Page 40 of Captured Fantasy

“Get in here! Get in here!” I yelled. “Mads, get in here! I can’t cover you.”

I shot into the dark again as Amadeo vaulted to his feet and ran to me, hitting the door and staggering back into the warehouse. I followed him, slamming the door and turning the lock. Amadeo was already running to the back where the weaponry was located.

“The warehouse walls won’t hold the bullets, we have to get into the safe room,” I yelled.

“We have to protect the weapons,” Amadeo roared.

“This isn’t fucking worth it,” I roared, taking off toward the inner room in the backroom. “I’m sending the men to the safety room.”

He didn’t reply as he disappeared into the weapon locker. The men were already in the safety room, their pistols and rifles out and their faces tense. Sweat glittered on their brows and their bodies were tight with anticipation.

“We do not go out there, you copy? We do not go out there until I say,” I ordered, my hands shockingly steady as I pulled my phone from my pocket. “I can keep you alive in here, but fuck if I can out there.”

I stood in the doorway, between the front entrance and the men behind me and called Lucien. It rang…and rang…and went to voicemail. I hung up, cursing under my breath, and called again. This time it picked up on the fourth ring.

“What the fuck, Barone?” Lucien said, his voice thick with sleep.

“We have a code red on Warehouse A. We’re under attack,” I breathed. “Elio is down, I have the men in the safety room. Amadeo is in the weapon’s locker.”

Something clattered in the background and I heard Lucien’s feet hit the floor. “How many are there?”

“Could be one, could be a hundred,” I said. “Sniper took out Elio, but they’re not here for us. They’re here for the product, they have to be.”

“I’m on my way,” Lucien said. “Protect the product, but don’t fucking die, Barone. Got it?”

An earsplitting crash sounded through the warehouse and the rolling front door dented in. On the other side, an engine revved and with excruciating slowness, the door gave way, crumpling to reveal an enormous truck. They were in and we were fucking doomed if Lucien didn’t get here within the next ten minutes.

Heart thumping in my throat, I opened fire on the truck, splitting the windshield and emptying my magazine. A man in gray tactical clothes leaned out the window and unloaded a pistol, not bothering to aim. I ducked into the safe room, kicking the door halfway shut to shield the men inside. Sweat poured down my forehead and I ran my arm over my eyes, trying to keep it from blinding me. My hands were steady as I locked my second magazine in place.

Gunshot sounded, pinging against the bulletproof wall. If we stayed inside and fired on them, we could probably make it until Lucien arrived with backup. But Amadeo was in the weaponry and he had no protection and no bulletproof walls to keep him safe.

I leaned out the door for a split second. The truck was idling and there were more men in gray pouring through the door. I flicked my eyes over them, counting at least three dozen. Jesus Christ, Lucien needed to get here now.

My heart was pounding so fast in my chest it felt like my ribs would splinter from it. I’d been trained to fight, but never had I faced anything like this and I wasn’t prepared for it. I had six shots left in my Glock and a remaining magazine and no way to get to the weapon room without exposing myself.

“Think,” I breathed, squeezing my eyes shut and shaking my head to clear the sweat dripping into my lashes.

Bullets hit the other side of the wall and I leaned out again, emptying my magazine into the crowd of men. As I drew back, I saw two of the gray figures fall and then I ducked back inside. My phone rang and I ripped it from my pocket, hitting the speaker button.

“Amadeo,” I gasped. “Lucien is on his way, but he needs to get here fucking fast.”

“They’ve seen me, I need you to cover me so I can get to you,” he said, his voice laced with panic.

“I can’t cover you out there,” I barked. “You fucking stay there.”

“I have seconds—I have fucking seconds before they start over here,” he breathed. “I’m going out. For fuck’s sake, cover me.”

The world exploded into mayhem. I dove around the corner, emptying my last magazine, and for some ungodly reason, every one of my men poured out of the safe room and started shooting. My pulse was racing so fast it was a sharp pain in my throat and from somewhere came a high-pitched whine. Bullets zipped by me, one stinging my hand, and I fell to my knees.

Fuck, this was it. I lifted my head and directly in front of me was Paolo Venetti. Our eyes locked and the world stilled. Then his body jerked, flopping like a rag doll, and a bullet tore through his cheek. Destroying his face and sending him spinning onto his back. In a fucking heap on the ground, like he’d been slammed into the pavement from above.

All the air shot from my lungs and the world went quiet. From somewhere to my left, I caught a glimpse of fire in the corner of my eye. Jesus, it was right by the product, creeping toward it like an incoming serpent. I stood frozen, watching it move across the floor. There was another scent and it roiled my stomach. It was like meat, but the foulest kind of unseasoned animal flesh I could imagine. It didn’t take me more than a second to realize it wasn’t animal at all. There was a body somewhere in those flames.

The smell jerked me back to reality and I rolled onto my stomach, bracing my heels so I could scramble back and struggle to my feet. Amadeo fell against the wall beside me, partially shielded by the edge of the weapon room, and pressed another Glock into my hand.

“One magazine,” he breathed, pushing it at me.

I slipped it into my holster, dropped the magazine from the Glock to check it, and knocked it back inside with the heel of my hand. Across the room, a man leaned out of the truck with an AK-47. My chest constricted. I needed to do something or he was going to mow my men down.

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