Page 101 of Auctioned Innocence
Sofia’s breathing steadies, though tears still track down her cheeks.
Not life-threatening, but still her brother.
Still someone trying to kill the people we love.
“Where is he now?” I ask, my free hand stroking her hair in comfort.
“New safe house upstate. Private doctor, full security detail.” Mario’s voice is tight now. “But Dante, he found something. Something big enough that they tried to silence him for it.”
“We need extraction,” I tell Mario. “The cabin’s compromised. Bodies everywhere.”
“Working on it. I’ve got a team en route, but they’re forty minutes out. Can you hold position?”
I look around at the destroyed cabin, the bodies scattered across the floor.
Forty minutes feels like a lifetime when we’re this exposed.
“We’ll manage,” I say. “Just get here fast.”
“Copy that. Stay sharp.”
The line goes dead. I slide the phone back into my pocket and turn to Sofia, who’s wiping blood from the cut on her cheek.
“Forty minutes,” I tell her. “We need to secure the perimeter, make sure?—”
The remaining windows explode inward.
Not from gunfire this time—from more flash-bang grenades that turn the world into a nightmare of white light and deafening noise.
I’m reaching for Sofia when the concussion hits, sending me staggering backward as my vision dissolves into strobing chaos.
“Sofia!” I shout, but I can’t hear my own voice over the ringing in my ears.
Dark figures pour through the shattered windows like smoke.
I fire blind, my shots going wide as disorientation overwhelms my senses.
These aren’t the same attackers from before—these are fresh, coordinated, and they know exactly what they’re doing.
A boot connects with my ribs, sending me crashing into the stone fireplace.
Pain explodes through my injured shoulder as I hit the ground, my weapon skittering across the blood-slicked floor.
Through the chaos, I see Sofia fighting like a wildcat.
She’s taken down one attacker, is grappling with a second, her movements fluid and deadly despite the disorientation.
But there are too many of them.
“Get your hands off me!” she screams, her voice cutting through the chaos.
I lunge toward her, but something hard slams into the back of my skull.
Stars explode across my vision as I go down, tasting blood. Through blurred sight, I watch three men overwhelm Sofia, zip-tying her hands behind her back as she struggles against them.
“Dante! Oh god, Dante!” Her voice cracks, high and panicked. “Please, please be okay?—”
I force myself up, fear overriding the agony in my head and shoulder.
