58. Mikhail

The mall is a dark smudge against the cloudy sky. Cracked asphalt stretches out in every direction. Weeds and scraggly blades of grass have pushed their way through, but in every other way, the place is a hulking, desolate wasteland.

And my son is inside.

The manager at the club told us as much as he knew—Christos was planning something big. All the security cameras at Greek-owned clubs around town had been turned off in case Christos needed to use them as a stash point.

He didn"t want evidence tying Dante to any of his business. But if the plan went off without a hitch, he wouldn't need them.

"He owns some big piece of property outside the city," the manager said.

I knew what he was talking about immediately. Christos invested in the mall in the late 1980s. When it closed for good a few years ago, he didn"t bother selling it. The retail side of things never made him much money anyway. He gets much more use out of it now that it"s abandoned and forgotten and doesn't draw any unwanted eyes.

"Do you think she'll stay away?" Raoul stands next to me, assessing the bland exterior of the building.

"If Anatoly knows what's good for himself, then yes." After the clinic fiasco, I don't think Anatoly would risk taking Viviana anywhere against my wishes again.

Then again, I know my wife. She has a way of getting what she wants.

"It's going to kill her not to be here."

"It might kill her to be here."

Sure, Viviana being an onlooker to a raid like this is dangerous, but it's more than that. If things inside don't go the way we're hoping, I don't want her anywhere near this place.

"There are some things you can't ever get out of your head," I add softly. "I don't want her to ever know what it feels like to see her own child dead."

I wouldn't wish that pain on anyone.

Suddenly, Raoul claps a hand on my back. "No one is going to experience that today. Because we're going to go in there and save your son."

Raoul isn't usually the cheerleader type before a raid, but I don't mind the energy today. We could all use a little pep in our steps.

I'm not the only one who's exhausted; the men are tired, too. It's late and we've trekked all over the city in a matter of hours. But when I make the call to storm the building, no one hesitates.

They just go.

We hit every entrance, clearing the rundown building room by room. Distantly, I hear gunshots echoing through the dusty air and harried footsteps across the tiles. This mission isn't about stealth. It's not about the element of surprise. There's no way Christos kidnapped my son and thought, for even a second, that I wasn't going to tear this world apart until I got him back. He knows I'm coming at him with everything I have.

So this mission is about being fast and being thorough.

I search an old retail space, kicking over a box of moth-eaten clothes in the back room to make sure it's empty.

"Clear!" I call as soon as I'm back in the main walkway.

Raoul pops out of the space just ahead of me. He shakes his head, but still yells, "Clear!"

The voices are getting louder. My men are converging from every direction. Soon, we'll meet at the heart of the building.

What if no one finds Dante?

What if he isn't here?

What if this is a trap?

We don't have any other leads and I already killed the manager from the club. He didn't know enough to be useful, anyway. But he knew a six-year-old was going to be kidnapped and he did nothing to stop it. He's lucky all I did was shoot him in the head.

Raoul is in front of me, walking past the wide-open mouth of what was once a lingerie store, when gunshots ring out.

He hits the floor and I dive sideways, crouching behind a tiled planter. The tree inside withered up and died a decade ago, if not more, so it offers zero cover.

Raoul is sprawled on the floor six feet away from me. He isn't moving.

"Raoul?" I hiss.

No answer.

My heart is pounding, but my hand is steady. I ready my gun, prepared to charge into the store alone to find whoever fired those shots.

But I don't have to.

Raoul crawls over to me, pulling himself behind the planter just as a bullet cracks the tile where he was lying a second ago.

"Shit," I breathe. "I thought you were hit."

"I kind of was." He lifts his arm, revealing a burn mark across his bicep where a bullet grazed him. He shakes it off and gets his weapon ready, too. "Do we have a plan?"

"You take the left, I take the right, and neither of us die," I suggest.

He smiles. "My thoughts exactly."

On a silent count of three, I roll out from behind the planter, get to my feet, and weave into the store. Raoul is a dark blur to my left.

The electricity in the building is off, so the back of the store is dark. I don't want to fire at random and risk hitting Dante, but the broad-shouldered shadow pointing a gun at me doesn"t have the same concern. Bullets whizz past my head, but I keep my focus trained on him.

When I"m close enough, I aim for his head.

The first shot ricochets off of a metal shelving unit in the wall behind him. He ducks, dropping his gun. My second shot hits him in the neck.

He falls behind a rack of skimpy clothes, loudly choking on his own blood.

There's a muffled curse from the corner of the store, and Raoul descends there. Something flickers in the air—a small, silver flash. I don't have time to follow it. I check to make sure the man I shot is down and then position myself behind Raoul to back him up. But he doesn't need it. He's standing on the other man's neck.

"Where is the kid?" Raoul snarls.

"Nearby," I announce. I don't know how I know, but I do. I feel it. "He threw something when you got close."

"I heard it hit the floor," Raoul confirms. He drives his heel into the man's throat. "What was it?"

His tongue swells out from between his blue-tinged lips. "Nothing."

I reach for the door behind his head, but it's locked.

"Was it a key?" I guess.

The guard sinks into the floor like he wants to dissolve there.

"If you want to watch him, I can find the key," Raoul offers.

I wave him off and turn to face the door. "I don't need it."

I draw back and then, with everything I have, throw my shoulder into the door. The knob and bolt don't budge, but all it takes is one blow and the cheap, hollow door caves in. I ram it with my shoulder twice more, until there's a sizable dent. Then I grab the clothes rack behind me and spear it into the opening.

Splinters and wood dust explode into the air, but I ignore it all as I widen the hole. Once I've punched through to the other side, I reach through the door and turn the lock.

