Chapter 49

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

DECLAN

Parking down the block from the address Kira provided, we climb from our respective SUVs and each grab a larger gun from thecargo areas in silence. The five of us are cloaked inblack and armed to the hilt. We stand without speaking beside the Tahoe for a moment, every one of us praying that we all make it through what we are about to walk into.

Finn cocks his shotgun, breaking the silence. "Let's go get your fucking wife."

It's all that's needed to kick us into gear. We make our way to the building next to our destination, taking the alleyway to stay out of sight. Using his good shoulder, Conor barrels through the rear door of the building and holds it open to let us all inside.

"Such a gentleman," Finn quips.

He loves this shit a little too much.

I'm worried about saving Quinn and getting home safely to Fiona. Getting us all home safely. Meanwhile, he's probably fucking hard at the thought of filling Bratva soldiers with bullets.

Do yourself a favor, don't fucking ask!

Finding the stairwell, we make our way to the roof. Moving slowly and using the door for cover, in case there are Bratva on the opposing roof, Finn steps outside. Surveying the area, he whispers, "There are two men walking the length of the roof. They should have their backs turned to us in a minute, maybe two."

"Hold this." Finn shoves his shotgun at me and pulls a knife from his belt. Peering around Liam, he takes off running toward them.

"Fucking hell," Liam huffs, dropping his shotgun. Following Finn's action, Liam is immediately on his heel. Both of them running at full speed toward the ledge. When they reach it, they hurdle the roughly four-foot gap between the buildings. They both crash into the two very surprised Bratva men, who never even heard them coming. Blood spills onto the rooftop as Finn slices through one man's throat, and Liam plunges his knife into the axillary artery of the other. By the time Tristan, Conor and I jump to the rooftop, the Bratva are both dead.

So far, so good .

As though the universe wants to continue to scoff at me, we find the door leading to the stairwell locked. Conor searches both dead men, but neither has any keys on them. Cocking my shotgun, I lift the barrel and aim it at the door. "They're about to know we're fucking here, then."

My finger flexes against the trigger, the gun milliseconds away from firing when the door pops open. The man on the other side gasps something in Russian. Equally as surprised to see him as he is me, I hesitate for a second before cracking the barrel of the gun against the side of his head. It doesn't debilitate him, but it buys enough time for me to rush him.

I tackle him, not realizing how short the landing is behind him. We both painfully tumble down the flight of stairs, each of us struggling for the upper hand when we are on solid ground. Pinning him beneath me, I wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze. He struggles, his hands clawing and slapping at my arms trying to break free. I thrust the weight of my body onto my hands his windpipe crack under the weight. I climb from him as he grabs his throat, terror welling in his eyes when he realizes he's a dead man.

They're all fucking dead men.

I'll kill them all to get to her.

After stepping over him, I traverse the stairs two at a time to make my way to the fire door for the sixth floor. The stomp of my boots on the metal stairs echoes through the stairwell, the reverberation only growing louder when my brothers follow. Knowing this hallway will be full of soldiers, I don't pause. I barrel through the door as I draw both pistols from my back, firing at the first men I see.

The deafening sound of gunshots in the tight hall grows increasingly louder when my brothers file into the hall behind me, and Bratva mercenaries return fire. Man after man, they fall as we continue toward the apartment at the end of the hall. The apartment where Kira said they'd be.

White-hot pain slices through my side, and I wince as I continue to storm down the hallway. My shirt grows wet, and I can feel the warm trickle running along my stomach.I don't need to look down to know I've been shot, The burning in my shoulder from the repeated recoil of my gun only adds to it, but I don't fucking care.

I need to get to her.

Reaching the door to the apartment first, I slam my shoulder against it. I'm about to do it a second time when Conor roars from behind, "Fucking cocksucker!!"

I turn to find him firmly holding his palm over his gut, blood slowly beginning to ooze through his fingers. Noticing my concern, he grunts, "I'm fine."

Glancing up from his stomach, I find a sea of armed Bratva soldiers racing toward us.

We're too fucking close.

This doesn't end with us on the wrong side of the door.

Quickly swapping the near-empty magazines on both my Sigs, I raise both toward the army rushing us and squeeze the trigger until both clips are done.