I did. Anguish rippled across his face, and it was in that moment that I realized I wasn’t the only one carrying the scars of what happened on that ship. Max went through it right alongside me. Max had been forced to watch, unable to do anything.
Who was helping him carry the pain?
“Max…” I took a step forward.
“I will handle it,” he said as he struggled to get his emotions in check. He tucked his handgun back into the holster at his side before he dragged his hands down his face.
I shook my head and opened my mouth to argue, but he stepped over Vokshi’s body. His thumb and forefinger gripped my chin so he could look me in the eye. I could feel the heat of his body so close to mine against the cold outside air.
“I said, I will handle it. Okay?”
I gaped, searching his titanium eyes for some kind of answer. Didn’t this just royally fuck us? What would the Camorra do when they found out?
“Answer me,” he murmured. “Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
His thumb brushed over my bottom lip. A deep ache throbbed within my chest.
“I…” His voice dropped low.
He didn’t get a chance to finish before the door behind us burst open and Cas, Obi, and Ryuji stumbled out. Before I knew it, Max had stepped away.
“Vokshi is dead,” he announced.
“What?” Obi asked while the rest of my men surrounded me. Cas and Ryu both formed a barrier on each side of me, blocking me from Max.
“It was necessary,” Max said, wiping his head with his forearm. “Unavoidable.”
Cas pulled me into his chest, cupping my cheeks. “Are you okay?”
I nodded. “I’m fine.”
Ciel came rushing up with Wynn, both of them checking me over. Ciel inspected my neck and waist. “I saw on the cameras. You’re okay?”
My lips pressed together while I nodded again. “Yeah. The MTA director is inside.”
“He’s mine,” Obi said darkly.
“Did you get the victims away?” I asked Wynn.
“Yes, darling,” he said before he pressed a kiss to my forehead. “They’re okay. We’ve got everyone.”
I looked over my shoulder at the door. “We have to get inside. The girls?—”
Ryu’s finger pressed against his ear. “Ronan confirms all our girls are safe. The other buyers are sedated. We’ll move them back to Fallon’s house and question them.”
The air whooshed out of my lungs while my eyes closed. It worked.
“Get the other customers in the club outside and away fromhere, and then burn it down,” I ordered. “Max, tell the rest of your men to move forward with their strikes. Ryu, tell Konstantin Makarov to move on his side. Wynn, tell Ronan and Fallon to mobilize their men, too.”
Everyone nodded.
The orders would signal to our men to hit the rest of the known Albanian locations across Philadelphia and New York City. Phase 3 of the plan. We were hitting them all with our combined forces—the Russian Bratva, the Irish Mob, and the Italians working as one. After tonight, with no more Albanian leadership, they’d be finished.
We’d done it.
The nightmare began when Wynn and I were attacked on the street outside our home. Now, it would end with fire and blood, leaving only us standing in the ashes.
