We’re trapped.
Marco and I move together, covering each other as we fight our way toward the water’s edge.
If we can reach the boats, we might have a chance. Behind us, I hear more of my men falling.
The sound of bodies hitting concrete. The wet gurgle of someone drowning in their own blood.
I’ve been in firefights before. Survived ambushes that should have killed me.
But this is different.
This is personal.
Adrian isn’t just trying to steal my product or my territory.
He’s trying to destroy me.
Then I see him.
Adrian Morello stands on the warehouse roof, backlit by the flames, his stocky frame unmistakable even in the fog.
His black hair is graying at the temples, and even from this distance, I can see the scar across his neck.
The one I gave him five years ago when he tried to move in on my territory.
He’s not shooting. He’s just watching. Waiting.
“Artyomov!” His voice carries across the docks, amplified somehow. “I hope you’re enjoying my little welcome party!”
I aim at him, but he’s too far away for an accurate shot with a handgun.
I squeeze off three rounds anyway, satisfaction coursing through me when he has to duck behind the roof’s edge.
“This is just the beginning!” Adrian shouts. “I know all about your pretty little wife! Sophia, isn’t it? Such a beautiful name. Such a beautiful woman.”
Ice floods my veins. He knows about Sophia. Of course he does. In our world, information is currency, and Adrian has always been good at buying secrets.
“I’m going to kill you,” I promise, my voice deadly calm despite the chaos around me.
Adrian’s laugh echoes across the water. “You’ll have to catch me first! But don’t worry, I’ll take good care of your bride while you’re busy cleaning up this mess!”
The implication hits me like a physical blow. This isn’t just about the drugs or the territory. This entire ambush is a distraction. While I’m here, Adrian’s men could be moving on the mansion. On Sophia.
Panic, sharp and unfamiliar, claws at my chest.
I’ve faced death a hundred times without flinching, but the thought of Sophia in danger—the memory of Nicole at the mercy of four men while I wasn’t home—makes my hands shake.
“We need to leave. Now.” I grab Marco’s arm. “Get whoever’s left to the boats. I don’t care about the product. I don’t care about anything except getting back to the mansion.”
Marco’s eyes widen with understanding. “You think he’s going after her?”
“I know he is.” I fire off another round, taking down an enemy soldier who’s getting too close. “This whole thing is a setup to get me away from her.”
We fight our way to the boats, leaving three more of my men dead behind us.
By the time we reach the water, there are only six of us left out of fifteen.
Over half my crew, gone in less than ten minutes.