The back room smells like the employees left in such a hurry they forgot to clean out their lunches. It's rotten meat and curdled milk. As much as I want Dante to be in here, I don't want him to be stuck in this hellhole.

I throw an arm over my nose. "Dante?"

The guard outside the door says something, but Raoul quiets him with a kick to the face.

Everything goes quiet and I listen—not moving, not breathing. "Dante?" I call again.

Seconds tick past so slowly it's painful. Then, finally, I hear rustling.

It could be a mouse. Or a homeless person hiding out in the bowels of the building. But why would two of Christos' guards be assigned to guard the rat population?

"Dante?" I edge slowly around a tall shelf in the middle of the room so I can see the back corner. "It's me, kid. It's Dad."

There's another shuffling sound, and I can see a small shadow near the ground. Tiny limbs shifting against the dusty tile. Then, the sweetest sound I've ever heard.

"Dad?"

For the first time in hours, I take a full breath.

I almost black out with sheer relief as I leap around the corner and pull Dante into my arms. He's shaking and whimpering, but he's breathing. His chest is rising and falling. His arms and legs are attached. He's as perfect as he was the last time I saw him, and I've never been more grateful for anything in my life.

"I found you." I say it for my sake as much as Dante's. I need to drive the point home.

Only now, when he's in my arms, can I admit that I wasn't sure how this day was going to end. I couldn't think of a single reason why Christos would kidnap my son and keep him alive. Let alone guarded by two terrified, inexperienced guards.

It makes no sense, but I don't fucking care. Not when he's here and he's alive.

Dante buries his face in my neck. "I want Mama."

"I know, kid. God, she wants you, too." I actually have to blink back tears thinking about how happy Viviana is going to be.

He pulls back. His eyes are almost swollen shut from crying and his nose is bright red. He swipes at it with his sleeve and talks through hiccups. "P-please don't t-take me back t-to school. I w-want to go h-home."

"You're not going back, Dante. You're coming home." I cup my hand around the back of his head and hold him close. "Where you belong."

Raoul binds the living guard with a rope he fashioned out of left-behind lingerie and then drags the dead one far enough away from the door that Dante won't see him. He's experienced enough trauma for one day. No reason to pile on more of it.

I trust Raoul with my entire soul, but it's still hard to hand Dante over to him. I place my son in his arms and look in his eyes. "Take care of him, brother."

"With my life," he vows, dipping his head.

Then he hustles out of the store with Dante cradled against his chest.

The best thing for Dante is to get back home with Viviana as soon as possible. The best thing for the future of my family is for me to stay behind and find out as much as I can from the unlucky guard who survived.

He's shaking on his side on the floor, his hands and legs hog-tied with red and black lace. I've never seen Raoul without a pair of zip-ties on him, so I have to assume using the lingerie was a way to add insult to injury.

I'll allow it. This asshole deserves whatever is coming to him.

I squat down in front of him and he closes his eyes. Like I'm some boogeyman who only exists in his imagination. Like he can wish me away.

I snatch the lace muzzle off of his mouth and grab his jaw, forcing his eyes to me. "Tell me everything you know."

"Nothing!" he cries, shaking so hard his jaw rattles against the floor. "I don't know?—"

He's interrupted by my gun. Two shots—one in each thigh.

Blood sprays and he howls. His back bows, his body trying to escape the inescapable pain. I like it a little too much. So I fire again—this time, into his shoulder.

Blood soaks through his pants and his shirt. It spills onto the floor and he has to strain his neck to keep his face out of it.

"Take number two." I tap the gun against his temple. "Tell me everything you know."

He's gasping for air. A bullet fragment could have hit his lung. If so, I have even less time with him than I thought.

"Talk fast," I bark.

"I'm just a guard," he moans. "Christos told me and—" He glances over to the dead lump in the corner and then quickly away. "Me and Tobias were sent here to guard this door. We weren't even supposed to open it. He didn't want us talking to the kid."

"How long did you know he was planning to kidnap my son?"

His mouth slams shut.

"Lying won't save you now," I snarl. "How long?"

"Two weeks," he admits in a whisper.

Since the day I dropped Dante off at school.

I'm a fucking idiot. I thought he would be safe there, but it just put an even bigger target on his back.

My knuckles are white around the gun. My finger itches to tighten on the trigger, but I hold back. "Why?"

"Because you didn't marry Helen."

"No," I bark. "I mean, why? Why keep Dante here? Why put two guards who don't know what the fuck they're doing in charge of watching over my son?"

It was all too easy. There was no one manning the exits. No defense between the doors and this room. Christos kidnaps the son of a pakhan and then holds him in a back room with two guards on him. It's almost like it was?—

"It was a trap," the man gasps. His eyes are wide. I can tell he's coming to the same conclusion I am. "Christos told us you wouldn't come for the kid. He said we didn't need many guards because you wouldn't even know the kid was missing until it was too late. By the time you figured it out, the kid was supposed to be on a plane headed to—Fuck! There was no plane, was there?"

Christos played us both.

He knew I'd drop everything to track down Dante. The question is: while I'm standing here, what is Christos doing?

He's still lost in his own revelation, so I press the gun against his temple. His wide eyes focus on me. "What is Christos doing right now? What was his plan?"

He shakes his head. "I have no idea. I don't know anything else. Please don't kill?—"

His brains splatter on the wall before he can finish his thought.

I sprint out of the store, my phone already pressed to my ear. Anatoly answers on the first ring. "You found him, brother! Raoul just called. Thank God. How are?—"

"Dante was a distraction," I interrupt. "Christos is up to something. Until I know what it is, don't let Viviana out of your sight."

I want to be there with her. I want to be the one to walk through the door with Dante in my arms. I want to see the relief on her face and hold both of them in my arms.

But there isn't time.