Page 102 of Bloody Vows
As we drive, I can't stop thinking about that photo. About the fear in Simone's eyes, fear that I know they must have threatened her with horrible things to draw out. My wife is many things—stubborn, infuriating, beautiful beyond words—but she's not weak. She'll fight Sal every step of the way, which means he'll hurt her to make her comply.
The SUVs park far enough down to avoid detection. We spill out of the cars into the greying light, moving as quickly and silently as this many men can as we head toward the address, fanning out. I see three men guarding the front of the house, and motion to two of our men up front.
They move out, sneaking in behind the patrol. With quick movements—hands over mouths, knives as weapons—they silence the guards and drop their dead bodies carefully to the ground. The rest of us move forward, past the backyard of another ruined house, and toward the fence at the back of our target. In the overgrown grass to the left, I think I see a snake slither past, but I ignore it.
The only snake I’m interested in is the one keeping my wife captive.
As we move through the gate and toward the back door, I hear voices murmuring. And then, cutting through the dawn air like a knife, I hear Simone scream.
A woman’s scream, but I know it’s hers. The sound hits me like a physical blow, and suddenly I'm not thinking tactically anymore. I'm not the man who was raised to be a calculating killer. I'm just a man whose wife is in danger, and nothing else matters.
"Move," I snarl, and we're running toward the building.
The first guard never sees us coming. Vitto puts a bullet in his head before he can even reach for his weapon. The second guard manages to get his gun halfway out of its holster before I put two rounds in his chest.
We breach the main entrance, spreading out to cover all angles. The house is bigger than it looked from the outside, but it’s one story, and we fan out, covering as much space as we can as we move down the hallways. Another guard appears arounda corner, and I don't even slow down. I put a bullet between his eyes and keep moving, my men covering my flanks as we advance through the building.
The voices are getting louder now, and I can make out Sal's voice among them. He's giving orders, telling someone to hurry up. The urgency in his tone makes my blood run cold.
We reach a hallway with three doors, and I can hear Simone's voice coming from behind one of them. She's arguing with someone, her voice strained but still defiant. Still fighting.
I signal to my men, and we move in around the door, with me signaling that on a count of three, we’re going in fast and hard. But before I can give the signal, I hear Simone scream again, and this time there's real terror in it.
Fuck the plan. Fuck tactics.
I slam my weight into the door, kicking it open as I charge into the room, gun up and ready to shoot. The scene that greets me is something out of my worst nightmares.
Simone is handcuffed to a bed, naked and struggling against her bonds. There's an older man leaning over her with a medical bag open beside him, and I can see a packet of pills opened. Anger seethes through me.
Sal didn’t need to strip her for what he had planned, but he did it anyway. To shame her. To scare her. To make it all so much worse.
And I have no idea yet if she’s been forced to take the pills or not.
The rage that fills me is unlike anything I've ever experienced. It's not the cold, calculated anger I'm used to. It's hot and primal and all-consuming, and it turns me into something barely human.
I put three bullets in the doctor before he can even turn around. He drops like a stone, his blood spattering across the medical instruments.
Sal is standing near the foot of the bed, and his face goes white when he sees me. He's reaching for a gun, but he's too slow. I'm already moving, crossing the room in three quick strides as my men take out the others in the room, gunshots cracking through the air as I head straight for the man who thought he could hurt my wife and live through it.
I grab him by the throat and slam him against the wall hard enough to crack the plaster. His gun clatters to the floor, forgotten. Behind me, I hear two more shots and then silence.
"You made a mistake," I growl, my face inches from his. "You touched what's mine."
Further out in the house, I can hear my men engaging with Sal's remaining guards. Gunfire echoes through the building, but I barely register it. All my attention is focused on the piece of shit in my hands.
"Tristan," Simone's voice cuts through my rage, and I turn to look at her. She's still handcuffed to the bed, but she's alive. She's safe. "The keys," she says, nodding toward Sal. "He has the keys to the handcuffs."
"Vitto!" I shout.
"Clear!" comes the response from the corridor. "Building's secure, boss. We got them all."
I wait for Vitto and three more men to come into the room, all of them carefully averting their eyes from Simone as they surround Sal, weapons out. Damian strides in with them, an expression of cold fury on his face as he strides toward Sal. Only then do I holster my weapon and move to unlock Simone's handcuffs. Her wrists are raw from struggling against the metal, and there are bruises on her arms where Sal's men grabbed her. Each mark is another reason why Sal is going to die slowly.
"Are you hurt?" I ask, helping her sit up on the bed. I grab the blanket, yanking it free of the mattress to wrap around her. "Did they—did he?—"
"I'm okay," she says quickly, though I can see the lie in her eyes. She's not okay. She's terrified and traumatized and probably in shock. But she's alive, and that's what matters. "The baby—they didn’t make me take the pills yet, but Sal wasn’t gentle, and the chloroform?—"
"We're getting you to a hospital," I tell her, shrugging out of my jacket to wrap it around her shoulders. "Right now."
