Wrath pounds through my temples, my vision flooding with a deep red haze.
Someone has their hands on my wife.
And that someone is gonna die a very slow, very excruciating death.
“Where?” Cillian whispers.
I strain my ears. “Left side. Near the back, I think.”
I creep in the direction of the voices, sidestep a dark gray container and see them. Heat crawls up the back of my neck when I see two thug ass Russians drag Adriana toward a side door. Her hands are bound but she still fights like a hellcat, kicking and twisting every step of the way. One of them gives her a backhand across the face.
Something snaps inside me. The urge to smash, to break, to hurt thrumming right below the surface, so close to boiling over.
And then it does.
I fire off a few rounds into the first guy’s head and back before he even sees me. The second spins around, reaching for his gun. The one who dared lay a finger on my wife. I shoot him in the throat. He drops, gurgling, eyes blown wide as he clutches the wound. Adriana stumbles. I catch her before she hits theground, setting her back against the wall while I finish dealing with her asshole assailant.
I stand over him seizing on the cold, dirty floor, and say, “You know what happens when you touch something that doesn’t belong to you, right?” I lean forward, getting right in his face as the life seeps from his body. “Youdie.”
I could shoot him in the head right then. But then he wouldn’t learn his lesson before he meets his maker. So I leave him floundering on the ground. It won’t be an excruciatingly slow death as I intended, but it’ll do.
I move toward Adriana, pull a knife out of the waistband of my pants, and flick open the blade. I slice through the plastic ties. They fall to the ground, her wrists and ankles raw and bleeding from the pressure.
“Are you hurt?” I ask, sliding a hand down the side of her red, tear-stained cheek.
She nods. “I’m fine. But Lochlan, Eamon is here?—”
“I know.”
She rubs her wrists, and all I want to do is pull her against me and make sure she’s real. But there’s no time. I exchange a look with Cillian. He nods toward the back of the warehouse, signaling me to move.
“Can you walk?” I ask Adriana.
“Yes.”
I grab a gun off one of the dead Russians. She holds out her hand. “Give it to me.”
I recoil slightly. “Yeah?”
She nods. “I know how to use it.” I hand it over. She checks the magazine and chambers a round. Fuck me, that’s hot. She didn’t even hesitate.
“Stay behind me,” I say.
We quickly and quietly move through the warehouse. Gunfire gets closer. Ronan’s voice comes over the comms, barking orders.
“I’m gonna head to the back,” Cillian says. “Get Adriana outthe side of the building. Ronan and I will hold them off on the loading dock.”
I nod. “Be careful.”
“You, too.” He ducks down another corridor and disappears into the darkness.
I hold Adriana tight against me as we head away from the firefight. Another voice through the chaos around us.
“Lochlan.”
I stop, finger on the trigger, my shoulders locking like steel.
My father steps out from behind a stack of crates down the hallway from us. Two massive Russians flank him. He has a gun in his hand, but it’s pointed at the ground. Like we’re just meeting casually instead of hunting one another.
