Page 95 of Daddies of the Underworld

Luca’s voice broke through. “Cameras are looping in the interior west hall. I’m breaking it now.”

“I’m almost there.” I plunged through an open doorway. “Break faster. I need to know what’s there.”

“Your faith in me warms my heart.”

“Less talk, more action or it’ll be more than my faith warming your heart.” It would be my death.

A man burst from the stable directly in front of me with a shotgun in hand. I put two rounds in his chest before the barrel cleared his hip. Fuck. How awful was it that I’d missed this? Not the killing, exactly, but the adrenaline. But not under these stakes. Not with my baby girl the reason I fired off shot after shot without any hesitation.

We pushed through the courtyard and over to an old, dry well with cracked stone at the base and weeds growing between the pavers. A flash of pink near the base stopped me long enough to stoop and pull out a plastic jewel caked with dirt. My chest locked, but I kept my hands steady as I held the jewel up to the helmet camera. “She was here.” I shoved the jewel into my pocket and motioned at the men on either side of me. Once we crossed to the other side, we’d have to split up.

Nina’s breath broke through the channel before someone pulled her back from the mike. Luca swore into my ear. “Look for a row like in the picture.”

I scanned the ground until I found three pebbles lined up with a crescent-shaped twig pointing toward the tower. “We were right about the tower.”

Another shot cracked from the upper balcony. Stone and dust rained down on my shoulders, and I dropped behind the wall, firing around the other side and forcing the shooter back long enough for the rest of my men to rush through so Paolo could blow the next charge to open an interior door.

With my back pressed to the wall, I held my ground through the rumbling boom, then charged into the main house through a wall of smoke and splintered wood.

Two men in the foyer tried to block our way. I shot the first before his hand closed around his firearm. The second raised his hands. “No. No.” He took a step back and put his hands on top of his head.

Paolo rushed him, ziptied his hands together, and pushed him toward me.

“Where’s the girl?” I pressed the muzzle beneath his jaw when he wagged his head back and forth. “If you think Viktor will torture you more for answering than I will if you deny me, then you have no idea who I am.” I leaned in close. “The Devil does not wait.”

His eyes went wide. “Tower. Lower rooms.”

I released him into Paolo’s custody and raced down the long corridor. I’d trusted Sofia’s clues but having confirmation was never a bad thing.

“Hidden panel on the right side. Ten meters ahead.” Luca’s quick words slowed my steps. “Heat signature behind it.”

I raised my fist, and my team froze. The stone panel shifted, and a barrel eased through the gap. Amature. I fired through the seam. The would-be shooter screamed and fell, shouting in Russian.

Luca came back in my ear. “Second door on the lower corridor. Heat signatures are all over, but one is small.”

My heart rose into my throat. I could have used my own infrared heat camera but I preferred things this way, where I could see every inch of stone around me. My grip tightened around the rifle. We cleared an office, then a storage room where medical wrappers and a used syringe rested on the counter. The hallway past the storage room turned into a kill box. Three men fired from behind overturned furniture, sending a cascade of mortar and stone into my face.

One of my men screamed and clutched his leg, cursing through clenched teeth. I counted bursts, caught the moment they stopped to reload, and rushed them, firing with every stride.

Two men went down, their arms flying up as death slipped over their faces. A third man ran. I chased him down, slamming his head into the wall before he made it six steps. His head cracked with a sickening thud even as he swung a knife blindly behind him, hoping to catch me. I caught his wrist, broke it, stripped the blade, then pressed my forearm against his throat. “Would you like to die?”

He blinked grit from his eyes before shaking his head. “No. Please. He threatened my sister. I…I have no choice.”

“Good.” I grunted and pistol-whipped him in the temple. He dropped to the ground in a sprawl that would leave him with a raging headache but kept him out of our way.

Matteo’s clipped voice caught me on my way up the stairs. “Status?”

I almost popped off that he was watching through my motherfucking camera and heard every word I did.

But I understood his compulsion to be told. “We’re close.”

Paolo set the charge on the tower door while I covered the hall. Footsteps pounded above us. More Russian shouts and curses. Gunfire answered from the main house, where Matteo’s alliance members were causing a shit storm of trouble. The charge blew the lock apart, and I went through.

A man stood inside with one hand around Sofia’s arm. He held a pistol close to his side, the angle not quite pointed at her head. I took a single second to check Sofia. She was barefoot, filthy, and too pale beneath a mess of tangled hair. Her pink sweater hung off one shoulder, and her tights were torn on one knee.

“Daddy.” Her voice quivered, and the rage that had fueled me this entire campaign went from blazing to volcanic eruption.

The gunman jerked his hand, and I shot him through the eye. He dropped, dragging Sofia down with him. She screamed, her arms flailing.