Page 7 of Ruthless Vengeance
Now isn’t the time for doubts. All that matters is getting Clara back, no matter what.
I step out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind me, and head down the stairs to where Andre is waiting for me in the foyer.
“We need to go, Marco.”
I nod as I reach for my gun.
It’s time to go and get my girl.
As we speedthrough the dark, empty streets toward Lakeview Drive, my body hums.
I wish Andre had let me drive just to give me something else to focus on other than my thoughts.
I bounce my knee up and down as I check my gun for the third time just for something to do.
Neither Andre nor I speak, though I have no doubt the same question plagues both of our thoughts.
What if we’re already too late?
I wrap my fingers around my gun as I stare out the window.
Andre presses his foot harder on the gas, but it doesn’t feel fast enough.
I can’t stop picturing Clara with her hands tied, her delicate body covered in bruises as she bleeds from multiple wounds.
Tommaso is a sick fuck. He will take delight in making her suffer because it will only add to the thrill of the game.
“She’s strong,” Andre says suddenly, as if he can hear my thoughts spiraling. “You know she is.”
Of course, I know that.
Clara is the strongest person I’ve ever known, but strength doesn’t stop a bullet. She’s no match for Tommaso.
“She sacrificed herself for them,” I say quietly, almost to myself.
I keep replaying what Rosa told me in the cabin, trying to make sense of it.
The fact that Clara was willing to offer herself up to those bastards in order to protect my family is admirable, but if it costs her her own life…
“You’d have done the same.”
I would. Still… “That’s not the point.”
“Then what is?”
I don’t answer, not when my chest is caving in as I imagine a life without Clara.
As the warehouse complex comes into view, my heart starts to hammer in my chest as it pumps my body with adrenaline.
Under the harsh yellow security lights, there’s nothing but piles of rusted metal and rundown buildings. It’s the sort of place nobody would pay attention to, which makes it that much more dangerous.
We kill the headlights half a block out and park under the cover of an old loading dock, out of sight, as a swarm of black SUV’s drive in behind us.
“Cillian really came through.” I count at least two dozen men climbing out.
Andre’s eyes are in the buildings ahead of us. “Think she’s really in there?”
I swallow hard. “Only one way to find out.”
