Taming Seraphine

LEROI

FIVE YEARS LATER

A job as big as this needs a full team of operatives—a hacker to kill the alarms and block outbound communications; snipers to take out the guards at the mansion’s perimeter; inside men to give me the all-clear; and an armored truck to get me the hell out of this stronghold.

It’s a pity that all I have is a getaway driver and a stack of explosives that will light up the estate like the Fourth of July.

Anton would be the best person to ask for advice. My mentor is a veteran hitman, from back in the days when you had to identify targets with Polaroids. But I already know what he would say. Killing the entire Capello family isn’t just risky—it’s suicide.

“Leroi,” Miko’s voice whispers in my earpiece. “Morning guard just arrived.”

It’s taken weeks of analyzing the family’s routine and security system to work out the easiest way to take down Frederic Capello, which is why I infiltrated it as part of the hired help for the sixtieth birthday party he threw for himself. Instead of leaving the Capello mansion after the festivities, I stayed behind to enact the final stages of my plan.

Having arranged a series of altercations in the Capello Casino, I know the bulk of his security staff will be across town dealing with the shitstorm, leaving me free to execute this family.

Three hours later, with my face mask secured, I crawl out of the laundry room’s ventilation duct and make my way through the halls. By now, anyone that came into contact with the toothpaste, water bottles or painkillers I doctored should be passed out until at least noon.

I take the back staircase and make my way into the guest bedrooms. The silencer on my 9mm Glock keeps the noise at a minimum while I take out the distant Capello relatives who were unfortunate enough to have stayed the night.

I push open the bathroom door, and a long-haired figure jumps out from behind the shower curtain, thrusting a knife to my throat.

On instinct, I jump back and fire a shot into the person’s chest. He falls into the bathtub with a loud splash.

Shit.

The person I just shot is Capello’s first-born, Gregor, but noise wasn’t part of the plan. I fire another bullet between his eyes to make sure he’s dead and back out of the bathroom. Next time, I’ll have to be more careful.

One down, three to go.

The next bedroom belongs to the second son, Samson. He’s sprawled face-down on the bed, passed out from the revelry. I squeeze the trigger and lodge a bullet in the back of his skull.

In the master suite, Frederic Capello snores in an armchair, still dressed in his tuxedo. According to my research, he has liver problems, but he looks like the picture of health for a man of sixty. Placing the barrel of my gun against his forehead, I shoot.

Marisol Capello is in the bedroom, dressed in a black lace camisole. Her features are obscured by her long blonde hair, but there’s no mistaking her from the massive diamond on her ring finger. She’s the old man’s much younger, fourth wife. With the twins dead, she stands to inherit the syndicate’s assets if she survives the night.

My jaw clenches. No women or children. That’s my code, but it’s something I must break if I’m going to eliminate the Capellos and free my cousin from death row.

Damn it.

I take aim and shoot her in the heart.

So far, killing the Capellos is easy. Finding the recordings that will prove my cousin innocent will be tricky.

I return to the suite’s lounge area and extract a saw from my backpack. On a less perilous job, I would leave the target alive to open the biometric safe, but my time here is limited.

With a deep breath, I grab a cord, loop it into a tourniquet just above Capello’s wrist and pull it tight. After positioning his hand on the armrest, I get to work.

Blood splatters on the cream carpet. I step out of its path and continue sawing until I’ve secured the hand adorned with the Capello signet ring.

It’s still warm when I reach the safe. His thumbprint activates the lock, and I open the safe, finding stacks of folders, hard drives, and a bunch of shit I don’t have time to catalog.

Most syndicates gain strength through hard work, determination and the skillful application of violence, but Capello’s currency was information. He had dirt on every judge, every politician, every high-ranking police officer ,and official in the state of New Alderney and beyond. That, and a copious amount of backstabbing.

Everything goes into my bag, except the hand, which I still need. According to my intel, Capello’s secret weapon is in the basement.

The first rays of morning light filter in through the windows as I head down the stairs. A flash of movement at the far end of the manicured gardens tells me that my time is running low. I press the old man’s index finger up to the reader and the door to the basement unlocks with a deafening click.

It’s dark inside, save for a flickering TV at the far end of the vast space. I don’t bother turning on the light in case that triggers an alarm, but I raise the pistol and make my way toward the screen.

“Leroi,” Miko hisses through the earpiece. “A delivery van’s approaching the gates.”

“Good,” I whisper. “Keep me informed.”

The driver of that van is a poker buddy who will attempt to deliver an incorrectly addressed package. His job is to distract the guards with his incompetence, in case what’s in the basement is time consuming.

I flip on my headlamp to illuminate my way, passing exercise equipment and a tiny kitchenette. So far, there’s no sign of another safe. There is, however, a small figure lying on a bed.

