Vlad reloaded his gun while the enemies’ terrified screams rent the air.
“Status?!” he barked into his comm.
“North block secured,” one of his men replied tersely. “Moving to support Team Two.”
“We’ve got eyes on Isaacs!” Cortes’s voice crackled in Vlad’s earpiece. “Second floor office. He’s—shit!”
Popo squawked in the background.
The connection cut out at the same time a detonation shook the building.
Vlad’s stomach dropped, his gaze swiveling in the direction of the east block. “Cortes?!”
The only answer he got was a bunch of static. Movement to his left had him twisting sharply and bringing his gun up. He relaxed fractionally when he recognized three of his men.
“The Colombian needs backup,” he told them urgently. “Get to the east block. Take a team with you.”
They nodded and moved out.
Vlad scanned the warehouse, his jaw tight. Something was interfering with their comms. More worryingly, he hadn’t heard from Delphine in over ten minutes.
Tarang made a soft sound as he returned to his side and bumped his leg. Vlad touched the tiger’s head briefly.
“I know. Let’s go find her.” He turned to theBlack Devilsmen with him. “Keep them occupied. I’m going to check out the west block.”
The guards exchanged wary glances.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, boss,” one of them said. “We promised Ilya and Milo nothing would happen to you.”
“I’ll be fine. Tarang’s with me.”
Vlad didn’t wait for their answer.
They watched uneasily as he and Tarang melted into the shadows.
The sound of gunfire faded as Vlad crossed the warehouse toward the location of the storage area, Tarang a silent shape by his side. They’d just passed the halfway point when movement ahead made him freeze.
The hairs lifted on the back of his neck.
Tarang stopped and growled.
A masked figure emerged from the gloom, moonlight gleaming off the weapon in his hand.
Vlad’s pulse quickened. It was a saber. One he recognized.
“Well, well.” The man’s amused voice carried across the space between them, his accent telling. “If it isn’t theBlack Devils’ powerless heir.”
Vlad’s fingers whitened on his gun. The suspicion he’d had since meeting Navarro solidified into certainty.
“Santana Isaacs, I presume?”
The man ignored his deadly tone, his stance relaxed as he approached. “I’m surprised you made the connection so fast.” He reached up and removed his mask.
Vlad’s stomach churned with rage when he finally saw the face of the man who’d had him cursed.
“What did you do to Cortes?!”
Santana smirked. “Oh, your sorcerer friend? I buried him and your men under a pile of rubble. Pretty sure I killed his annoying parrot too.”