When we pass under the last beam, I whisper, “Ready.”
“Breach!” Demitri instructs, and the four of us jump to our feet, and with exact precision, we attack.
As a guard turns in our direction, I open fire, and then all hell breaks loose at the front of the house as Demitri and Alexei enter with their men.
Winter stays by my side, and with every step I take, she matches it. Yuri takes out a guard on the balcony while Winter gets one as he comes rushing out of the house.
“Good,” I murmur as I set my sights on another guard, taking him down with a shot to the head.
“Four down,” I notify Demitri. Their gunfire sounds through the house as we enter through a sliding door.
“Blyad',” Alexei curses. “I got the son. He pissed himself.”
“Vince?” Winter asks as we move through a living room.
“Yes.”
He must’ve left St. Monarch’s after the assassination of Winter’s family.
“Don’t kill Antonio. He’s mine,” she growls.
As we turn down a hallway, we’re met with more guards, but not the amount we anticipated. Seems the Blancos weren’t expecting Winter to retaliate but to go into hiding again.
We open fire, and I take them down as quickly as I can. My heart pounds in my chest every time a gun is raised in Winter’s direction.
Suddenly, Antonio Blanco comes out of a room, holding a woman as a shield. Winter immediately starts shooting. The woman takes four bullets before Antonio shoves her toward us, making a run down some stairs.
“Coward,” I hiss as we reach the woman.
She’s gasping for air, but then Winter crouches next to her, whispering darkly, “A mother for a mother.” Winter rises to her feet then puts a bullet in the woman’s head.
“Moving to a lower level,” I advise Demitri.
“Coming your way,” he replies.
Cautiously, I descend the stairs, not knowing what we’ll be met with.
Chapter 23
WINTER
“Blyad',” Damien hisses when he catches sight of something I can’t see yet. He freezes, then says, “Stay here, Winter.”
Like hell I am!
Damien moves forward, his gun trained on someone, while shaking his head.
Refusing to miss my one chance at killing Antonio, I move forward, and then the air is ripped from my lungs.
“Cillian,” I gasp.
Antonio holds him as a shield, a gun trained against Cillian’s head.
My breathing speeds up at seeing the man I’ve mourned, still alive, albeit barely. It’s clear they’ve tortured him, his left eye swollen shut and his hands covered in blood.
He’s in bad shape, and without giving it another thought, I lift my gun.
“I will kill him,” Antonio threatens, and then I pull the trigger just as Cillian yanks free, falling to his hands and knees. My bullet hits Antonio between the eyes, and I keep firing as I move closer, in a hurry to get Cillian.
Antonio stumbles backward before he slumps to the ground. I rush to Cillian, where he’s trying to push himself up. Every breath he takes sends a wave of pain over his face as I kneel before him. Then he whispers, “Poppet.” Cillian collapses against me.
“My God,” I sob as I wrap my arms around him. “My God.” Absolute joy floods me, making my head spin as I try to process it. “Cillian.”
“All the training paid off,” he chuckles, a whistling sound escaping him.
“I thought you died,” I cry as I hug him tighter. “We couldn’t find your body.”
“I woke up here,” he gasps through pain, and I ease my hold on him.
“We need to move.” Damien crouches on Cillian’s side and pulls Cillian’s arm around his neck as he takes hold of him. I do the same, and then we help Cillian stand.
Still in shock, I try to take as much of Cillian’s weight as I can.
“Who’s this?” Alexei asks as he comes down the stairs.
“God, Poppet,” Cillian breathes at the sight of Alexei Koslov.
“He’s my family,” I say, tightening my hold around Cillian’s back.
Alexei moves closer. “You’re too small, little Winter. Move.”
I let Alexei take my place, and then we can move faster as we make our way out of the basement. I keep my body positioned in front of Cillian, my gun raised and ready to fire.
I won’t lose him a second time.
“Sergei, bring the car around the front,” Damien instructs.
We make our way through the bodies of the guards Alexei and his group took down, and then I see Vince lying face down, his back riddled with bullets.
Burn in hell with your family, bastard.
Leaving the mansion, we move quickly to get to the cars. It’s a struggle getting Cillian over the wall, and his pain-filled breaths rip at my heart.
When we finally reach the first SUV, I climb in the back with Cillian. Damien gets in next to me while Alexei takes the driver's side and Demitri the passenger side.
The other men pile into the other SUV, and then we leave for the private airfield.
I keep staring at Cillian, still not able to believe he’s alive. My eyes scan over his body and seeing his bruises, I wish I could kill the Blancos again. I shudder as I begin to see more wounds. He’s missing an earlobe. Broken nose. Old and new bruises coloring his face and neck.
“We’ll take care of you as soon as we’re home,” I say, my voice hoarse. “Can you hold out a couple of hours?”
“Walk in the park after the past four days,” he mumbles.
I watch as he fights to remain conscious, his eyes glued to mine. “My Poppet.”
My lips tremble as I try to smile at him. “My Cillian.”
Alexei parks by the private jet, and then he helps Damien get Cillian into the plane. I take the seat next to Cillian and strap him in. His head lolls to the side, his eyes locking on me again.
“We’re going home,” I murmur as I put on my own seat belt.
Damien takes a seat across from me, his eyes darting between Cillian and me.
When we take off, Cillian whispers, “Home.”
I watch as his eyes drift shut, then Demitri says, “That’s good. Let him sleep.” As soon as we reach altitude, Demitri goes to get a first aid kit then tells me, “Move to another chair.”
I get up and take the seat next to Damien and across from Cillian. Demitri opens the box and takes out an injection which has me asking, “What’s that?”
“It will help keep him sedated while we check how badly he got hurt.”
As soon as he administers the injection, Demitri begins to unbutton Cillian’s shirt. There’s a bandage around him, but blood has already seeped through and dried to black.
“Help me, Winter,” Demitri instructs, and I move off the seat. “Hold him so I can take this bandage off.
I pull Cillian to me and let his head rest against my stomach while Demitri goes to work. After a minute or so, Demitri mutters, “Looks like he has an infection. We’ll need to get antibiotics in him.”
“We have supplies at home,” I answer. “We made sure to have everything needed to treat a gunshot after I got shot.”