Page 63 of Secret Bratva Twins

She craned her neck, squinting in unbelief. “The facility warehouse?”

“Looks like it.” We strapped on our seatbelts. “I told you we’d find him, didn’t I?”

The most she could do was muster a small smile. She didn’t show it, but I could feel her relief. Fuck, even I was elated. Finding him was the first step to killing him. Which was my agenda. And I swore under my breath to put two fucking bullets through the bastard the second I got the chance.

The drive to the warehouse was quiet, so quiet I thought I could hear the faint beats of Gianna’s heart against her chest.

Apprehension. Anxiety.

Knowing the location was no guarantee that our kids were held unharmed. I knew Gia had the same thought running through her mind.

It was the reason her nails dug into the car seat after every ten minutes.

With each occasional glance at her, the rising ache in my chest deepened. She looked wary, eager for this nightmare to finally come to an end. I was also very keen to draw these ‘Paul DeLuca’ curtains to a close.

I parked the car on a curb by a withering old oak tree, stepped out, and eyed the washed-cream painted building cautiously. Gia planted herself by my side. This wasn’t my first rodeo. Paul wasn’t stupid; his men could spring out from behind the dilapidated structures or overgrown bushes to pose an attack. But I’d be damned before they caught me unprepared.

Good thing I’d called my men in for backup. But I couldn’t wait for them to get here.

With a firm grip on my gun, I led the way inside. Turning left and right to be certain the paths were clear.

The doors were unlocked, and white blinding lights flooded the room from above the ceiling. The room smelled like machines and chemicals. From a distance, we heard a generator running and faint footsteps, like the light pitter-patter of feet on the concrete floor.

Gianna and I shared a look; they had been expecting us.

We added speed to our steps, hurrying through unfamiliar passageways with one purpose in mind: to find our children. We passed a row of locked doors until we stumbled into a large room with one door at the far end.

Pitter-patter.

The sound of feet was louder now and accompanied by sniffles. No more confirmations needed…

It might have felt or sounded crazy but, just one look at the door, and we knew.

“Ryan!” Gianna rushed to the door, glimmering tears streaming down her face. “Daylan!”

“Mommy!” They screamed, but the thickness of the metal muffled the sounds of their tiny voices.

My chest squeezed, wondering how they were even breathing behind the heavily guarded door. So many thoughts ran through my head at once, and for a second, I remained rooted on the spot…

“Max!”

Until Gianna screamed my name.

“Max, come help! Our babies! Ryan, Daylan!”

“Mommy! Daddy!” They cried more, the pitch of their screams pricking my skin like needles.

I almost couldn’t breathe; oxygen and carbon dioxide went through me in a frenzied speed. Emotions, some of which I had never experienced before now, overwhelmed me in a quick rush. One word projected itself into my head:

OUT.

I needed to bring them out of there and fast.

I hurried to her side. She banged on the door and stared at the security lock in the place of a knob. Her brow eyes met mine, and the pain in them had intensified.

“It’s locked,” she said to me, and slammed one hand on the metal door. Anguish. Fury. “It’s fucking locked,” she seethed through clenched teeth.

I fixed the gun behind my back, between the belt. “Then, I’d shoot the fucking door down if I have to.”

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