The Wrath of Cain (The Syndicate, #1)(61)

Once again, I’m helpless as I watch a man who is like a father to me beat himself down with despair, mourning the loss of one son while grieving for the other. When his hands start to shake, I take the box from him, my stomach churning.

Closing the lid on the box, I quietly back up to leave the room. John has his hand on Salvatore’s shoulder, his eyes on me nodding towards the door for me to go. I make my way up the stairs and down the hall to my empty room; the room I was going to share with my wife. The room where I was going to give her the ring that is now sitting on top of the white dresser. Cecily cleaned it up and gave it to me this afternoon. She went on and on about how stunning it was going to look on her daughter’s finger, and how it was going to mean so much to Calla to have it. And now I can hardly bear to even look at it.

Moving across the room to the closet, I open the door and place the box with Manny’s finger on top, covering it with the extra blanket on the top shelf. I don’t even bother shutting the door. I have to see what’s on this flash drive. I have to see her. I have to see him.

I turn on my computer, tapping the drive on my leg waiting for it to boot up. Once it does, I plug the stick into the USB port and wait.

The sight before me has me standing up, gripping the sides of the desk hard. My teeth clench together. There she is, taped to a chair while a man holds her head in place. I’m going to kill him for touching her. Slice his goddamned throat and watch him bleed out.

Calla’s eyes are wide with fear. She’s busted up. Her eyes are swollen. Her face and arms have bruises and gashes running up and down them. But she’s alive. If it weren’t for the irony of the situation, I might laugh right now. After everything she has been through, she still has on those sexy as all hell spike-heeled shoes she demanded John get for her before we left.

I don’t take my eyes off of her until I hear a scream I will never forget in my life coming from just a few feet away from her. I stare at the back of a man’s head while he’s crouched down on the floor. I know this is Royal. He stands up, giving me my first view of Manny.

“Aw, f*ck!”

He’s screaming, rocking the chair. And then I notice it. There in the corner. Crates. Large crates. I know this place. I know exactly where it is. It’s a storage unit for the guns Manny and I steal. I’ve been to this place more times than I can count.

With shaky fingers I stop the video. I pull the flash drive out, shoving it into my back pocket before opening the dresser drawer and pulling out my Glock and clips. I shove the gun into the back of my jeans, racing down the hallway and down the stairs. My boots thump loudly as I go. I swing the office door wide open, not even bothering to knock.

“I know where they are,” I say breathlessly.

Four pairs of eyes are centered directly on me.

“Shit.”

Lola and Cecily both stand. I can only look at my mother in law. I cannot bear to look at Lola. She has to know what’s about to happen. Either one or both of her sons will be dead by the end of the night. I can’t even begin to imagine the pain and heartache she must be feeling right now. The same as Salvatore. He knows better than anyone how things like this go down. He is the first to speak.

“Where are they, son?”

“He has them at the warehouse in Queens.”

“Are you sure?” This comes from John.

“Yes, I’m sure, for Christ’s sake! Let’s roll.”

I don’t give them time to follow me. I’m down the hall and out the door as fast as my legs will go. I try to block out the women’s screams, yelling to all of us to please be careful and bring their babies home. I shake my foggy head, clear my thoughts, and focus on what lies ahead.

By the time Salvatore and John get to the car, I have it raring and ready to go. John hops in the front and Salvatore in the back. Tires squeal as I race out of the drive.

“Open the gate,” I hear Salvatore say heatedly. Then he’s on his phone, every word clipped to whomever he is talking to. I pay no attention.

“My God, boy, are you trying to get us killed?”

John’s hands are gripping the dash. I’m weaving in and out of traffic, speeding like a bitch and running every red light, driving heedlessly.

“He’s right, Cain. You can’t cause an accident; it will delay us getting there. Besides, I already have guys surrounding the place.”

I’m so in the zone. So ready to see, touch, and hold Calla. The only thing on my mind is getting to her.

I slow down and don’t say a word, my eyes trained on the road ahead. The closer we get, the thirstier I get for blood.

“Pull in here,” Salvatore commands.

We’re about a quarter of a mile from the warehouse. I swing the car into a vacant lot.

John points to the side of the building where a narrow paved path leads to the back of the building.

“Around back.”

My fist grip the steering wheel tight. I’m ready.

“What is this place?”

“One of my buildings. It’s empty. I have several men meeting us here.”

I’m stunned. John must see it in my expression when we come to a stop alongside several other cars. At least a half dozen men are standing around with rifles on their backs, cigarettes hanging out of their mouths. I put the car in park, cutting the engine. I grab the keys and go to open the door.

“Cain.”