Then Ink’s unreadable gaze met mine, and I nodded once.
He kicked the door open, and we breached the door.
The first man didn’t even see my fist coming. His head snapped sideways, the crunch of cartilage breaking beneath my knuckles. He fell backward, his gun skidding across the floor. I followed him down and slammed my knee into his ribs. Heard the snap. Felt the crack. A sliver of satisfaction oozed into my veins.
He tried to scream. I shoved my forearm across his throat and pulled my knife with the other hand.
“You lay a fucking hand on her?” I rasped. “No? That’s a shame. I like them better when they’ve earned it.”
Then I drove the blade home—fast and clean.
Behind me, I heard the telltale thud of a body dropping. Then Ink’s low voice cursing.
I rose and turned, seeing blood splattered on his cut.
The guy Ink’d taken down had bled like a stuck pig.
Ink crouched beside the body with a sigh, wiping at the leather. “You got a name? No? That’s all right.” He reached into the guy’s back pocket, calmly pulled out a wallet, and flipped it open with a gloved hand, checking the ID. “Just wanted to know who I’m sending the receipt to.” Then, with a quiet click, he put a bullet in the guy’s temple.
Looking down at the blood soaking the bottom corner of his cut, Ink sighed, deadpan. “Fucking dry clean only.”
Tomcat appeared in the doorway behind him, scanning the scene. “Easy, Ink. Your Mafia’s showing.”
Ink arched a brow. “They got blood on my vest, man.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Tomcat smirked and stepped inside. “Go full Corleone after we’ve cleared the rest.”
I kept moving.
In the far corner of the room—curled on the floor, limbs bound, and eyes wide with shock—I saw her.
Elena.
Her hair was mussed, her cheek scraped from where her face had probably been pressed to the floor. But she was awake.
Her lips moved—my name, whispered so faint I almost missed it.
I didn’t remember crossing the room. Or cutting the restraints and dropping to my knees beside her.
All I knew was that I had her in my arms, her body trembling as I pulled her close, one hand sliding up her back, the other bracing the back of her head.
“I’ve got you,” I murmured, my voice rougher than I meant it to be.
She clung to me, her face buried against my chest. Her fingers gripped the front of my shirt like they needed something solid to hold on to.
“You’re okay. I’m here. You’re safe now.”
“I knew you’d come,” she whispered. “I knew it.”
I turned, my eyes scanning the room to make sure the others had finished cleaning house.
They had. Fallon checked the last pulse and gave a tight shake of his head. “All clear.”
Nobody was left alive.
Rebel walked over with a blanket, and I wrapped it around Elena’s shoulders, then shifted her into my arms, bridal-style. She was light, but my chest still ached with the weight of what they’d done to her.
I looked at King. “We need to send a message.”
