Page 30 of Salvation

“This is my family,” I cut him off, my voice low and dangerous. “My wife. My daughter. I’m going in first.”

The words hung in the air between us. My wife. Not just on paper anymore. Not just a legal arrangement for protection. For the first time, I’d said it out loud, claimed her in front of my brothers without qualification or explanation. No one reacted. It made me wonder if they’d figured it out long before I’d even admitted it to myself.

He studied me for a long moment, measuring my control against my rage. Finally, he nodded once. “You lead the assault team. But you follow the plan. No cowboy shit. No lone wolf heroics. Clear?”

“Crystal.” I forced my fingers to release their death grip on the table edge.

“Hawk, you and Cyclops flank Salvation,” Beast continued, getting back to business. “Nitro, Friar, and I will be right behind you. Second team takes the perimeter -- Prospero, you coordinate that with the Prospects. No one gets in or out once we’re engaged.”

Prospero nodded, already pulling a smaller map toward him to mark positions.

“What about the ransom?” Hawk asked, voicing the question hanging over all of us. “Just in case, I made sure two hundred K was ready, but if we’re going in hot…”

“Decoy package,” Beast answered. “We make the drop as instructed, buy ourselves time to get into position while they’re distracted. By the time they realize it’s filled with newspaper, we’ll already be inside.”

I nodded my approval. Smart. Keep them focused on the money while we closed the trap around them. Although, that also assumed they would actually take the bait.

The war room door opened, and Dr. Kestral poked his head in. I stepped out to follow him, thinking he must need something. The club doctor -- Prospero’s brother by blood -- moved to the newly added infirmary and began checking supplies and packing a medical bag.

“Any word on their condition?” he asked, his voice calm and professional as he began unpacking supplies with methodical precision.

“Unknown,” Beast replied. I glanced over my shoulder, not realizing he’d even followed us. “Last visual confirmation was the photo they sent, showing them bound but apparently unharmed.”

I watched as Dr. Kestral laid out gauze, antiseptic, suture kits, and more specialized equipment I couldn’t name. His movements were practiced and efficient, a man preparing for the worst while hoping for the best. He checked each item twice, then reopened his emergency kit to verify its contents for a third time.

“I’ll be ready,” he said simply, glancing my way with quiet reassurance.

The planning continued, each detail meticulously covered. Escape routes. Communication protocols. Contingencies for every scenario we could imagine. Throughout it all, I felt a strange calm settling over me -- not peace, but the focused clarity that comes before violence. The rage hadn’t disappeared. It had transformed, becoming something I could direct with precision.

“We move out ninety minutes from now,” Beast concluded. “Gear up.”

The brothers dispersed to prepare, the room emptying until only Beast and I remained. He rolled up the map, his movements deliberate.

“You good?” he asked quietly.

“I will be when they’re home.”

He clasped my shoulder, squeezing once. “We’ll get them back.”

I nodded, unable to form words around the knot in my throat. Then I headed to the armory, where my brothers were already selecting their weapons. It was one of the many changes this place had undergone over the past decade.

The room hummed with focused energy as hands checked magazines, tested knife edges, and adjusted tactical gear. No jokes, no banter -- just the quiet efficiency of men preparing for war. I strapped my Glock to my thigh, checked the action on my backup piece, and slid a hunting knife into my boot. The weight of the weapons was comforting, grounding.

Hawk approached, handing me a tactical vest. “Shield got thermal imaging of the building. Heat signatures suggest at least six tangos inside, plus two smaller signatures that match Yulia and Clover’s profiles. Second floor, northeast corner. Looks like they’ve moved them.”

I nodded, memorizing the location. Six against twelve. Good odds, especially with surprise on our side.

“You ready for this?” Hawk asked, his voice low enough that only I could hear.

“Been ready,” I replied, checking the extra magazines on my belt.

He studied my face for a moment. “Just remember -- mission first. Getting them out safely is what matters. Everything else is secondary.”

I knew what he was saying. Don’t lose yourself to revenge. Don’t put payback before rescue. I wanted to promise him I’d keep my focus, but I couldn’t lie to my brother.

“I’m going to kill every last one of them,” I said instead, my voice flat and certain.

Hawk didn’t argue. He just nodded once and moved away to finish his own preparations.

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