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They’ll die—every last one of them.
The ride to the secluded location is dreadful and feels longer than it actually is. It’s pitched black out, and thankfully there aren’t many cars on the road. I coast down the single dirt road, hitting my headlights along the way. The last thing I need is to alert them that I am coming.
Tony was right about one thing, I have no idea how many men I’m up against. So if I’m going to get Siân and me out of there alive, then all I have is the element of surprise.
The path is rocky and uneven, and it’s not until my eyes adjust to the change in lighting that I can see where I’m going. With only the moon to guide the way, I slow my speed and stay close to the edge to be safe.
Up ahead, a tall, dark structure comes into view. It’s quiet for miles, the only sound coming from birds and waves against the dock in the distance. I pull over to the side of the road, snatching my weapons on the way out of the car.
Using the app, I follow the blinking red dot. According to this, Siân is being held inside the building about a thousand feet ahead of me. I throw my gaze around, taking in as much of my surroundings as I can with it being so dark out. The closer I get, the more I can see. There is a light on in the building, and parked in front is a run-down car. I don’t bother to register the make and model as I duck behind the nearest bush to survey the place.
After several seconds of no movement, I inch forward, keeping low with my pistol drawn. Once I approach the building, I duck behind the car, then rush toward the door and press my back against the steel structure.
I listen for a moment, hoping to hear anything to give me an idea of what’s going on inside. A chill runs through me, and every hair on my body stands at the sound of her voice. So weak and strained.
“Please. Why are you doing this?” Siân groans out, but her plea goes unanswered.
Peeking through the slit in the door, I spot her in the center of the room, and she’s tied to a chair. From what I can tell, she’s alone—not a soul in sight. I’d be stupid to assume whoever took her is not lurking, but I can’t think about that. Not when she’s visibly hurt.
Blood lines her forehead, part of it caked along her eye. My blood boils, red flashing across my vision for the fact that she’s hurt. She’s alone, afraid, and bleeding, and I fucking hate it.
I sneak inside, being careful to keep the door from squeaking. Approaching Siân, I dart my gaze around but don’t see anyone. It appears to be just us, but there is a vibe in the air. I can’t quite put my finger on it. It’s a familiar sense, but strange because I couldn't even begin to explain what it is. Similarly, when you know eyes are on you, even if you can’t see anyone, like some sixth sense that sends waves of nerves and unease running through you.
“Topolina,” I whisper while crouching down in front of her.
Siân jumps with her eyes wide and pushes her back into the chair to get away from me.
I frown, unable to make sense of her reaction, but I manage to get it together. “Baby. Relax, it’s me.”
“No, don’t touch me. Christian is going to find me.”
“Siân?” She’s delusional. That must be it with the amount of blood she’s lost.
She thrashes around, and I have to hold her still. “Stop it. You’re going to hurt yourself. It’s me, little mouse. I’m going to take you home.” I inch around, pulling my knife from my pocket to slice at the ropes that bind her.
Before I can succeed, there is movement behind me, and I spin with my finger on the trigger, ready to unload the clip. But I freeze. Like a deer in headlights, I stare at the person in front of me, a face that matches my own that’s slightly hidden behind the barrel of a gun. Confusion rolls through me, and for a second, I think I’m starting to grow delusional as well. Then he speaks, and I know that I am indeed lucid.
“Ciao, fratello.” Hello, brother.
My stomach is knotted tight, confusion seeping through me as I stare back at eyes that mirror mine. His features, down to the sideways grin, are all the same. This can’t be right.
Brother? He called me brother. I would know if that were true—wouldn’t I? All these years, there is no way possible that the person standing in front of me is indeed who he says he is.
