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We’ve got a good view of the mansion from the top of the hill where we’ve parked the cage, and we’re surrounded by woodland.
“I got ‘em,” Brax confirms. “Third window from the left. I got a good view on Gracie and Shaniya.” I slap my hand at Troj’s chest when I hear my sister’s okay. I know this is fucking killing him as much as it is me. “Rogue and Lydia too.” Brax looks around to assure Grimm and Screwy.
There’s a whole lot of fucking heat coming off Screwy and once we’re inside, I know he won’t be able to contain it.
“Maddy?” I check because I swear if there’s a single mark on her pretty little head, Screwy won’t be the fucking issue.
“There’s another girl with them, but I don’t see Maddy?” Brax says, adjusting the zoom on the binoculars.
“I’m going in now. No more waiting around.” Troj pushes himself off the tree he’s been leaning against. He crushes his cigarette out under his boot. Then he slides his hands back over his forehead to gather up his long mass of hair, securing it with the black band he keeps around his wrist.
“Same here. We can go through the back. It’s the closest entrance to the room they’re being held in.”
“They tied up?” Grimm asks with a frown. He’s pissed but not half as worried as the rest of us. He knows it would take a snowstorm in hell to take out his old lady.
“Do you think Rogue would be sitting still if they weren’t?” Squealer answers cleverly, taking the toothpick out of his mouth and pointing it at the target.
“I got to find Maddy,” I speak out loud, my mind unable to focus on anything but her. What the fuck was going through her mind, putting herself in danger like this? Is she trying to fucking punish me?
“You want me to come with you?” Squealer asks.
“No, you stay with him,” I nod my head toward Screw, who’s breathing like an Ox and staring at the house like his gaze alone could set it on fire.
“You guys going in will create a big enough distraction to buy me some time to find her.”
“I got to look for Riley.” Storm steps forward, cracking his knuckles.
“Brax, once you have the girls secured, you pick a man, keep him alive, and do your thing. We need to know everything. We ain’t leaving any women here or anywhere else. We’re finding out where Storm’s sister is today.”
“Got it, VP,” Brax agrees, and Storm nods back at me gratefully.
“Verretti is mine.” Brax makes it clear as he stands up from his viewing spot. “No one keeps a photo of my old lady and gets a painless death.”
I don’t know how Screw feels about that, but he don’t say nothing, just keeps staring at the house.
“I want the trainer,” Screw eventually speaks up, “You can have Verretti, but I have the man that haunts her dreams.”
“Goes without sayin’, bro,” Squealer grips his shoulder with a callous grin on his face. He knows what’s coming is gonna be messy, just the way he likes it.
Screwy pulls his knife out of his belt and holds it in his right hand, then takes out a Glock with the other. Troj is ready too, bouncing on his feet and cranking his neck like he’s about to step into the ring.
“You good, Grimm?” I check. He looks back at me and nods calmly. And I attach the silencer to the end of my gun.
“Then let's go get our crazy-assed old ladies,” I give the order.
Keeping low and hidden, I move down to the side of the house and check around the corner toward the front door. There’s only one man standing guard, and I wait for the sound of gunfire to come from the back before I strike.
The anger that’s been festering inside me since I found out Maddy was here might simmer if I killed him slowly, but I don’t have time for that shit. So a bullet to his head will just have to do.
I turn the corner and pop him off, rushing to the door and grabbing his gun before I enter. I stay on guard as I look around the reception room. A large staircase runs along both sides of the room and leads to the landing above. I can hear the chaos in the distance, confirming that the boys are in, and I quickly take out another guard from behind when he rushes out of a door to my left and hurtles toward the room where the girls are being kept.
He drops to the floor, clutching at his leg where I caught him.
Reaching toward him, I kick the gun out of his hand before he can point it at me and press my boot into his throat.
“Blonde girl, blue eyes. Where is she?” I look down to ask him, applying extra pressure.
“We’ve got quite a few of that description,” he laughs back sarcastically, and I force the end of my gun into the wound on his leg and make him cry out in pain.
