Page 186 of Taming Seraphine
“I need those bastards’ attention on a fixed spot.”
“To make an easier target?”
“Exactly.”
Minutes later, Roman’s men position themselves around the van, while the shooters on the balcony direct their fire at the vehicle. I can’t even find satisfaction in them acting as I predicted because that Capello psychopath could be up there mutilating Seraphine.
I slink around the side of the building, close one eye, and peer up to the third floor. The man standing on the side closest to me leans over the balcony and shoots.
Taking aim at an exposed patch of skin on his neck, I fire off a single round.
He drops his weapon and topples over the side. I don’t bother to follow the trajectory of his body because I’m already aiming at his companion. As the second man falls, the garden fills with a chorus of cheers.
Roman claps my back so hard that I feel the force of his blow in both of my knife wounds. “Nice shooting, man.”
It’s too early for congratulations. Seraphine is still in the house, and there’s no sign of Samson Capello.
“Let’s go,” I say from clenched teeth.
Roman follows me to the wall, where the men from around the van gather. I turn to one who’s about my size and demand his armor. My cousin does the same.
Moments later, we’re scaling the walls, using the branches of the climbing plant to pull ourselves up. Sweat gathers on my brow and the wound in my gut pounds to the beat of my heart. There’s no doubt that I’m breaking out in a fever. I don’t need to feel the warm trickle of blood down my front to know that I’ve busted my stitches.
I can’t stop now. Not until I save Seraphine. Not until I hold Samson Capello down while she carves out his heart.
We reach the balcony, and I’m the first one at its glass doors. Beyond them is an empty room, where two guards in black suits stand with their backs to me, their guns pointed at a reinforced metal door. I’m assuming Roman’s men are standing on the other side, trying to shoot their way in.
There’s no sign of Seraphine, but I spot a door to the left of the space.
Roman joins my side, and we both take aim at the men and fire through the glass. They drop to the ground, and Roman opens the door.
“After you.”
“Don’t shoot Samson,” I say. “He belongs to Seraphine.”
Roman scowls and is about to argue when there’s a scream from the door on the left. My stomach lurches.
It’s her.
I push past Roman and rush through the door into an infirmary. Seraphine is lying strapped to a table, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. Two figures stand over her, one of them I recognize as Miko, and he’s holding a scalpel. The larger one whirls around, revealing the twisted features of Samson Capello.
Samson’s eyes widen. His gaze bounces from me to Roman before he bursts into a high-pitched giggle.
“Montesano? You’ve come to rescue the girl who?—”
I shoot Samson in the gut.
Roman shoots me a glare.
“He and his twisted family kept her as their toy since she was sixteen,” I snarl. “He doesn’t get to disrespect her honor.”
Roman’s eyes soften, and he nods, seeming to understand.
It wasn’t a complete lie. Seraphine might have killed Uncle Enzo, but she had no choice. Samson doesn’t get to recast what she did as a cold-blooded assassination.
As I move toward Seraphine, Miko edges around the table brandishing the scalpel. “Stay back,” he says. “I haven’t finished installing the chip.”
“Put down the scalpel,” I say through clenched teeth.