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My phone rings. Bronx.

"I found her," I say.

"Good because that fucker Roman has her. I hacked into the street cameras where the phone was left and saw him throw her into a truck. I got a partial on their direction, but then I lost her. I’m running the plate number now to see if I can pick it up on another feed.”

“Thanks, B. I’ve got her, though. I tracked her using a necklace I’d given her. Thank fuck she took it with her. She’s all the way downtown near the seaport. I’m heading there now.”

"Send me the address and I’ll meet you. You need backup in case it’s a trap.”

"Then it's a trap I'm walking into with enough firepower to blow out a city block. Bring everything we have."

"What if she's already?—?"

"She's not." The words come out harder than I intended. "She's not dead, Bronx. Don’t even fuckin say that."

I end the call and grab my gun from the safe, checking the magazine is full. I throw more weapons into a duffel bag, enough to start a small war if necessary. Whatever I have to do to save her.

The note is crumpled on the dresser. I smooth it out,reading her words again.

The man I fell in love with.

I was so focused on the betrayal, so blinded by my own paranoia, that I couldn't see what was right in front of me.

A woman torn between impossible choices, trying to save everyone she loved, including me.

And I threw her away.

But I'm going to get her back. I'm going to tear apart everyone who touched her, and then I'm going to spend the rest of my life making up for being the kind of man who walks away when his woman needs him most.

“Let’s go,” I say to Reign, who’s scrolling through his phone. He holds it up. “I just plugged the address you texted into the GPS. It’s fucking on. I always wanted to fuck that asshole Roman’s shit up.”

“Now’s your chance,” I grunt.

The elevator ride down to the ground floor feels more like a year than just a couple of minutes. Every second that passes is another second she's in danger, another moment I'm not protecting her like I swore to do.

My phone buzzes with a text from Bronx.

On my way. ETA 10 minutes. Let’s destroy that fucker.

I let out an unsteady breath. My brothers have my back, like always. But this time, it's not about business or territory or respect.

This time, it's about the woman who somehow managed to build a home in my fucking heart and make me believe in something other than violence andpower.

The woman I love.

The woman I'm going to save, even if I have to burn down the whole fucking city to do it.

I reach the garage and throw the duffel bag into the back seat of Reign’s truck. The engine roars to life, and he peels out of the parking garage.

I load the weapons in my duffel as Reign speeds down city streets. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle, gut clenching tight.

I tighten my fingers around the handle of a Glock 13, the tips numb and white from the pressure.

I’m coming, Livvie. Hold on… I won’t lose you again.

And God help anyone who fucking dares to stand between me and my wife because I won’t think twice before torching him where he stands.

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