It’s a girl with pale blond hair and a bruised eye. It’s hard to tell her age in the dark, but she’s frail. Her breaths are shallow, and the tightness of her jaw tells me she might be awake.

She lies in the fetal position wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt and a metal collar. It’s a four inch wide band of steel with a thick compartment at the front that glows with red light. Everything about it reminds me of the device Anton uses on his farm to train his sheep dogs.

My nostrils flare when it dawns on me.

It’s a shock collar.

Fuck. I knew Capello was dirty, but sex slaves in the basement? That bullet through the skull was too merciful.

A D-ring at the front of her collar connects to a chain that disappears beneath the bed. Based on the level of security in this house, it’s probably linked to an alarm system.

The weight of my backpack settles on my shoulders, a reminder that my cousin, Roman, is in prison for a crime he didn’t commit. I have enough information to free him, but it will only help if I leave now, before the guards realize the family is dead. Now, before they come after me in a rain of gunfire.

My breath hitches. Can I really leave this girl in the basement?

If the only people who can access this place are dead, then it’s only a matter of weeks before she starves. If she’s found, then someone might hand her over to another monster for the same treatment, or worse.

I can’t leave her to either fate.

Maybe I should shoot her in the head and send her straight to heaven. I dismiss that thought in an instant. I don’t kill kids.

Crouching beside her, I pull up my mask and whisper, “Can you hear me?”

The girl doesn’t move, but her breathing stills for a moment before resuming. She’s probably terrified. Who knows how long she’s been down here and what she’s suffered?

“The people who did this to you are dead,” I say, my voice soft. “I’m going to get you out of here, but you’ll need to stay quiet, understood?”

She cracks open her swollen eye and inhales a sharp breath.

“Is your collar alarmed?”

She nods.

Fuck. I could cut the mansion’s power, but there’s no time. Any sudden lack of lighting might also alert the guards. I clench my jaw so tightly that my molars grind. Anton has always said there’s a loophole to every alarm. I just need to ask the right question.

“Does it sound in the house?” I ask.

She shakes her head.

My jaw unclenches. “Does the alarm alert a device?”

She nods.

“Whose?”

She lowers her lashes.

“Leroi,” Miko whispers. “The guards are making the delivery guy unload his van.”

My pulse quickens. Time is running out. By now, I should have found the alleged second safe and retrieved the secret weapon. There’s only so much time the guy I paid to pretend to have the package can keep the guards occupied before they point a gun to his head and tell him to get lost.

Fuck the secret weapon. This innocent girl needs saving. I need more information on the workings of this collar. And fast. Without thinking, I raise a hand, and she flinches.

“Hey…” I lift my palms. “I won’t hurt you, but I need you to answer some more questions. If I disable your collar, will any of the guards know?”

She shakes her head.

My adrenaline surges. I could ask if anyone other than the Capellos would know if I tampered with the collar, but this going back and forth is already taking too long.

I reach into my backpack, extract a set of bolt cutters, and snap the D-ring. The chain attached to it falls, but I catch it before it hits the floor.

The girl shuffles to the corner of the bed, wraps her arms around her chest, and gazes up at me through terrified, blue eyes.

I slide off my jacket and toss it in her direction. “Put this on.”

Even with my head turned away and the light shining in another direction, I’m aware of her scrambling into the jacket. Her desperate little breaths awaken long-forgotten stirrings of conscience. Did I really consider putting a bullet through her head?

In the twenty years I’ve spent on this job, I’ve never felt an ounce of emotion for any of my targets—not even contempt. That spreads to the rest of my life. The only exception is the small family I’ve formed with Anton and Miko. Seeing this girl chained up like a dog reminds me too much of the reason why I became an assassin.

As soon as I’m sure she’s ready, I offer her my hand. “We need to go.”

The girl stands on trembling legs, her arms wrapped around her middle. She’s vulnerable and small and still hasn’t uttered a word. What did those sick bastards do to her?

“Come.” My fingers twitch.

She motions with her head at something over my shoulder. I turn to find what’s on the monitor. It’s a shirtless and emaciated man sitting up on a bed with his head bowed. The rise and fall of his chest is the only thing indicating that he’s alive.

With his surroundings so dark, there’s no telling his location. But one thing’s for damn sure is that we need to leave. Now.

“The driver’s backing out,” Miko says into my earpiece.

“Don’t activate anything until you see us approaching the car,” I mutter.

“Us?” he asks.

“Later.”

Pulling my mask over my face, I turn to the girl, who shrinks away and points at the screen. Frustration wells in my chest, but I keep the impatience out of my voice. “You can tell me who that man is on the road.”

Her trembling fingers meet mine for an instant before her knees buckle. I scoop her into my arms, snatch the backpack containing the information needed to free my cousin, Roman, and sprint across the basement.

In a few minutes, Miko will detonate a bomb at the other side of the property, and all hell will break loose.