Page 62 of Taking What's Mine

I fire a shot that pings off the ground near his foot. “Where are they?” I demand, choking on emotion. “Where’s Isabel?”

He smirks, backing away slowly. “Fuck you. Lazarus has other plans?—”

A deafening crack interrupts him. A bullet tears past, fired from somewhere behind me, and Morris throws himself down, scrambling behind a crate. I dash forward, determined to corner him. But then I hear a new round of gunfire, closer, from the direction of a green container.

“Lincoln!” a voice calls. Dean’s voice, coming through my earpiece. “We’re at the container. Hurry, I think it’s them. Shots fired inside or near it.”

My blood runs cold.Shots firednear the container holding Isabel. Without a second thought, I pivot away from Morris, ignoring his furious shout. My boots pound the asphalt, lungs burning. Figures surge around me—cops, security men, more of Lazarus’s goons. Everything’s chaos. I duck behind another forklift, weaving past a policeman yelling at me to get down.

Finally, I spot Dean’s silhouette near the green container, muzzle flash illuminating his stance as he exchanges shots with a cluster of men. A forklift with cargo spears sits abandoned, smoke drifting from its engine. My heart nearly stops—this has to be where they’re holding Isabel. Sophia, too, hopefully. The men attempt to hold off Dean, but he dispatches two quickly. Another tries to run, only to be tackled by one of Dean’s men.

“Dean!” I shout, sliding to a stop next to him, breath ragged. “Is she?—?”

He jabs a thumb toward the container door, which stands partially open. “In there, I think,” he gasps, face drawn with worry. “Morris’s men retreated inside. Let’s move!”

Together, we rush the container. Bullets whiz past from a final holdout on the opposite side, but Dean’s men lay down covering fire, forcing them to duck. I press my back to the container’s steel wall, inching toward the opening. My heart rams against my ribs.Isabel,I chant silently.Be okay, be okay.

We pivot around the door frame, weapons raised. Inside, it’s dimly lit by a few overhead lamps and the harsh glow of an open exit on the far side. I see a welded cage area in the center.My throat tightens. A figure stands near the cage, brandishing a handgun, hair disheveled—Morris. He must’ve slipped in here through a side route.

And beyond him, two shadows. My breath catches. Isabel and Sophia. They look battered, clothes torn. I see the faint glint of metal at Isabel’s feet—a piece of pipe or something. My heart leaps with relief and terror all at once.

Morris notices me. He wheels around, aiming at the women. “Stay back!” he snarls, stepping closer to them. I see the madness in his eyes, the willingness to do anything.

“Morris, it’s over,” I say, voice rough. “We have men everywhere, the police are here. Drop the gun.”

He laughs, a cracked, desperate sound, flicking his gaze between me and the women. “Not until I’ve made Dean pay. This is the price for messing with Lazarus Delgado’s family.”

I inch forward, keeping my weapon trained. Dean flanks me, gun raised as well. “Morris, you can still walk out of this alive if you let them go,” Dean says, voice icy. “Or you can face me with a bullet in your skull.”

But Morris is too unhinged to listen. He lifts his pistol toward Sophia, who’s pressed against the cage bars, eyes wide with fear. My stomach lurches.No.I can’t let him pull that trigger.

Just then, Isabel darts forward, surprising all of us. She lunges with the pipe—maybe it’s a loose bar from the cage—swinging it at Morris’s wrist. He yells, recoiling. The shot he fires goes wild, ricocheting off the container wall. Sparks rain down.

Sophia uses that moment to slam her shoulder into Morris, toppling him. He staggers, face twisted with rage. He tries tolevel his gun again, but Isabel bashes his forearm a second time. The weapon skitters across the floor, out of reach. Furious, Morris lunges for her, but Sophia grabs his arm, twisting him around. Together, the two women wrestle him to the ground in a flurry of motion.

I leap in, adrenaline roaring. My hands clamp onto Morris’s shoulders, yanking him away from them. He snarls, thrashing, but I slam him face-first against the metal floor, my knee on his back. “Enough!” I growl. He heaves and spits curses, but I keep him pinned.

Isabel scrambles backward, breath ragged, tears streaking her face. I catch her gaze for an instant. Relief and exhaustion war across her features. Sophia crouches next to her, eyes brimming with tears.

Dean rushes up behind me, panting, gun drawn. He sees Sophia, sees her battered state, and a choked sound leaves his throat. He nearly trips over in his haste to get to her. “Soph,” he gasps, dropping to his knees beside her. She collapses into his arms, sobbing. He holds her, face etched with raw emotion. “I’m here, I’ve got you,” he breathes.

Morris struggles under my weight, but my hold doesn’t waver. “They’ll kill you for this,” he rasps, voice muffled against the floor. “Lazarus?—”

“Lazarus is done,” I snap, though I’m not sure if that’s fully true. But in this moment, I need the bastard in front of me to understand I’m not letting him slip away. “We got the police. Your men are down, you lost.”

He curses, thrashing, but I keep him pinned until two uniformed cops burst in, guns raised. They rush over, hooking handcuffs around his wrists while I step off. My shoulders sag with relief.

My attention snaps to Isabel. She’s shaking, eyes glistening. I rush over, gently lifting her chin to check for injuries. My heart cracks at the bruises and the fear in her eyes. “Iz,” I whisper, voice thick, “you’re safe now.”

She lets out a ragged sob, flinging her arms around me. The tension in my chest breaks. I bury my face in her hair, cradling her trembling form against me. Her warmth, the smell of sweat and tears—every second is a confirmation that she’s alive, that we made it in time.

“I was so scared,” she mumbles into my shoulder. “He… Lazarus… they said they’d ship us abroad—” Another sob wracks her. “I thought you’d never find us.”

I press my lips to her temple, breathing in the reality of her presence. “I promised I’d protect you,” I rasp. My own tears sting the corners of my eyes, but I blink them away. “I’m sorry it took so long.”

She just clings to me, crying softly. Over her head, I see Sophia clutched in Dean’s arms, tears flowing from both of them. Morris is dragged away by the police, cursing. More officers flood the container, guns drawn, while Dean’s security men hold position outside, ensuring no one else from Lazarus’s crew tries anything.

I close my eyes, relief flooding me so powerfully my legs threaten to give out. Isabel is safe. Sophia is safe. All that’s left is to finish cleaning up this nightmare. But for now, I can only hold Isabel, letting the swirling chaos of police and paramedics swirl aroundus. Her sobs subside into ragged breathing, and she pulls back, teary eyes searching mine.

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