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They’re not unconscious, but they’re certainly stunned. At this point, that’s all I really need. The moment I find my balance, I jump and rush over to them. They groan in protest and confusion as I dig through their pockets. I take one of their guns, all their cash, and I smash their phones beneath my heel.
The train finally comes to a stop, which is my cue to get the hell out of here. We were only one stop away from Bern, but it looks like I’ll have to trek the rest of the way there. With a heavy sigh, I zip up my coat and sprint for the door.
Chapter 11
Gabriel
Ireturn home to find the front door slightly ajar.
Panic washes over me. Something isn’t right.
The moment I step into the main entryway, I see Penelope lying on her back on the tile floor, rigidly still. I can’t even detect a rise and fall off her chest. It’s only when I take a step toward her that I realize why.
A halo of red pools around her skull and her open eyes stare at nothing.
Dread rips straight through me.
“Odette!” I scream at the top of my lungs. “Odette!”
I run to the living room. She’s not there. I check the kitchen next. She’s not there, either. I bound up the stairs and practically kick her bedroom door down all the while screaming her name.
I freeze.
Seated on the edge of her bed is a man clad in black. I’m not sure if I should be relieved or terrified that my daughter is nowhere to be found. I hear the soft click of a gun hammer being pulled back, the chilling glint of cold, unfeeling metal catching the light. The man has a gun trained me. One wrong move and he might blow my head off the same way he did Penelope.
“It’s so good to see you,” he says, his voice strangely familiar. “I see you’ve built yourself a charming little life here.”
I raise my hands slowly, my eyes straining in the darkness. The man reaches over to flick on the bedside lamp, illuminating the space with warm white light.
My blood curdles in my veins.
“Antonio Favreaux,” I breathe, too stunned to do much other than stare.
I don’t wait for him to speak. I lunge forward, fully intent on caving in his skull. Before I can get my hands on him, however, three men grab me from behind and force me to the ground. They pin my arms behind my back, one of them steps on the back of my calves to keep me from moving, and the last jammed his knee between my shoulder blades.
They’re just barely able to hold me still. There might be three of them, but I’ll be damned if I let them force me into submission. The only reason I’m not tearing their heads off is because I need to know my daughter is safe.
I glare up at Favreaux. Is he finally going to kill me? Is today the day I die?
Instead of pulling the trigger, he smiles. There’s nothing friendly about it. I know firsthand that this man is the definition of a wolf in sheep’s clothing. The last twenty years have been harsh on him.
His deep-set blue eyes are surrounded by heavy dark circles. His cheeks are hollow, and his lips are thin. He’s got a couple of scars littering his face that I don’t remember him having before he was behind bars. But despite his physical decay, there’s still a sharpness to him, something menacing and indescribable. While his lips are twisted into a smile, his eyes are clouded with nothing but hate.
I have a million and one questions, but the first one out of my mouth is, “Where’s my daughter?”
Favreaux scoffs. “Safe. For now.”
“I swear to God, if you put even a finger on her, I’ll—”
“What?” he challenges. “What are you going to do? Betray me again and throw me back in prison?”
“If you’re going to kill me, get it over with.”
“Kill you? No, my old friend. I’m not going to kill you.”
“Then what do you want?”
His eyes darken, something wicked washing over his face. “The McHale Fortune,” he says plainly.
