Page 185 of Taming Seraphine

Sal crawls up the winding roads, gripping the steering wheel as though that’s the only thing stopping the car from careening down the side of the hill. No matter how many times I call, Miko’s phone still goes straight to voicemail. I can’t shake off the image of Samson torturing Seraphine.

“Faster,” I growl, my fingers curling around the device. “We have to reach her before it’s too late.”

“I’m trying,” he says, his gaze fixed on the road ahead.

The car lurches forward, making the tires screech around the corner. I grab hold of the handle above my head and brace myself for another sharp turn.

The distant sound of gunshots offers zero reassurance. I knew Roman would pull through with his men, but if Seraphine gets hurt in the crossfire...

Bright light from an oncoming vehicle fills the windshield, and I have to squint against the glare. Sal slams on the brakes and swerves to the side, avoiding a head-on collision. Pain shoots through my abdomen as the seat belt digs into my wound, making me hiss.

“You okay?” Sal shoots me a worried glance.

“Fine,” I grind out through gritted teeth. “Keep going.”

We round another bend, and I catch sight of activity within the trees. Vehicles are parked haphazardly, with men advancing toward a mansion already alight with gunfire.

“Stop the car.” I unbuckle my seatbelt, already opening the door before Sal can park.

“I’ll wait for you here,” he yells as I rush into the trees.

The canopy blocks out the moonlight, but I’m guided by the sight and sound of gunfire. I run toward the building, each step hitting like a sucker punch to my wound. Pushing past the excruciating pain, I pull out my gun and run through the twisted scraps of metal Romans trucks have made of the gate.

His men have already breached the mansion’s front doors and have littered its grand foyer with corpses. Movement out of the corner of my eye has me swinging my pistol to the left. Roman steps out of a doorway with a semi-automatic.

He lowers his weapon and smirks. “You’re late.”

“What’s the situation?” I rush toward the staircase with Roman following close behind.

“We’ve taken out most of his guys. Samson either fled at the first sign of trouble or he and some guards are holed up behind a fortified door on the third floor.”

Shit.

If it’s as well-guarded as the basement where I found Seraphine, the security will be impenetrable. “Any other ways in?”

He flicks his head toward the front door. “There’s a balcony.”

“Show me.”

Roman runs outside, and I follow suit, having to clutch my wound to absorb the impact of my steps. We race around to the back of the building, where one of his trucks has barreled through the rose garden, and men in bullet proof armor scale a woody vine covering the wall toward an iron balcony.

My gaze snaps up to the balcony and a pair of Samson’s guards pointing automatic weapons downward, hindering their progress. I shake my head. They’re going about this the wrong way.

“Cesare wants to end this siege with a bazooka,” Roman mutters.

“Where is he?” I growl.

“I sent him home.”

Good. I always preferred dealing with Benito and Roman. Cesare is a brat who never thinks further than satisfying his own temper. His plan would wipe out the last Capello, but it would also kill Miko and Seraphine.

“I’m beginning to think Cesare has a point,” Roman says. “Those assholes have been shooting down on my men for ten minutes straight and still haven’t run out of ammo.”

My jaw tightens, and I squint up toward the balcony. Samson’s men are well protected, but not completely. They’ve lifted their visors to get a better view of the climbers, and I catch glimpses of their necks between their helmets and the collars of their armor.

“Order your guys to retreat to the van,” I mutter.

Roman passes on the commands to one of his men, who sprints toward the others trying to scale the walls. Then he turns to me and asks, “What’s the plan?”

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