Page 233 of Snaring Emberly

“Mom,” I whisper into the sound of gunfire. “I know what you were trying to escape. Thank you for my life.”

“Emberly,” yells a familiar voice.

I crack open an eye.

Among the dark figures stands one wearing black, white, and gray. My vision is too blurred to make out his features, but my chest fills with hope.

“Roman?”

SEVENTY-SIX

ROMAN

Gil drives like a demon through the streets of Carmel, New Jersey, and tears through the highway like it’s his own personal circle of hell. I send messages to every man at my disposal to storm Capello’s old mansion in Queen’s Gardens.

Galliano rolls around the back seat, moaning so loudly that I’m tempted to put him out of his misery. The only thing stopping me from filling him with bullets is the threat that his team might kill Emberly if he doesn’t reappear. That, and my brothers. They deserve to know the truth about why our mother left.

My phone blows up with messages. Cousin Leroi is the first to arrive, and he’s positioned his girlfriend on the roof of a nearby house with a long-range rifle. He’s an expert on siege situations, so he’s on the ground, directing the troops.

“What’s happening, boss?” Gil takes a sharp turn that nearly tosses me out of my seat.

“Focus on the road,” I growl.

With a grunt, he swerves into the shoulder lane and floors the gas pedal. I jerk backward, catching a glimpse of the speedometer, which passes 120 mph. The trees on either side of the road blur into a mass of green and brown.

I send a message to Leroi.

Have you seen her?

There’s a minute’s delay before he texts back.

Not yet.

While waiting for another update, I slip on a bulletproof vest. Dread coils in my gut. I turn to Galliano.

“Tell me what happens if you don’t text your son?”

He groans. “Get fucked.”

“If anything happens to my wife, I won’t just kill your sons. I’ll keep you in a basement and feed you their body parts. Season up those assholes, so they taste better than your grandma’s meatloaf.”

Galliano’s eyes widen. “You sick fuck.”

“Tell me,” I snarl.

“It was a fucking bluff!” he screeches.

My jaw clenches. “You had better be.”

“Almost there,” Gil says.

Leroi sends another message.

Seraphine spotted a heavily pregnant woman climbing off the edge of a balcony.

“Fuck,” I roar.

“What’s happening?” Gil asks.