***ZANE’S POV***
It has been three fucking days and London hasn’t been found yet. I have become a dirty image of myself, nothing my guys are doing is making me get a grip of it, I hate myself for putting London in danger.
“Zane? you need to sleep, you look like shit,” Alex says as he hands me a cup of coffee.
When last did I have a normal meal down my stomach? I wonder. Until now, I didn’t realize London was the reason why I was living, now, I am just surviving.
I shake my head.
“You would kill yourself before you find your wife,” he says turning on the TV and putting on a news station.
“Do you think Michael is the boss of the Russian bratva?” I ask not understanding his link to the Antonovs.
They have increased their security and ghosted any intruder. I can’t get a link to what they are doing in that mansion and it annoys me.
“I don’t know, Zane, but Mia is bringing you food. You need to make sure you eat and have some rest, or I swear to Jesus, I will knock you out myself,” Alex swears.
I raise my brows at Alex questioning what he just said. It is not in him to be the bad guy, but he could really be a pain to the ass when he tries to be.
When I open my mouth to answer him, Mia walks in, a maid carrying a tray closely behind her.
“Hey, Amori,” she says sweetly, rising on tiptoes and kissing Alex.
I remember all the times I had this feeling with London, when I will grab her ass or lightly pad it for fun.
I shake my head, this memory is too painful for me. Nodding to the maid, I dismiss her, carrying the tray filled with meals and wine.
I am halfway through the meal when the news catches my attention. Enzo Antonov is being questioned about his dangerous dealings with the railway dump house.
Enzo brushes the topic and I grab my phone calling Russell. He answers on the second ring.
“Why don’t we know about the Rail house where Enzo owns?” I question.
“Cool off brother, let me check,” he says.
I take a long sip of my wine before he reconnects the call, getting back to me.
“It was hiding, Zane. I am sorry, do you want to go check it out?” he inquires.
“Yes, now,” I tell him.
“I will meet you at the road point then. I will rally the men,” he says.
Sinner has been put off for a while and although he thinks capable of handling shit, he still needs to rest. Reaper wasn’t babysitting him anymore, thus, he was going to come with me.
As we pull out on the road, Alex and Rio are following closely behind, their men in tow.
Reaper gives me an assured look over the windshield and I nod at him.
“Those bastards better not have touched my wife,” I spit out checking at my watch.
I know London might think that I haven’t thought about her but that is a lie, she is in my mind every second, she rules my fucking mind.
As we reach the road point, Russell’s cars break out of the junction, towing in line behind us. A small smile creeps at the corners of my lips.
“What is the plan?” Russell asks over the small walkie-talkie he has.
“Kill every living soul and extract my wife. Alive,” I add.
Of course, I need London alive. I don’t really care about her being annoying to me, I want her in my home, doing the most for me, she could even piss me off as much as she wants.
I want my little wife.
I break out softly, fighting back the tears from spilling down my cheeks. I don’t want my brothers to see me as weak.
*
When we surround the house, all our guns are pulled out and we start firing.
Instantly, a drawn fire takes place and we go into protection mode.
One of our men gets shot in the leg and I notice the bastard that did so. I shoot his hand, the one holding the gun.
Advancing, I slam open the door and I am caught aback.
The little war room has about seven scared kids with guns in their hands. Two of them are bleeding and hurt.
“Michael has kids as his protection guard? Fucking pussy,” I grit out as I look around.
They look terrified and the eldest should be seventeen, give or take.
“How young is the youngest?” I ask harshly, playing with the cork of my gun.
“Fifteen,” a frail kid with wild eyes says.
Fifteen fucking years. These are a bunch of junkie kids that should be put in juvenile.
“Fuck!” I bite out as I look at their faces.
From the corner of my eye I catch a movement and lifting my leg I kick out the gun from the kid’s hand.
“Arghhh! My hand, you broke it,” he cries out grasping his wrist with his good hand, fear consuming him as I watch forward.
Grabbing him off the ground, I button his shirt and bring his stinking breath to my face.
“One question and I need one fucking answer from your mouth or I will have my gun in your mouth blowing off your brain matters,” I say, my voice calm than usual as I stare directly into his face.
The fear in his face makes him piss in his pants and I look at him in disgust.
My men have guarded the place now and are looking around the warehouse.
“What do you want?” he questions.
In annoyance, I hit the boy against the wall.
“You shut the fuck up. I ask the questions and you provide the answers. You imp,” I say anger glaring my voice.
He nods groaning in pain.
“Where is Michael Logan?” I ask disgust lacing my voice.
“I don’t know,” he says.
I slam the motherfucker against the wall twice and he growls in pain.
“Want to reconsider your reply, asshole,” I question and he answers.
“I swear, I don’t know. They kept us here for two days after the lady that was here escaped. Enzo said me and the boys should wait for you, in case you had enough balls to show up at this location,” the boy says and I know he is sincere this time.
But one part of his sentence catches my attention.
“London is not here?” I demand rhetorically.
“Yes,” he says as if expecting another bang from me.
I don’t know that, my head just becomes noisy as I start having a panic attack.
London is not here. My baby could be anywhere. My little wife could even be in danger and I don’t possibly know that.