She swallows hard and points off into the distance behind me, barely having the energy to hold her own fucking arm up. “There’s … there’s an old storm cellar,” she says, her voice a soft, pained whimper. “A wooden hatch in the ground.”
That’s all I need to know.
Marcus takes off like a fucking rocket into the dark woods behind us as I fly to my feet and look down at Levi. “Get her to the fucking car and stop the bleeding, otherwise she won’t make it. She’s lost too much blood.”
He doesn’t hesitate, holding her tighter as he gets to his feet and takes off back to the Escalade as I race after Marcus, determined to put this fucker down.
Fury rages through my veins as we storm through the overgrown trees, following the trail of blood and drag marks left in the dirt. Fucking amateur, thinking he can steal from us without consequence. There’s a reason we’re feared all over the world, why men and women scream and run when they see us coming, why we’ve been labeled the grim reapers.
Nobody takes from me and gets away with their life.
Shayne Mariano is ours, and the sad sack of shit that took her from us will pay with his fucking life. It’ll be the sweetest sin.
Lucas Miller was a fool to think that we didn’t clock him the second we walked into that club, watching us like he was trying to find the nerve to slit our throats. Like he could ever get that close. What a fucking joke. The moment we slaughtered his younger brother, he was on our radar.
Dealing with him and his lowlife brother is like child’s play. Draven Miller didn’t stand a chance, and now his big brother is about to meet him in hell.
It’s a shame really, with a bit of training, Lucas would have made an excellent pawn. He’s the perfect fall guy—already on the FBI’s most wanted list, though not anywhere near as high as me or my brothers. I pride myself on being at the top of that list. It’s the greatest form of praise.
We knew there was a chance that Lucas would strike within the club, it’s part of the reason that I wanted to get my brothers out of there. They may know how to handle themselves beautifully, but they’re still only human and a single stray bullet to the head would take them down just as quickly as the next guy. I couldn’t risk it. I never would have thought that fucker would be so stupid as to take Shayne from us. The possibility didn’t even enter my mind, but seeing the way he’s left her now, I can’t wait to end his miserable life. I’m going to take the greatest pleasure in this.
He signed his own fucking death certificate the second he set his sights on her, my only concern is that Marcus gets to him first and takes the pleasure right out of my hands.
We find the entrance to the old storm cellar within moments and Marcus shakes his head, scoffing in disappointment. “He didn’t even try to hide it,” he spits, shaking his head as he scans over the blood staining the top of the hatch and imagining exactly how it got there.
“What did you expect?” I mutter, scanning over the old wooden hatch. “He left his fucking car out in the open, visible from the main road. He’s practically begging for us to find him,” I add, though knowing it has a little something more to do with the GPS tracker we had inserted into her arm when the doctor was fitting her with birth control.
Hearing Shayne’s familiar cry in the distance, Marcus roars in frustration and I narrow my stare on my brother, watching the deep concern flooding his eyes.
He’s getting too attached to this girl. I’ve tried to warn them. Hell, they saw what happened to Felicity, yet both of my brothers insist on making their own mistakes with Shayne. Fucking morons. They’ll learn the hard way that when you’re a son of the infamous Giovanni DeAngelis, you don’t get to have nice things, and you sure as fuck don’t get to fall in love.
Wanting to get this over and done with so we can get back to Shayne, Marcus tears the hatch up and my jaw clenches seeing the pool of blood on the stairs that glistens in the dim moonlight.
He fucking did this to her and now he’s going to pay.
Marcus takes off down the stairs and I follow him into the dark pit below, shaking my head at the sheer idiocy of this place. Where’s the fucking drainage? The secrecy? The challenge? He’s an amateur at best, and if he hadn’t touched Shayne, this wouldn’t even be worth my time.
A white bathtub sits in the center of the room and Marcus’ lips twist into a disgusted sneer, taking in the torn material and blood pooled in the bottom of it. She was tortured here like some kind of rabid animal.