They were all dead. Shot before they could find their guns. The ones who had a chance to fire back failed to hurt us with how protected and masked up we were.
“He’s not here,” Oleg reported in the comms unit.
He’d gone up through the ramshackle house to search for Roberto and any other leaders.
I dismissed his check-in, hurrying down to the basement to find Sofia.
“Seems like the spies were right. He’d gone to party,” they quipped dryly.
We hadn’t come here for Roberto, though. He could think he had time and could stew later. Like Roman said, we were setting a trap for him to want to come and retaliate.Hecould start the war against us. He already had by sending Sofia to spy.
I had come here only to find and save her.
“Over here,” another Orlov soldier said in the unit.
My heart leapt higher. All my senses were heightened. I turned and doubled back to run down the narrow hallway with him, never lowering my gun as I continued to pick off any Giovannis guarding the area.
The Orlov soldier kicked in doors, then stepped in to check if the cells were occupied. For such an old and large mansion, there were many rooms to get into.
Too many.
All the wrong ones.
Where are you?
I was frantic to get to her, lured closer by the sounds of her crying.
Silencers muffled the shots we fired. Overhead, the stampeding sounds of footsteps pounding on the floors ceased as my men killed the Giovannis here.
Sobs.
Cries.
Whimpers.
I heard them all and every sound of despair enraged me. That she was hurt. That she was taken. That she’d had to suffer at all.
After I slammed my foot on the last door, snapping the crossbar that locked it from the outside, I launched into the room.
Blood and gore decorated the walls and floor. But they were old stains. The trembling lump in the corner didn’t react.
Her arms stayed latched around her stomach, covering her belly.
Protecting our child.
I crossed the room and dropped to my knees.
“Sofia.”
She jerked away from my touch, burrowing her head further against her knees.
“Sweet—” I cut myself off. Even though I was whispering, so none of our voices would be tracked here, I didn’t want to say such a personal endearment here, surrounded by violence and death and pain.
Gripping her upper arms, I jolted her out of her defensive curl.
She unfurled, striking out. Her fists flew at me as she snarled, but I caught them. I held her steady.
With this mask on, and covered by protective gear, she couldn’t tell who I was.
