“Yes, boss.”
To another soldier, I say, “Gather the maids and every other staff member that’s still breathing for questioning.”
He nods and quickly darts out of the sitting room.
Minutes later, when the lights come on, I glance around me. “Tear the mansion apart.”
Getting to destroy the place Mazur calls home doesn’t do anything to lessen the frustration swirling inside me.
Fucking, bastard! You can run, but I swear I will find you – if it’s the last thing I do.
While my men get to work destroying every piece of furniture, a wooden box grabs my attention. Thinking it’s a cigar holder, I flip the lid up, then stare at the rows of bullets. Taking one out, I see a name inscribed on the side.
Agnes.
I check another one.
Nikodem.
So the rumor is true. Mazur keeps a bullet for each of his employees.
Where he uses fear to inspire loyalty, I chose a different method. There’s only one thing that overrules fear. Money. People will do a lot of dumb shit for the right amount.
“The staff are gathered in the basement,” Kerem, one of my soldiers, informs me.
Nodding, my lip curls in distaste, and with one last hateful glance around the sitting room, I follow Kerem to where the staff are waiting to be questioned.
The basement is dimly lit, eight beds lined against the walls. I only count seven people and assume the girl I shot is number eight.
“Where’s Mazur?” I ask, my sharp gaze checking each of their faces for any sign of emotion.
They remain silent, their eyes trained on the concrete floor.
“The sooner you talk, the quicker you can get back to your lives,” Emre adds.
The oldest, a man who looks like a butler, says, “We don’t know. There’s a tunnel beneath the house. Mr. Mazur probably left via it.”
“Where’s the entrance to the tunnel?” I ask, glad they’re not making this hard for themselves. I get no pleasure from torturing innocent people.
“It’s in the garage,” the elderly man answers.
“You have no idea where Mazur will go to hide?” Emre asks.
The man shakes his head. “We know nothing about his business. We only work here.”
Glancing at Daniel, who joined us during the questioning, I say, “Find the tunnel, and check where it goes.”
“Yes, boss.”
I gesture for Emre to take care of the staff, then head toward the stairs.
“Pack up and leave,” Emre instructs Mazur’s staff. He also gives orders to some of our soldiers, and when he catches up to me, he asks, “What now?”
“Now we fucking start over and find out where the bastard is,” I growl, unhappy as fuck that tonight didn’t go as planned.
“Mazur will probably hear that you’re out for his blood. We’ve lost the advantage of a surprise attack.”
Leaving the mansion, we get into the back of the SUV. Mirac slides behind the steering wheel. “Home?”
“Evet.”
That woman better survive. She might have information that will make the hunt for Mazur easier. It can’t be a coincidence that she bumped into me today.
I start to check my clothes for any kind of tracking device she might’ve planted on me, but not finding any, I relax back against the seat.
Sucking in a deep breath of air, I exhale slowly, then mutter, “It’s fine if Mazur knows I’m coming for him. Let him fucking scurry around like a rat trying to figure out why I attacked.”
I fucking hope he’s consumed by fear and confusion.
When I get home, I shrug out of my jacket and hand it to Nisa, my housekeeper. “Selam,” I greet her.
Nisa makes sure the entire household runs smoothly, and she provides company for my grandmother.
“Selam, Gabriel Bey.” Her words are accompanied by a relieved smile.
I head up the grand staircase, making my way to the east wing of the mansion. The moment I step into my grandmother’s private sitting room, her eyes scan every inch of my body, relief washing over her wrinkled features.
“I’m fine,” I murmur to set her at ease.
“Good. And Emre?” She asks, her eyebrows drawing together again.
“He’s in good health,” I assure her.
“Tanrıya şükür.” She murmurs her thanks to God.
Reaching the armchair she’s sitting on, I drop down to one knee and take hold of her hand. With my head lowered, I swallow hard on the bitterness as I admit, “Mazur got away. I failed.”
She lifts her other hand to my head, her touch loving and forgiving. “You’ll find out where he ran to.”
I nod, and lifting my eyes, I look at the woman who raised me. She’s only worn black since my father died. Over the past thirty years, not a day has passed where she didn’t mourn her son.
“I will.” Steel laces my words.
Climbing to my feet, I bend over her and press a kiss to the top of her head. “Söz veriyorum.” （I promise.）
Chapter 5
Gabriel
There’s no fucking sign of Mazur. It makes my blood boil, knowing I was so close, but he managed to slip away.
Walking down the cobbled path, the landscaped garden bathing the grounds with green ferns and rose bushes forms an oasis around me. My grandmother has always loved gardening. Whenever she’s pruning a bush or strolling through the greenery, she’s truly at peace.
I open the door to the cottage, and stepping inside, I look at Murat, the soldier I have guarding the woman I stole from Mazur.
“Has she woken up?” I ask.
He shakes his head, glancing toward the bedroom. “But Dr. Bayram said she’s out of the woods. You just missed him. He’ll be back in a couple of hours to check on her.”
“She’s healing?” I ask. It’s not out of concern. I just hope she’ll have information I can use against Mazur.
Mazur nods. “Everything went well with the surgery. Dr. Bayram has her on an IV for medication.”
Letting out a sigh, I walk to the bedroom, then stare down at the unconscious woman. She’s pale as fuck.
She’s probably in her early twenties, her light brown hair now loose and forming a halo around her face. Even though she’s plain-looking, a small button nose and wide mouth give her an innocent look.
“Why were you at Aqua?” I murmur, the need to find out everything she knows making me want to shake her awake.
A soft gasp escapes her, and as her features tighten with pain, her lashes slowly lift, revealing the striking blue eyes that annoyed the ever-loving shit out of me when she bumped into me outside the restaurant.
Jesus, they’re the clearest blue I’ve ever seen.
A frown deepens on her forehead, and the moment I take a step closer to the bed, her gaze snaps to me. Instantly confusion flutters over her face, then she weakly whispers, “You?”
Tilting my head, my eyes sharpen on her, but before I can demand any answers to my questions, her eyes drift shut, and she slips back into unconsciousness.
“Fuck,” I mutter. “You couldn’t stay awake for one minute?” Not having more time to waste, I stalk out of the room and instruct Murat, “Call me when she’s awake.”
Leaving the mansion, Mirac drives me to the club, where Emre’s already hard at work, receiving a shipment of Glocks fitted with tactical flashlights and suppressors from Luca Cotroni that are destined for Nikolas Stathoulis in Vancouver.