Page 33 of Broken Innocence
Swift shots to the forehead and heart down each man with a thump to the ground. Hugo and I step over the corpses to test the door. Unlocked.
“What the fuck?” I mutter under my breath. This feels too easy, which has my hackles rising. Nothing in our world runs this smoothly.
A quick search of the building reveals it’s empty, which explains the lack of security detail, but the three rooms decked out like a spa retreat makes me think Eden’s hunch about women being forced to film is right.
“What is all this?” Hugo asks, picking up a bottle of eucalyptus oil, sniffing it, then setting it down with a wrinkle of his nose.
“Not sure yet. Let’s check out the back by the docks.”
As soon as we’re outside again, the sound of voices cracks the air, becoming louder the closer we get. So, this is where all of Fabian’s men are—guarding two shipping containers that I can only imagine has the missing women.
“Fuck,” Hugo breathes.
“My sentiments exactly.” Reaching into my pocket, I text Dmitri that we need backup from Blackthorn. Hugo and I are good,deadly, but there’s no way we can take out a contingent of men and rescue whoever’s in those containers. Luca is next on my list to notify of this new development.
Despite being happily ensconced in his newlywed bubble, he’ll want to know about this. He’ll want a chance to disrupt his half-brother’s disgusting operation, even if he and Eden only landed back in Boston mere hours ago from their honeymoon trip to Italy.
My phone lights up with a message, but instead of Dmitri’s or Luca’s confirmation, it’s a text from Valerie—the curvy journalist intent on exposing my politician father for the fraud he is.
She’s also the woman you shouldn’t have kissed.
I’ve been blaming high emotions after she was almost killed during a meeting with me, Mathias, and Allie, but the excuse is flimsy at best. Emotions have never clouded my judgment before, even in ambush situations like what happened at that cafe with Valerie.
VALERIE:The article will go to print in a month. My editor wants to wait until we’re closer to the election date to really screw with your dad. Can’t say I’m excited to wait, though.
ME:Join the club, tiger, but patience is key. He’ll get what’s coming to him.
VALERIE:So bloodthirsty. LOL
My little tiger has no idea…
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
LUCA
That evil bastard.
Fabian is fucked in the head, so the fact that he’s involved in the flesh trade isn’t a total surprise. You’d think after a childhood of violent lessons where Conrad taught us how to murder and manipulate men that nothing would shock me anymore.
But the sight of these shipping containers being filled with women is hard to watch.
And, to think, Eden accidently discovered this entire operation based on weird videos on the internet and a victim's bracelet.
When Jonah texted me, I’d slipped from our bed to dress and drive to the docks for the takedown. The flight from Italy to Massachusetts had been long, and Eden fell asleep almost immediately upon our arrival at the manor—Beanie snuggled close to her chest.
Never one to be far from my wife, I’d joined them for a nap until Jonah’s late-night message.
“Nathaniel and his team are in position. Everyone ready?” Dmitri took point the moment he arrived at the docks withBlackthorn reinforcements. Affirmatives ring out over the comm line, and anticipation buzzes through my veins, a live wire prepared to burst free and wreak havoc.
Tonight will be another dose of payback to Fabian for what he did to Eden, since I already dealt with the thugs who hurt her. It’ll also serve as a foreshadowing of what’s to come for the entire D’Amora organization, then The Syndicate.
Take no prisoners. Total decimation.
Dmitri gives the signal. He and I flank one container while Jonah and Hugo move to another. The D’Amora guards aren’t expecting trouble based on the lazy way they lounge around the dock. I wonder how many shipments have passed through here without a hitch for them to be so comfortable.
The likelihood of dozens of victims causes bile to rise in my throat, but I swallow it down, focusing on what I can control—saving these women tonight—versus what might have happened in the past.
Sneaking up behind a man lighting a cigarette, my knife slices across his carotid artery in a whisper-soft swish. A gurgle of blood follows before he drops to the ground. Like a game of dominos, each unlucky D’Amora bastard tumbles until only Blackthorn men remain in a field of bloody bodies.
