Page 14 of Bratva Wolf

“Did Cynric tell you where he went?”

“Why?” I can sense his irritation rising.

“If he’s meeting Aguilar, it’s a trap.”

“What the fuck do you know, Thane?”

“There’s no way Jose is having him come to his warehouse in New Jersey alone if it’s not a setup.”

My father rants in Russian. “Cynric suspected, and I just thought he was being paranoid. Fuck.”

“You need to send men to the penthouse to guard Isabella.”

“No.” He growls. “I’m sending men to Cynric.”

“I don’t think any of us are going to get there in time to intervene.” We jump into the SUV, idling in the garage.

Saxon slams his hand against the steering wheel. “What the fuck? I thought you knew these people?”

“I know Jose’s cousins and his uncle. Jose, not as much. He’s more of a loose cannon. His uncle wouldn’t risk his relationship with the bratva, but Jose, he’s unpredictable. He sees himself as the up and coming ‘king of New York,’ and Cynric is a rival.”

It takes us thirty minutes to get to the warehouse. Saxon moves to the idling SUV. He turns as he pulls out his phone. “The driver is dead.”

“Fuck!”

Saxon’s talking to Papa as I move to the warehouse door. “I can’t hear anything.”

“I told Papa. He’s calling Izzy.”

If anything happens to my nephew, Cynric will never forgive us for leaving her.

Barging into the large open room, Cynric rises from the floor, rushing towards us. “Where the fuck is Isabella? Who’s with her?”

I shake my head. “She’s fine. We left her at the penthouse.”

Saxon’s head pivots around the room, noticing the dead and dying bodies on the floor. Jose lies in a pool of blood. “Where are the rest of Aguilar’s men?”

That feeling of dread has overtaken my soul. “Fuck. He’s sent a dozen to your place.” He definitely underestimated Cynric. Jose has a large group of men around him at all times. If they aren’t here, they’re at the condo.

I barely get the words out as my older brother slams his body into mine, pinning me against the wall. “Should anything happen to her or my child, I’ll kill you. Blood or not.”

Shame and guilt encompass my being. My mother’s words about responsibility echo in my brain as the taste of vomit creeps up my throat. I can’t disagree with my brother. He’s right. I failed. I failed to protect him from this potential catastrophe and failed to protect his child.

Saxon drives like a bat out of hell as Cynric screams on his phone. Anatoly, his right hand is sending men to the penthouse, but I know it’s too late.

Pulling into the garage, Saxon slams the SUV to a stop. Four of our men are dead by the elevator. Fuck. I text Anatoly to senda cleaning crew to dispose of the bodies and wipe the security tapes. We run up the stairs to the lobby, flying out the door, into a cascade of bullets. Our men greet us in Russian with details about who’s in the building. Eight men have made it onto the elevator and have broached the penthouse security. Aguilar sent a lot more than a dozen men.

Cynric growls. “I’ll kill every one of those cartel fuckers.”

We pile out of the elevator with guns in hand. The penthouse door is blown open. Debris spreads along the hallway with drywall dust and pieces of wall, glass, and metal blown over the carpet. How the cops and fire department aren’t here, I can’t figure out. My attention is brought to focus as we enter the apartment into a blaze of gunfire.

Cynric yells. “Isabella?”

Saxon answers. “Papa says she’s in the safe room. Let’s clear the area.”

I move through the expansive room, checking corners and closets until I return to the main room. A man extends his arm to shoot my brother, and I fire first, knocking him to the ground. With my gun in hand, I scan the area, as I put a bullet into his forehead.

Saxon barks. “That’s seven.”

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