Page 127 of Punish Me, Daddy

We reached the rooftop and Ivan tapped once on my shoulder.

“Three guards. Two inside front. One walking the outside perimeter. Minimal coordination. They’re not expecting an assault.”

“Then we give them one.”

I noticed that the skylight was cracked, propped slightly open for ventilation. I knelt, peering through the gap.

I could see that the warehouse was mostly empty. There were crates lining the far wall, a hallway and a door tucked in the back that was probably an office of some kind. That was where they’d be keeping her. I could almost feel her inside it.

I held my breath and didn’t blink. All I could feel was that pressure behind my ribs building.

Please God, let her be okay.

Ivan passed me a silencer.

Maxim’s voice crackled once in my ear. “Set.”

Aleksei: “Dock is clear.”

Sergei: “Eyes on entry team.”

I closed my eyes and gave the command.

“Go.”

Maxim breached the front.

One shot, quick and clean. A thud. The second guard turned and Aleksei got him from behind; knife across the throat, body dropping without a sound.

We moved, sliding through the skylight, our feet hitting the floor on the third level.

The air inside the warehouse was damp and heavy.

My boots were silent as I moved across the cheap tile, heartbeat synced to each footfall. We moved down the stairwell to the ground floor. I watched as Sergei cleared the west corridor, taking out the perimeter guard as he rounded the corner with a swift shot between the eyes. Maxim moved through the front, taking out the two guards there with two quick shots followed by two thuds two seconds apart. Aleksei made his way through from the loading docks, taking out a guard at the back with a quick slash of his knife across the man’s throat.

Ivan and I stayed focused on the office at the back.

We moved through the narrow hallway, the hum of flickering fluorescent lights buzzing above us.

And then I saw him.

Fucking Stillwell.

He was standing just outside the door to the office like he was waiting for a car instead of orchestrating a kidnapping. Two more guards flanked him, earpieces in, weapons drawn but lowered. Stillwell wasn’t armed, that I could see. He was juststanding there casually in a tailored navy suit, like this was a press event and not a death sentence.

He looked up and the bastard fuckingsmiled.

“There he is,” he said, sounding amused. “The man of the hour.”

I didn’t stop walking. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t break eye contact with the standing dead man.

My gun was already up.

One guard reached for his weapon. Sergei dropped him with a single shot to the throat before he could clear his holster. The other turned to run. Maxim caught him from the side, slammed him into the wall, and put him down with two clean shots to the chest.

Stillwell didn’t blink.

I stopped three feet in front of him, gun aimed squarely at his heart.

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