Page 62 of Rafi

Finally, I speak, my voice low and rough. “We stick to the plan. We hit them hard, just like we said. And if they’re alive—if there’s even a chance—they’ll know we’re coming for them.”

Kanyan doesn’t respond, but his silence speaks volumes. We both know the truth: if the team isn’t already dead, they’re running out of time. And when the clock hits zero, I will drive straight into hell to find out.

The night pressesdown like a weight, thick with tension and the distant hum of adrenaline coursing through my veins. The dashboard clock ticks away the final moments before we storm the gates, but my mind keeps drifting back to the crypt. To the explosion. To the silence on the other end of the line. My brothers could already be gone. Buried. Or worse—trapped and waiting for a rescue that may never come.

What the fuck am I going to tell Allegra?

But I can’t think about that now. Not if we’re going to survive the next tense minutes.

Kanyan’s face is carved from stone, but there’s a storm behind his eyes—a maelstrom of fury, grief, and the kind of rage that turns men into monsters. It’s exactly what I need from him right now.

“I need you focused, Kanyan. Right now, I don’t need Kanyan De Scarzi.” I let the words hang in the air, heavy and deliberate. “In this moment, I need my enforcer.”

For a second, his eyes flick away, a crack in his armor as the words sink in. He shakes his head, but when he looks back, I seeit. That fire. That ferocity. He nods once, curtly, his voice low and dangerous. “Let’s blow this bitch.”

He climbs out of my car and behind the wheel of his own vehicle, and I watch him in the rearview mirror. The tension in his jaw, the set of his shoulders—it’s like watching a predator coil before the strike. Good. I need him feral. I need him ready to tear through the gates of hell if that’s what it takes to bring our family home. Because that’s what they all are. Every one of the people who went into that tunnel is family, and we won’t stop until we get them back.

Jayson slides into the passenger seat beside me, his movements too casual for the weight of the moment. “Everything okay?” he asks, like we’re about to take a Sunday drive instead of wage a war.

“Where are your comms?” I snap, my patience already razor-thin.

Jayson fumbles, pulling the earbuds from his pocket and fitting them in place.

“Don’t take them out again,” I warn him, my voice low but sharp. “Stay close. Don’t fuck up. I mean it, Jayson.”

He nods, fastening his harness, and I glance at the clock. Less than a minute now. My hand hovers over the gear shift, my pulse pounding in time with the countdown.

I give Kanyan a thumbs-up through the window. His engine growls in response, a beast straining at the leash.

The gates loom ahead, tall and imposing, but they might as well be made of paper.

“On my mark,” I say into the comms, my voice steady even as my chest feels like it’s about to explode.

Five.My engine roars to life, growling like a beast.

Four.My grip tightens on the wheel as I surge forward.

Three.The headlights catch the gleam of the wrought iron gates, illuminating the guards beyond.

Two.I see the shift in their posture, the flicker of confusion as they realize we’re not stopping.

One.Kanyan’s vehicle roars forward, the plow at the front slicing through the night like a battering ram.

“Go!”

The impact is deafening, the gates crumpling under the weight of the plow as Kanyan’s vehicle tears through. I’m right behind him, my foot slamming down on the gas as we breach the compound.

Bullets rain down almost immediately, pinging off the reinforced steel of the vehicle. The guards are quick to recover, but not quick enough. Kanyan’s team spills out of their vehicle, rifles blazing, cutting through the first wave of resistance with brutal efficiency.

Jayson and I are out of the car in seconds, my rifle already up and firing. The air is thick with smoke and the staccato crack of gunfire. I don’t think. I don’t hesitate. I move, a singular force, my only focus on the guards in my line of sight.

Kanyan is a blur of motion, a hurricane of destruction as he carves a path through the chaos. His roar cuts through the cacophony, primal and raw.

“Cover the left flank!” I bark into the comms, my eyes scanning for weak points in their defenses.

A guard lunges at me, and I pivot, my rifle butt connecting with his jaw in a sickening crack. He goes down, and I don’t stop to check if he’s out for good. I finish him off with a bullet in his temple, for good measure.

“Brando, more incoming!” Jayson shouts, his voice sharp with urgency.

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