“He’s going to hurt her!” Her voice is raising, her fear piercing. “You have to stop him.”
But I have no time to respond. I hear my father wail behind me, pushing me aside pulling Amari in his arms.
“Mi dispiace così tanto principessa. Mi dispiace tanto,” he apologises in Italian over and over again as he holds her tight.
Amari sobs in his arms, her head buried in his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m sorry.”
He forces her to look at him with both hands. “Shh,” he coos his voice thick with emotion. “You’re safe now. No one will hurt you. I promise you.”
“Wait!” She snaps her head at me. “Lilly said to go to Plan B.”
Plan B? That means… he’s taken her. And if Amari is here, and not in the cars, he’s had her for all this time.
“She’s in the car!” I sprint to the SUV, throwing open the door and jumping inside.
As soon as I’m in, Dante and Dave hop in after me. They barely have time to close their doors before my foot slams on the accelerator and I take off, straight to the yard. Straight to unleash this fire inside me. Lilly brought my sister home, for our family, and I will never stop until I find her.
Thick blood drips down the face of Sergei’s soldier, and into his eyes. His lips are cut and swollen, forced out of shape by the beating he deserved, his body a mass of bruises and cuts. For hours, he was kept tied to the chair, without food, without water, without stopping and still he won’t talk.
“This can all end if you tell us where he’s taken her.” There is not one ounce of sympathy in my voice.
“I don’t know,” he answers, his voice weak, nearly coming to the end of his life.
Tommy doesn’t wait, he takes the sledgehammer to his other knee, the crack so loud, it echoes around the room. But he doesn’t scream, he lost energy for that a long time ago.
This is the first of Sergei’s men, but not the last. If he won’t break, there is another waiting for me.
Tommy winds up for another swing.
“Wait,” he chokes out, then coughs and blood splatters over his clothes. “I do know something.”
“Go on,” I say, stepping closer to his broken body.
The son of a bitch starts to laugh, or tries to, because it comes out more like a wounded animal. “You have wasted hours on me, and by now he’s already left the country. You lose.”
Tommy slams the hammer down on his shoulder, crushing it. He’s not laughing anymore.
“Where?” I get in his face, “Where did he leave from?”
“Fuck you.” His head sways from side to side, his eyes barely able to open.
I stand to my full length and suck in a breath, but it sounds more like a growl. He is a lost cause, he won’t talk. There’s only one last thing to do. There’s no reason to keep him alive.
I pull out my gun and press it against his forehead. “Last chance.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know.” He’s pleading now, I hear it in his voice.
But it’s the wrong answer.
I pull the trigger and the bullet rips through his skull, splattering brain and skull fragments onto the floor and walls.
“Clean this up,” I say, storming out of the warehouse.
My mind is reeling, and time running out. He couldn’t have left the country. How? We’ve been watching every possible way out. Paid our connection in customs to keep an eye out for their passports. We have eyes on his dock and the private air strips. The only way is by car, and we have been taking more and more of them out. But if they’re all in the dark like this guy, we’re no closer to figuring out how they left, and he was so sure they have.
“We are getting more of his men here soon.” Dante walks up to my side. “Someone has answers.”
“I got a feeling he's right.” I shake my head, my gut telling me the same thing.