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When my guard’s signal indicates the coast is clear, I give the order to go in quietly. The aim is not to scare the children if they’re inside the building. As I make my way down the hill, careful not to dislodge the rocks and send them rolling down, I pray to any god willing to listen that the kids are there.
The explosives guy appears next to me, lowering the infrared binoculars and showing me four fingers. Four people inside.
Just the children, maybe. Hopefully. With the two outside, they’re vastly outnumbered. I expected a man like Marziale to put more manpower into the operation. It strikes me as odd, but I don’t stop to ponder his motivation. What matters is getting those kids home.
The men who sit next to the fire are careless. Their rifles are propped up against the side of the building. They’re talking loudly, not paying attention to the night sounds around them. Their sloppy actions scream inexperience.
I study the building through the binoculars. The door is bolted from the outside. No lock.
We slip closer undetected, coming from the back. At the side of the building, I pause. Then I hold up three fingers.
One, two, go.
We’re on them before they know what’s happening. When the fat one opens his mouth to scream, I grab his head in the vise of my arms and twist to the side. His neck snaps with a satisfying clack, his body going slack in my hold. One of my men took care of the other one. I would’ve preferred to gut them, but I can’t risk letting the kids see the blood.
My men are like ants. In a second flat, the rifles are snatched up and the bodies dragged away. The guys in charge of cleanup know what to do.
My heart keeps beat in my temples as I pull back the bolt and flatten my palm on the metal. I stop breathing when I shove the flimsy door open. It’s dark inside except for a small circle of light that comes from a torchlight that stands in the middle of the floor.
Whack.
Something hard hits me on the head. The impact makes me stumble. Before I have time to come to my senses, a vicious blow on the back of my knees causes my legs to fold. I go down as another thwack rattles my brain in my skull. Someone jumps on my back and grabs my neck in a strangling grip.
My men’s footsteps fall hard on the ground behind me. Their grunts sound in the dark as more punches rain down on us.
“Wait,” a small voice calls from the corner. “It’s Angelo.”
Sophie.
The assault stops abruptly. My attacker lets go of my neck and jumps off me. A man switches on a torchlight and shines the light around us. The faces of our attackers are caught in the beams—my nephews.
Thank fuck.
“Sorry,” Johan says, holding a plank in his hand. “I thought it was them.”
I rub my head where an egg is growing. “So you decided to take them on? With your bare hands?”
He raises the plank. “Not with my bare hands.” Squinting into the light, he leans closer. “I broke skin. You’re bleeding.”
Little rascal. Pinning him with a stare, I say even as my chest expands with pride for his courage, “You’re never to put your life at risk again. Understand?”
The lift of his chin is obstinate. “We weren’t just going to hang around here like sitting ducks.”
I take in Étienne and Guillaume’s dirt-streaked faces. My relief is so great it leaves me weak in the aftermath. I feel like hugging the lot of them.
“Angelo,” Sophie exclaims, running from her corner and throwing herself into my arms.
I hold her small body in one arm and slip the gun into the back of my waistband.
“I don’t like the men who brought us camping,” she says. “I’m hungry.”
My chest squeezes. It’s the first time she’s taken ownership of her feelings without projecting them on her doll. I’m so fucking grateful I can only stand there for a moment, pulling Guillaume under my other arm.
“I want to go home,” Sophie whines.
“We’re going, darling. Heidi can make some cocoa and fix you a warm meal.”
“I want Sabella,” she says, sounding close to tears.
