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Jacob's words come out in ragged, pained bursts. "It was an ambush. The Nightingales, they knew we'd be scattered. They waited for the right moment to strike. They took Isabella and Seraphina."
A fury, colder and more dangerous than before, blossoms within me as I listen to his labored breathing. His struggle to stand illustrating the brutality of his ordeal. Victor's fists clench and unclench with each shuddering breath Jacob takes, his own rage a mirror of mine.
Victor's voice comes out raw, laced with unexpected ferocity. "Was Seraphina hurt?" I glance at him, my eyes narrowing instinctively at the growl, the unfiltered rage in his tone I had never heard before.
Jacob nods weakly. "I saw her lying at the bottom of the stairs when I was shot. I couldn't get to them. They carried her and Isabella out of here."
"Fucking bastards!" Victor roars, his fists clenching as if ready to tear apart the enemies with his bare hands.
Leaving Victor stewing in his fury, I press on through the house, opening doors, urgently searching. Distress and anger twist inside of me like barbed wire as the reality sets in. I still haven't laid eyes on my mother or Aurora. Every empty room is a silent scream, confirming my worst fears that the carnage has claimed more than just the physical structures. It's personal. A trail of terror left in their wake.
My breath hitches in my throat as I push open another door, and the scene before me punches the air from my lungs. There, among the carnage, is my mother sprawled on the floor. Her eyes, once so full of defiance and fiery spirit, are now glassy, emotionless, eternally fixed on some invisible horizon. A wave of numbness crashes over me, and the room spins as the truth anchors itself deep within my core. The beast inside me, lurking beneath the surface, howls in despair and fury.
Victor's heavy footsteps approach from behind, quick and chaotic. He swears vehemently, his voice sharp enough to slice through the thick tension that fills the room. With rough hands, he seizes my shoulder and spins me around, his finger jabbing towards the wall. Written in her blood is a macabre message.
"Time to pay. We have something you want. Now, give us what we want. We'll contact you soon”
– Nightingale
The bloodied words are more than a threat. They’re a declaration of war. My eyes harden with resolve, steely and unforgiving. They've taken from me, and for that, the Nightingales will face a reckoning they can't even begin to imagine.
My mind races, haunted by the terror that must have gripped Isabella in those harrowing moments. The thought of her fear is a razor-sharp blade twisting in my gut. She's out there, pregnant and vulnerable, a plaything at the mercy of the Nightingales. It's more than I can bear. My wife is caught in the clutches of such cruelty. How her heart must have pounded, each beat a drum sounding the alarm of her capture.
I can almost hear her pleas, the silent screams for help that I couldn't answer. Now, as she waits, surely her spirit is fighting to stay alive, to stay hopeful for me to find her. The beast within me paces, ravenous for the reckoning that's due. For every second of fear they've instilled in her, there will be an ocean of retribution. I swear it.
Something clicks inside of me. I'm more beast than man now, the change coming over me as natural as a full moon's call to a hidden werewolf. I turn to Victor, my words more growl than speech. "Track Isabella. Assemble the men. I'll meet you at the warehouse. Stock up on weapons because we're going hunting."
Victor's eyes are hard with the same anger, but he's cautious. "Where are you going?" he demands.
I don't hesitate. "I'm going to recruit someone more ruthless than me." And with that, I leave the house without looking back.
I stalk toward my car with determined strides, jump in, and take off toward my destination. I thank my lucky stars that I secretly had Victor put a tracker in Isabella’s ring. She never knew, never felt the light touch of me sliding it off her finger during the night, and it was back before she woke up the next morning.
My foot presses harder on the gas pedal. Normally, I wouldn't dare approach Julian for help, but this is a special case. The Nightingales didn't only take Isabella. They have Seraphina, too. That alone will cause Julian to thirst for blood. No one messes with his baby sister.
I speed through the gates at Julian's estate, every part of my being screaming the urgency of the situation. Decorum and subtlety have no place here. I can't afford the niceties of a well-mannered visit. As my car skids to a halt in front of the house, Julian is already outside with his gang flanking him and their weapons at the ready. A small army bristling with hostility.
"What the fuck, Blackhart," Julian growls at my sudden appearance, his posture radiating danger. "Do you have a fucking death wish?"
I get out of the car, lifting my hands in the universal gesture of peace, showing I'm unarmed and not here to fight. "I need your help," I say, my voice even, eyes locked onto his. "You'll want in on this. The Nightingales took my wife."
Julian quirks an eyebrow, the suspicion plain on his face. "What makes you think I'll help you?"
There's a moment of calculation in my response, a second where I choose my words with the care of a man walking on a knife's edge.
"They didn't just take Isabella," I say slowly, deliberately lowering my hands and meeting his fierce gaze with an intensity that matches my own desperation. "They took Seraphina too. She wasn't among the bodies at my mother's house."
His body goes rigid, the muscles in his jaw clenching so tight it looks like they might snap. Julian's formidable composure gives way to a storm of fury that seems to emanate from him in waves. "Those body-stealing, shit-kicking, low life's kidnapped my baby sister?"
Julian's heavy boots pound the ground as he stomps down the stairs, eyes ablaze with a fury that seems to ignite the very air around us.
"What the fuck was my sister doing at your mother's house, Blackhart?" he bellows, each word like a bullet shot from a gun.
I roll my eyes, already tired from the night's grim discoveries. "Your sister is my wife's best friend, asshole," I reply, my voice flat and weary. "Isabella was staying there for her safety while I went to hunt the Nightingales, but we got bad intel. They ambushed my mother's house while we were away."
For a moment, Julian just stares, his eyes drilling into me as if trying to find the lie in my words. Then, like a trap snapping shut, his arm whips forward, and his fist connects with my face.
"What the fuck!" I shout, staggering back from the force of the blow.
