked with sweat and clinging to her body. I take in the blood on her lip, the bruise blooming on her cheek, and her wide, frantic eyes that grow impossibly larger the second they land on me.
"Gabe—" Her voice cracks, raw from screaming. "No! Don't—please don't do this!"
A man whom I recognize as Razor—from the pictures my security team assembled after Audra told me about him—lounges against the wall, gun in hand, grinning like a shark. Flea, who was also in the dossier, and a few other men stand nearby, looking uneasy but still loyal for now. I don't look at any of them. Only her. I don't give a shit that Flea helped Audra get out thefirst time; he deserves whatever is coming for him now: a death that will most likely be too quick.
My chest caves in at the sight of her hurt, terrified. For me. Fuck. I drag in a slow breath, forcing it down, forcing everything down. She's… not just another weakness. She'stheweakness. The only thing that's ever come close to bringing me to my knees.
I take one step into the room, hands visible, every instinct screaming at me to go to her. To tear the place apart. I don't. Years of control lock my body in place. "I'm here. Alone. Like you wanted." Razor laughs. "Look at that. The big bad capo came running for pussy. How touching."
Audra thrashes harder against the ties, fresh blood runs down her wrists. "Gabe, please—go! I love you, okay? I love you! Don't trade yourself for me—they'll kill you!"
Hearing her sayI love yourips something open inside me. It's the first time she's said the words, and it's while she's bleeding and begging me to save myself. My jaw clenches so hard it aches. I keep my eyes on her, letting her see everything I feel—how much she means to me, the obsession, the absolute refusal to let her die here.
"Baby," I promise softly, "I'm not leaving without you."
Razor steps forward, gun raised. "Wrong answer, D'Amato. Drop your weapons. Now."
I slowly pull both guns from my holsters and set them on the floor, then kick them toward him. The knife follows. Empty-handed. For her. Razor's grin widens. "Smart boy."
Audra is sobbing now, still fighting the ties like a wild animal. "Gabe… no… please…"
I take another step closer, eyes never leaving hers.
"I love you," I tell her, loud enough for the whole room to hear. " I'm not letting them take you from me. Not today. Not ever."
Her tears fall faster. "I love you too," she chokes out. "That's why you can't do this?—"
Razor cocks his gun. "Touching. But time's up. Say goodbye, sweetheart."
My hands curl into fists at my sides. Come on, you piece of shit. Make your move. I'm done watching her sitting there, tied to that fucking metal chair, blood dripping down.
I assure her, "It's going to be okay, baby. I've got you. I'm not leaving without you."
She sobs harder, redoubling her struggle against the ties. "You can't—Gabe, please?—"
A crackle of static cuts through the room from one of the Bluetooth speakers scattered around the place. Then a voice, calm, cultured, the same one from the phone, fills the entire space like a goddamn announcer.
"Not yet. I want to see him beg first."
My blood turns to ice. The Collector. He's watching. Right now. The entire building, maybe the whole block, has to be wired. And some of these men aren't Razor's anymore. I can feel it in the way a couple of them glance at the speakers instead of at their boss. Traitors, already bought and paid for.
Razor laughs. "Hear that, D'Amato? Your new friend wants a show."
The Collector's voice returns, smooth and amused. "I want you to beg for her life, Gabe. Like your sister did for her baby." A low chuckle. "Did you know that? Of course you didn't. She traded her life for that little brat. But I'm a man of my word. I delivered him to his father."
The words hit like a blade between the ribs. Catarina. Begging. For her child. I feel the floor tilt under me for half a second before I lock it down. My jaw clenches so hard it creaks. I know I have to play this exactly right, get under his skin, hit him where the mask slips.
"No, you didn't," I retort, forcing my voice to stay cold and flat. "We found him."
The Collector laughs harder, genuinely delighted. "Only because I wanted you to."
I force a laugh of my own, low, dark, the kind that belongs in Vegas, where the show must go on, no matter how much blood is on the stage. "You keep telling yourself that."
My eyes flick to Audra while I talk. She's still fighting. One of her ankles has finally worked the zip tie loose. I can see the raw, bleeding skin where she's been grinding it against the chair leg for who knows how long. Blood drips steadily onto the concrete. Every single drop is a promise I make to myself right then. I will make them all pay for every drop of her blood. Razor, his men, the Collector's plants in this room, every single one of them is going to scream before this night is over.
