Page 40 of Operation Wolf: Eli
“They got to your apartment,” Gunner said tersely. “Guess they wanted to send a message. It’s not—”
Dread filled me as I pushed past Gunner, knowing full well just how horrible one of the Outfit’s messages could be. Ignoring the rest of what Gunner was saying, I rushed over the threshold and pushed past the rest of the guys waiting inside. They turned as one to stare at me.
But I ignored them.
All I saw was the smashed pieces of glass and wood and ceramic scattered all over the carpet and linoleum. My couches had been slashed to ribbons. Every single plate in my kitchen cupboards had been shattered, my pots dented. There were holes in the walls, likely made from smashing kitchenware or furniture into the plaster. Someone had done a very good job of ruining the place.
But the worst of it was not the wreckage. It was the black-and-white photos pasted on every available surface.
Photos of Olivia, lying faceup on a wooden floor with a white cloth over her mouth. Another with her bent over a desk with her legs spread and her hands tied behind her back, clearly unconscious and still clothed, but the message was clear enough. One more showed her tied to a chair with duct tape covering her mouth, her head tipped back. Her eyes were closed, but I could still see tears glistening on her lashes and the tear tracks marring her beautiful skin.
Instantly, my inner wolf beast broke free, and I howled, bursting forward and shredding each and every picture as I snatched them all down. My claws gouged more holes in the walls and furniture. I grabbed what was left of the couch and began smashing it to bits.
“Eli!” I heard someone shout from a distance, but I paid no attention.
“Eli, stop!” Someone grabbed me.
I whirled around with fury and raked my claws across my assailant’s face.
“Motherfucker!” the person yelled.
A fist plowed into my face, knocking me straight off my feet and onto my ass. The pungent smell of blood hit my nostrils, and abruptly, my vision cleared to see Hunter standing above me, clutching his bleeding face. Jordan and Matt quickly came around to restrain me, and I didn’t protest. Horror curdled in my gut as I gaped at Hunter’s raw, bleeding face.
“You miserable bastard,” Hunter snarled, dropping his hand.
Three claw marks slashed from his left temple down to his right jawline, and I could see a white flash of bone where the bridge of Hunter’s nose should have been.
“Fuck! I’m sorry,” I said, aching with guilt. “Shit.”
“It’s all good,” Jordan said, giving me a comforting pat on the shoulder. “We all know you’re under a bit of stress right now, and Hunter knows jumping you like that was a dumbass move.”
“Yeah, well, I just wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to destroy the evidence,” Hunter grumbled, snatching a rag from a black duffel bag on the counter and using it to wipe the rest of the blood off his face. The gouge marks were already closing up, the exposed bone nothing but a memory, albeit a rather horrific one. “After all the time and effort I’ve put into helping this sorry SOB, I’d hate to see it go to waste.” But there was no heat in Hunter’s words, and I relaxed.
“You can let me go now, guys,” I said to Jordan and Matt. “I’m good now.” As they released me, I straightened, putting the rest of my weight on my feet and taking a step toward Hunter. “I really am sorry,” I said to Hunter, holding out my hand. “We good?”
Hunter paused, considering. “Don’t let that shit happen again,” he finally said, flashing his usual devil-may-care grin, “but, yeah, we’re good.”
We shook hands and then stepped back.
“Jesus,” Ian said. “That’s got to be the craziest thing I’ve ever seen you do, Eli.”
“You’re probably going to see worse before this is all over.” I gave Ian an apologetic look.
“All right, girls, chitchat time is over,” Gunner said, gathering us over to the granite island, which now had a huge crack in it but otherwise was intact.
Papers were spread out all over it, including a few of the photographs that had been plastered on the walls. I forced myself to swallow back the burst of rage that sparked in me at the sight of the photos, and I stationed myself near Gunner’s elbow.
“We’ve got to start making some waves if we’re ever going to carry out this retrieval operation, so get over here.” He waited until we were all gathered around the island before he continued, “So, in case anyone hasn’t figured this out, our mission has now expanded to include two targets. We’ve got Olivia—”
“Just one target,” I interrupted. “They killed Olivia’s father.”
Gunner looked up. “How do you know?”
I glanced over at Ian, who spoke up, “A source on the inside told me.”
Gunner looked at Ian suspiciously, and I cursed inwardly. I didn’t like the fact that Ian was in touch with someone on the inside, but complaining about it wasn’t going to do any good.
“I trust him,” I told Gunner. “If he says Sal Giordano is dead, then I won’t argue.”
