Lily is the only thing that matters more.
The only thing.
A slow rage rises through me, controlled at first, like a tide. “Please,” I say to Finn, my voice cracking only once before I crush it back down. “Try.”
Finn doesn’t look up, just nods, hands firm on the wound, the other already making the calls. “I’ll do what I can. You got a med kit in there?” He jerks his chin toward the safe room.
“Yes,” I bite out.
Conan jogs up the stairs, breathing hard, eyes wild. “They ain’t here, Drago. I checked everywhere.”
My jaw twitches as I stand, drawing my weapon fully now. “Get everyone looking. Maria is the Preacher. Get the word out and let’s fucking end this,” I spit.
Ignoring the guilt ripping through me. The fact that I granted access to enter.
She’s taken the only woman I’ll ever love. She’s going to pay. And so will Tatiana.
Turning my body toward the corridor. Toward the staircase. Toward the back of the property. Toward wherever she took her.
My gaze flicks down to Lev one last time. He looks small on the floor.
Not weak. Never weak. Just… human.
My hands curl into fists so tight my knuckles ache.
“I’ll bring her back,” I say softly, not to him, but to myself. To the house. To the blood. To every god that’s ever watched monsters like me crawl out of hell and call it love.
Then I move.
I will burn my way through anyone standing between her and me.
As I head to the living room, a brush of fresh air hits me. The door is open, even if it’s just a crack.
My blood turns sharp.
I rip it open. And there, pressed into the grass, faint but visible… Footprints. Two sets. One dragging slightly.
My chest tightens.
I take one step outside?—
A gunshot rings out. A scream rips through the air. And my heart nearly tears from my chest.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO
Lily
The further I lead her into the woods, the less of a clue I have about where I am.
I don’t care.
My mission was simple. Remove her from the house. Get her away from my father. Get her away from the safe room. Get her away from Drago when he comes home.
After that… I didn’t think this far.
I haven’t roamed these grounds. I don’t know the paths. I don’t know where the breaks in the fence are. I don’t know anything except the image that won’t stop looping behind my eyes.
My father bleeding out on the floor. Blood soaking through his fingers. His body going still.
