Page 80 of Cage the Storm
Luna catches me, palm flat over my chest, right over my racing heart. “Antonio!”
“No.” I grip her arm, the heat of her skin anchoring me when everything else is slipping away. “We move now. D’Angelo will transfer her soon.”
“You can’t even walk?—”
I cut her off the only way I know how. A kiss, ferocious and desperate with promise.
“Watch me.”
The door slams open. My mother.
She holds up her phone, face pale as a ghost. A video plays—Bria, gagged, a pistol pressed to her temple.
A voice rasps through the static. “An eye for an eye, Nicolai. Come alone, or she joins Dante.”
I freeze, but blood boils in my veins. My world spins, my vision pulls inward, darkening at the edges. Voices fade, and all that remains is rage.
Luna grabs my face, dragging my focus back to her. “Look at me. This is a trap.”
“I know.” My voice hollow.
Then I grip the back of her neck, pulling her in, crashing against her lips like I’m drowning, because maybe I am. Our kiss is a silent scream of everything I can’t voice.I’m sorry. This isn’t enough. Forgive me.Her fingers grip my shirt, anchoring me to her, as if she already knows it’s goodbye.
I force myself to pull away, breathing hard. “I promise youamore mio,” my voice is raw, “the next time you see me, we will be free.”
“And we both know how good you are at keeping your promises, right, Nico?” I blow out a breath, shaking my head.
“Keep talking, Luna.” She gives me a crooked smile, eyes glassy. Like she’s daring me to keep my promise.
“Oh, I intend to.” Then I turn and leave, because if I don’t, I won’t survive walking away.
Blood surges through my veins the moment I step outside, not from fear, not from pain, but from rage. Bria is out there, waiting. Terrified. And I will carve through every last D’Angelo bastard and soldier standing between us.
I shove a fresh clip into my Glock, jaw locked so tight it aches. Mateo is at my side, gun loaded, eyes dark with vengeance. My men are just waiting for my command.
Enzo’s voice crackles through the burner. “They’re moving her soon. Three SUVs, a dozen men inside, and guards on the outside. Some are ex-military.”
Good. It wouldn’t be a fight without bloodshed. And I can guarantee you it won’t be my sisters either.
I roll my shoulders, forcing my body to comply. The bruises, the broken ribs, they don’t matter. Not tonight.
“We cut them off before they reach the convoy.” Mateo gives a curt nod.
“We kill them fast. No survivors.” No hesitation.
Not until Bria is back in my arms.
The SUV sways as we take a tight turn, nearing the abandoned church. My fingers tighten around the grip of my pistol.
The van screeches to a halt, the scent of burning rubber mixing with the bitter cold. Mateo wastes no time. His voice clipped, commanding, slicing through the tension as he gestures to the men.
“Ronan, flank left. Two on the back entrance. No one gets out.”
The men split up, moving like ghosts in the dark, silent and deadly. Weapons click, safeties flicking off, adrenaline humming through the air.
I step out onto the pavement, the wind biting, the cold gnawing at the wounds I refuse to feel. My ribs scream with each movement, my vision swims if I turn too fast, but none of it matters. Not when Bria is inside that church, terrified. Not when the bastards who captured me and my wife and burned my villa to the ground think they still hold control.
Mateo looks at me, his expression like granite. “We breach fast and loud.” I jerk my chin once.
