Stolen by a Sinner (Sinners #3)(6)

God, they’ll probably kill me just for working here.

The gunfire comes closer, the shots sounding impossibly loud and making my heart beat faster in my chest.

Get to safety! You’ve survived too much to die tonight.

I glance to the other section of the kitchen, and as I stand up to make a run for the backdoor, it bursts open, and men pour inside.

Crap!

Panicking, I run in the opposite direction, and darting into the hallway, bullets fly past me. My mouth instantly grows bone dry, and before I can take another step, a bullet slams into my side, tearing through my flesh and insides with excruciating pain.

Another bullet hits me in the stomach, and as pain engulfs me for a second time, my body drops into a pit of darkness.





Chapter 4


Gabriel



It happens fast. One second, I’m firing at Mazur’s soldiers, and the next, someone darts right into my line of fire.

Reaching the body, I notice the person isn’t wearing any combat gear, and there’s no weapon. I crouch down, on guard for any threat, while my men sweep through the mansion.

“Dead?” Emre asks as he crouches on the other side of the body.

“Looks dead,” I mutter, not able to see the person clearly.

Then Emre shines a light over the body, and I stare at the familiar face of the woman I bumped into outside Aqua.

She belongs to Mazur?

Just like earlier, her light brown hair is tied back in a tight bun that does nothing to flatter her average features. By the worn sweatpants and sweater, it’s safe to guess she’s probably a maid or some kind of employee. I’ve heard Mazur doesn’t give a fuck about his staff.

My eyebrows draw together when I hear the gunshots tampering out.

As I climb to my feet to continue my search for Mazur, Emre asks, “Is it the same woman from earlier?”

“Evet.” I lift an eyebrow at one of my soldiers. “Any sign of Mazur?”

“Not yet, boss,” he answers before disappearing down the hallway.

Emre searches the woman’s neck for a pulse, then glances at me. “She’s still alive.”

I doubt it’s a coincidence that she bumped into me on the same day I planned to attack. I swear, if Mazur got away and she had something to do with it, I’ll make her wish she was never born.

An edgy feeling ghosts over my skin, increasing the restlessness already tightening my muscles.

I want to know why she was at Aqua and any other information she has on Mazur. “Take her.”

Emre signals for two of my men to come closer. “Where are they taking her?”

“Home. One of the cottages at the back of the property. Get the doctor to take care of her.”

“Home?” Emre questions me.

“I want every piece of information she can give me.”

“If she survives,” my cousin mutters.

While my men take care of the woman, I continue to walk through the house, and when every soldier shakes their head, intense disappointment starts to fill my chest.

“No sign of Mazur or Dydek,” Daniel, one of my lieutenants, informs me as he comes into the sitting room. His words hit a nail in the coffin containing my hope that tonight would be the night Mazur pays for what he did to my parents.

I wanted that fucker to die tonight. I wanted his blood coating my hands, his screams filling my ears.

I bite out the instruction, “Find out if any of our men were wounded, and get the lights turned on.”

“Yes, boss.”

To another soldier, I say, “Gather the maids and every other staff member that’s still breathing for questioning.”

He nods and quickly darts out of the sitting room.

Minutes later, when the lights come on, I glance around me. “Tear the mansion apart.”

Getting to destroy the place Mazur calls home doesn’t do anything to lessen the frustration swirling inside me.

Fucking, bastard! You can run, but I swear I will find you – if it’s the last thing I do.

While my men get to work destroying every piece of furniture, a wooden box grabs my attention. Thinking it’s a cigar holder, I flip the lid up, then stare at the rows of bullets. Taking one out, I see a name inscribed on the side.

Agnes.

I check another one.

Nikodem.

So the rumor is true. Mazur keeps a bullet for each of his employees.

Where he uses fear to inspire loyalty, I chose a different method. There’s only one thing that overrules fear. Money. People will do a lot of dumb shit for the right amount.

“The staff are gathered in the basement,” Kerem, one of my soldiers, informs me.

Nodding, my lip curls in distaste, and with one last hateful glance around the sitting room, I follow Kerem to where the staff are waiting to be questioned.

The basement is dimly lit, eight beds lined against the walls. I only count seven people and assume the girl I shot is number eight.

“Where’s Mazur?” I ask, my sharp gaze checking each of their faces for any sign of emotion.

They remain silent, their eyes trained on the concrete floor.

“The sooner you talk, the quicker you can get back to your lives,” Emre adds.

The oldest, a man who looks like a butler, says, “We don’t know. There’s a tunnel beneath the house. Mr. Mazur probably left via it.”