I know what I probably look like, but I don’t fucking care. The only thing I care about now is finding Budimir and pulling the bastard’s black heart right out of his chest.
I scan the area for my uncle.
Looking, looking… there.
I dart across the street, and I raise my gun to the shrieks and screams of the people walking past. They alert Budimir to my presence, and he darts behind a cement pillar that takes the bullet meant for him.
“Fuck!” I roar.
Budimir jumps into his armored vehicle.
I race forward, ignoring the terrified people fleeing the scene, but I know that I won’t be able to get Budimir now.
The car roars out into the street. I jump back, narrowly avoiding being struck.
Then I hear Budimir’s voice carry towards me from the open sunroof of the car.
“I’ll take good care of your wife and son,” he bellows.
Then he’s gone.
I stand there as Budimir’s words hit me square in the face. It feels as though he’s struck me, and suddenly, the pain of my physical wounds disappears underneath the acute fear of what I have yet to lose.
“Fuck!” I yell furiously.
I double back and head back to the Regency’s lot, where Adrik and the rest of my men are pulling out, along with the men the O’Sullivans deployed.
I jump into the first car with Adrik.
“Safehouse,” I reply. “Now.”
I turn in my seat and spy Maxim’s body in the back. He would almost look peaceful if it weren’t for the sheen of blood that almost completely obscures his features.
I grimace yet again.
Cillian. Maxim. Stanislav.
Too many good men dead because of my uncle. Far, far too many.
“What’s his wife’s name?” I ask.
“Lena,” Adrik answers softly. “He’s got two girls.”
I catch sight of Luka then. “What the fuck are you doing here?” I demand. “Where the hell is Svetlana?”
“She insisted on staying in the field,” Luka tells me. “She told me to tell you that her position hasn’t been compromised yet. Budimir had two men assigned to her, and they took her away as soon as the fighting started.”
“She went with them?” I ask.
“She did,” Luka says. “Don’t worry; they didn’t see me.”
I know this information should leave me feeling like I have the upper hand again, but it doesn’t.
He has my wife.
He has my son.
The grim reality of those facts repeat in my head, over and over again, a mantra that has me unravelling.