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“I’m here. I’ve got your back. Let’s do this,” Sonny says just as passionately, placing his own hand over the others. I hope he survives this. I need him to.
“Asia?” Eastern prompts, his gold-flecked brown eyes more tumultuous than I’ve ever seen them before. I know he wishes I wasn’t here. I know he wishes I’d stayed behind. That I was safe. They all do. But this is my family too. This is my fight as much as theirs, more so perhaps.
“This is where I belong. I’m ready,” I repeat, cupping their hands between mine and pushing away the pain I feel inside. I grip their hands tightly. “It’s time for payback. It’s time for retribution.”
Around us the air crackles with tension and the humming need for vengeance.
The King might be my father, Monk my brother, but they’renotmy family.
These boys are. No, correction, thesemenare.
And we’re here to fight.
Entering the building is surprisingly easy. We slip through a low window into a musty-smelling cellar filled with boxes of junk, long since forgotten by the household. A faint light filters beneath the gap of the door at the top of the wooden stairs, and the space around us is lit up by Malakai’s phone. He swipes at the screen enlarging what looks like a floorplan of the building.
“The good news is that it’s a fairly straight run to where they’re holding Pink…” Malakai says after a beat.
“And the bad news?” Eastern asks, his hand reaching for mine. He squeezes it with reassurance.
“We have to pass the security detail.”
Ford glances at me. “How many are we talking?”
“As far as Ma Silva has been able to calculate, approximately twelve men work for the King here at the Palace. Four covering each of the three floors. Pink is being held in a room on the topmost floor.”
“And you know this how?” I ask.
“Callum sent Grim the footage of Pink and in turn she sent it to me. I’ve watched that film a dozen times over. Pink is being held in a circular room. According to Ma Silva, and backed up by the floorplan, there is only one circular room and it’s in the east wing.”
“Shame Pink’s hair isn’t long enough to make a rope. She could’ve saved us all this trouble,” Sonny blurts out, then clamps his mouth shut, grimacing. When he gets nervous he tends to get verbal diarrhoea. “Sorry, not funny.”
No one bothers to pull him up on his remark. We’re all feeling anxious.
“Let’s get this done,” Malakai says, pulling the knife free from his utility belt.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Camden and Eastern retrieve something from their jackets too. Both are holding knives of their own. Pretty sure they’ve come from Ma Silva’s kitchen.
“I said no weapons,” Malakai growls, using his knife to point at them both.
“If you think we’re going up there without any way to defend ourselves, you need your head fucking tested,” Camden retorts, gripping the five-inch knife tighter.
Malakai frowns. “I suppose you three have weapons too?” he asks, looking between us.
“No. We’ve got our fists. We can fight. Don’t need any weapons to do serious harm like these two pussies here,” Sonny responds, smirking.
“Shut the fuck up, dimples,” Camden says darkly. He’s in no mood for jokes today.
Malakai rolls his eyes. “Youallneed to shut the fuck up and follow me. I will deal with any guards we might come across. Theonlytime you’re going to be using any weapons, including your fists, is if I’m knocked out cold and you’re forced to defend yourself. Am I clear?”
“Clear,” we all chorus.
When we open the door onto the ground floor, Malakai is soon eating his words because in front of us are half a dozen guards headed up by Monk.
My.
Fucking.
Brother.
