Page 151 of Trapped Truth

“You think that’s an option?”

“…not working for free.”

Conversation floats towards us on dust-laden air particles. Hah. Even Madden’s staff are becoming disillusioned. I wish that meant we could spare them, but let’s face it, anyone taking money to work for a prolific mobster is hardly innocent.

“On three.” Hudson’s command is barely audible. “Not a sound.”

All indicating our assent, the group moves as one perfectly timed blur of violence. Hyland slams into his target, ramming a fist into his shocked face before silencing the scream. By comparison, Blaine moves in for the kill with precision, sweeping legs and slashing throats faster than any sound can erupt.

There’s no time to waste when a second wave emerges, this time carrying five armed guards. I quickly slot the silencer into place on my pistol then advance. We brutally clash somewhere in the middle, but I manage to pop off a leg shot that incapacitates my attacker.

He drops harder than a sack of potatoes, allowing me to dispense a precise kill shot between the eyes. On my left, Axel grapples with his own meathead, flashing me a grin as I dump another round into the fucker’s back. It allows Axel to gain the upper hand and knife his target right across the neck.

“Thanks.” He gives me a fist bump.

“Anytime. Where’s Ember?”

He gestures towards where our girl stands braced over a pool of spilled blood, chest undulating hard. I meet her stormy eyes and steal a sliver of relief from the clarity peering back at me.

“You good?” I double-check.

Ember nods. “Fine.”

“We need to move.” Azrael’s face is misted red. “Now!”

The buzz of comms in my ear where Hudson communicates with his brother is of little distraction. We vacate the room to ascend a large, curved staircase lacquered in a deep mahogany finish. Three more bodies block the path, soon falling victim to our assault.

Madden’s mansion seems to stretch on infinitely. Even the stairs wind upward in a never-ending loop, carrying us to floors high above the graveyard below. At the same time, the Falcon Team is descending into the bowels of purgatory to extract the captives.

The second floor opens up with wine-red carpets and more ugly oil paintings. This slice of sickening luxury is hardly the criminal mastermind lair that precedes Nolan Madden’s reputation.

“Incoming!” Hudson bellows.

“From where?” I whirl around, frantically scanning our surroundings.

“Everywhere!”

The attack launches from all directions. A whole cluster of armed assailants leap from the floor above to rain fury down on us while pockets of thugs emerge from their postings in various rooms, ready to unleash war.

I try to lunge towards Ember, intent on covering her rear, but pursuit is blocked by the arrival of a tall stack of muscles. Sans mask, he wears an eager grin, his silver switchblade open and ready to slice me wide open.

“Warner Mead,” he rumbles.

“You know me?”

“I’ve been warned. Coming here was a mistake.”

“The mistake is all yours, my friend.”

My reflexive step back creates a near-miss. This only seems to infuriate the bulked-up dude more. Curving the blade through the air, he advances towards me, slashing and stabbing in a rageful thirst.

Sloppy.

I’m not one to play with my kill.

Unloading the clip into his midsection carries my pursuer backwards from the sheer force of multiple bullets, his spine cracking into the wall. I watch in delight as a large painting falls and smashes on top of his head.

“Warner!” Hyland booms, engulfed by three thugs. “On me!”