Page 38 of Wrathful King
“Then everyone is happy,” I deadpanned.
“Or he could be playing along just to appease us,” he cut in wryly.
Was this a fucking game of yoyo? I was two seconds away from losing my shit, and Dante’s pep talk wasn’t helping. I cracked my neck.Keep it fucking together. For her.
Warfare raged in my head. Setting my jaw, I stared out the plane window, seeing nothing but darkness—one that matched my soul. Unleashing it meant tearing into anyone around me, including Dante if he didn’t stop talking stupid.
I inhaled a deep breath when Kian’s voice cut through my thoughts. “Amon, you need to see this. It’s not pretty, but you have to.”
My stomach twisted. “Is it Reina?”
Kian nodded. Was I strong enough to see it? I didn’t know, but I couldn’t look away. Not when my wife was living through who knew what type of hell.
“Amon?” Dante pressed.
I reached for his pack of cigarettes, snatched one out of the packet, and lit up. So much for preaching to my brother.
He opened his mouth to speak. “Don’t,” I warned, my voice hoarse.
His mouth snapped shut and he nodded, looking back at Kian who clicked a button and turned the laptop our way. The video was time-stamped over three weeks ago. Fucking three weeks.
It didn’t have any audio, but it didn’t change the fact that two men were attacking her. My hands balled into fists as I watched Perez drug her, feeling helpless as fuck.
“Is that—” Dante started but then stopped.
“Perez Cortes,” I gritted. “I thought the fucker didn’t leave Brazil.”
“He left for her,” Kian muttered. Then I watched them shove her into a cage and tie her up like a goddamn animal. Bile swirled in my stomach alongside a whirlpool of anger as I waited for him to assault her.
I forced myself to watch, my teeth clenching harder and harder until every bone in my jaw threatened to break.
“He won’t rape her,” Kian cut in, flicking me a worried glance. “Not while unconscious.”
That didn’t make me feel any better.
14
AMON
We reached the outskirts of Manaus right before nightfall. We all changed into clothing appropriate for jungle and battle.
Kian had contacts among local authorities and at the airport that would keep our entrance into the country quiet. It was thanks to him that everything was coordinated efficiently.
Eight Jeeps waited for us as we disembarked the plane. Once outside, Kian gave a silent nod to our dress code. Black shirts and cargo pants. “Smart. The jungle gets cold at night.”
It was Kian, Darius, Dante, and me, along with ten of our best men, including the Callahan twins. For some crazy reason, those two loved explosives and were in charge of blowing up the place. We all agreed: get in and get out.
Romero stayed behind and so did Illias and Marchetti. We couldn’t risk most of the Omertà being wiped out in one go if shit went south.
“How far to the target location?”How far is she?I glanced at Darius, who was dressed in military gear. Despite my dislike of him, I had to admit I was glad he was here and on our side.
“Three hours.” Kian pulled a map up on his satellite device. “It’ll be jungle terrain from here. We’ll stop about five miles out, then make the rest of the journey on foot.” He pointed to the spot on the map. “Once we have her, one of my men will head our way with the vehicles.”
“What is this? A fucking prison in the middle of the jungle?” Dante’s eyes were glued to the screen.
“Perez is a paranoid motherfucker, and so was my father. When he selected this spot, he ensured the setup would make it practically impossible to penetrate.”
“But lucky for us, you know some ways in and out,” Darius deadpanned. “I fucking hope.”
