Page 119 of Not Mine to Keep

“Seems your brothers want to play, too,” was all I heard Rocco say before my eyes closed again, and my head lolled forward, too heavy to keep up.

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed between the shots being fired and the grunts and movements that seemed to echo all around me before I heard, “Alessandro, it’s us.”

My hands ... are they being untied?My eyes closed. Opened. Closed again.Fuck this drug.

“Take this.” Was that Hudson?

A Glock now rested on my palm as someone started to help me up. I looked over to see two men tumbling down the stairs. One of them ... was that Constantine? The other—Rocco fucking Barone.

Hudson let go of me to go to my brother, and I fell to my knees, dropping the Glock.

Get up. Get the fuck up.I shook my head, trying to override the drugs flooding my system.

I slowly lifted my head, trying to make sense of my surroundings and that Constantine was in the middle of a fistfight with Rocco while Hudson killed one of the Russians who’d waterboarded me all week.

Groggy, I snatched the Glock where it rested near my hand and shifted back to a seated position on the concrete, sitting on my ankles.

At the sound of more steps from somewhere, I discovered Enzo with us.

This isn’t a dream. It’s real, isn’t it?

“He’s been drugged,” Hudson told him. “Is the rest of the house secure?”

“All tangos down aside from Barone, but Constantine wants to finish him,” Enzo confirmed, kneeling alongside me to hook his arm around mine. “Keep an eye on them while I get my brother up.”

Hudson focused on me, then back at the brawl happening before me.

Constantine was getting his revenge against the man who’d tortured him all those years ago, and he was most likely assuming the prick had done the same to me this week. But no, I’d been spared that fate.

Somehow, Enzo managed to get me back on the chair, and he removed the Glock I weakly clutched. “Is Calliope okay?” I whispered, hating how fucked up I was.

“She’s fine,” Enzo reassured me, wrapping a hand over my shoulder as the three of us waited for Constantine to finish the job so we could exfil.

And I was ready to do exactly that. Ready to get the hell out of there and to my wife.

“Knife,” Hudson warned a moment later, and I witnessed my brother narrowly dodging the blade from Rocco only to take it from him.

“Go to hell, where you fucking belong,” Constantine rasped, just before sliding the blade across Rocco’s throat.

At that, my eyes fell closed again. The drugs were too powerful, and I welcomed the rush of warmth flowing through my body, allowing thoughts of my gorgeous wife to besiege me, hoping this was all real and that I’d see her soon.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Alessandro

Bucharest, Romania—Nine and a Half Hours Later

“He’s awake. What the fuck did that asshole give him?”

“You know how he is with legal drugs. Forget it when it comes to the illegal shit.”

“Why didn’t the meds they gave him here counteract what Rocco gave him?”

There were people talking somewhere. Familiar voices. None a match to Rocco.I don’t think.

“You know him. He’s weird like that.” A pause. Then from what I could tell, the same person kept talking. “But he’s alive; that’s all that matters.”

“Just some bruises and cuts. Starved, from what the doc said.”

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