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Pop.
Pop.
Pop.
In less than a few seconds, three separate shots, the men were on the floor, their blood and brain matter splattered everywhere—even on a few of the other men who had been close to them.
Seeing their dead bodies, I began to relax. Those were the five I knew Manuel favored. He’d even allowed them to watch a few times when he’d tortured me in his bedroom. And now they were burning in hell right along with their sadistic leader.
Relief made me feel weak. The other men with guns were already lowering their own weapons, staring in gaped-mouth amazement at the carnage that sweet little Nova had caused so quickly and effortlessly.
An angry shout from the second floor was the only warning we got before bullets started to rain down on us. Nova jerked back, blocking my body with her own as best she could while lifting her gun. Two shots, one hitting the man in the gut, the other in the forehead, just as she’d done with the other five men. That was all it took, and then he was falling over the balcony, already dead before he hit the floor with a sickening thud.
Breathing hard, Nova kept her hands on the gun and swung it around, pointing it at the other men, even though their weapons were at their sides. “Anyone else?” she snarled, a momma lion protecting her cubs—me and my baby.
Guzman stepped forward and bowed his head to us. “Welcome home, Miss Cali,” he said in Spanish. “We have missed you.”
Garret
I sat silently on the Vitucci jet as it slowly made its descent into the private airfield in Colombia. Beside me, my dad was crying quietly. He’d rarely stopped since he and Mom were told about Nova. It wasn’t me who broke it to them. It should have been, but I was still in Canada when they got to New York after their vacation in Mexico. I wasn’t so sure I could have said the words if I had been there, though.
Telling our parents that I’d let Sheena O’Brion take my baby sister, chop her into unrecognizable pieces, wasn’t something I felt confident being able to vocalize. Even though I’d seen the proof for myself, speaking the words would make it even more real, and I was already struggling.
There had been nothing of Nova’s face left to identify the broken, massacred body. But she’d been wearing the necklace Ryan had given her for Christmas. The same necklace she never took off. She wore it everywhere, even to bed. And it had just been lying there, in the blood…and other gore. No longer hanging from her neck because her head had been severed from the rest of her little body.
After working for the Vitucci family for years, I’d seen and done some fucked-up shit, but nothing could have prepared me for that sight. I’d lost the contents of my stomach.
What was left of my baby sister had been lying there, more a puzzle that needed to be put back together than an actual body.
As her big brother, I was supposed to protect her, but instead, I’d been out looking for Manuel Ramirez. Then I’d gotten the call from Ryan, and my entire world had stopped. Not only had Ramirez and O’Brion been working together to keep us distracted, they had taken the three women who meant the world to us.
Ciana and Nova had been taken to Canada, where they had killed my sister and tortured Ciana. And Ramirez had taken Lis back to Colombia. Knowing what he was capable of—what he’d already put her through—when I’d been given the choice of going to South America to take out Ramirez once and for all, or head back to Canada for Ciana since she’d been taken yet again, I’d chosen the first option. Even though I wanted to shed some O’Brion blood for what they had done to my family, the chance that Lis might still be alive had me boarding the jet and flying to California to pick up the rest of my father’s MC.
Every single brother within the Angel’s Halo MC was on the plane, their cuts on and their guns already loaded. We weren’t leaving without Ramirez, and once we had him, we were taking him back to Creswell Springs and putting his head on a fucking pike.
Vehicles were waiting for us at the airfield. Since Vitucci had control of what used to be the Ramirez coke fields, we had plenty of men in Colombia, but this was personal. Manuel was responsible for what had happened to Nova, and that meant the MC had first dibs on his worthless hide.
But first, I had to know if Lis was still alive.
We all loaded up, and the drivers stomped on the gas. The plan was to go in hot, break down the gates—just like that fucker Bain O’Farrell did when he took Ciana for the second time—and kill every motherfucker who got in our way.
That plan was pulled out from under us when we were met with an army of men standing in front of the gates, Manuel Ramirez’s dead body already lying on the ground in front of them.
Dad, Uncle Bash, Uncle Spider, and Uncle Hawk jumped out of the first vehicle. I followed them with Max, Jack, Elias, and Kingston. Everyone else filled in behind us, their guns already drawn and pointed at the men who stood with their own guns in hand, but they didn’t try to raise them in our direction.
“You came for the body, yes?” the one in charge said as he stepped toward the dead body. With the lights from the high wall surrounding the property shining down, along with the lights of our vehicles, we could all see that Manuel had a broken neck.
“Who killed him?” Uncle Bash demanded.
“One of our own,” the man said with a shrug. “Take him and go.”
I pushed through the others. “Lis…” I swallowed and corrected myself. “Calista. Is she here?”
If I hadn’t been watching him, I would have missed the way his features tightened, but in the next moment, his face smoothed out, becoming completely devoid of expression once more. “She was,” he said after a brief pause.
My gut clenched. “Where is she now?” I demanded.
Another pause came from the man before he crossed his arms over his chest. “Miss Cali is dead.”
