I wake up to my fucking phone going off. I feel like hell. I drank a bottle of Jack last night, and I’m really feeling it. But I don’t even fucking care. I feel like shit. Maybe if I drink enough I’ll convince myself the hangover is why my chest aches and the fucking scowl won’t leave my face.

I swallow hard. I don’t give a shit about Becca. I just wanted to fuck that sweet ass of hers. I probably only wanted her because she was such a challenge. I shake my head, slowly so I don’t make myself any dizzier than I am. That’s all it was. She was just a bit harder to get. That’s the only reason I wanted her. The only reason she got under my skin.

“This better be good.” I answer the phone with a pissed off tone clear in my voice. I don’t feel like doing shit today. I half hope that someone comes without their money. No, fuck that. I’ll just go to the gym. It’s been a while since I’ve really pushed myself with the punching bags.

“Boss.” I jackknife off the bed at Johnny’s tone and wait silently. Something’s wrong. I don’t like how long he pauses. I can hear him taking in a heavy breath.

“Spit it out.” I can only imagine it’s about Vince. They must’ve got him on some fucked up charge.

“We gotta message, boss. I don’t know how they found her.” My heart drops like a fucking anchor. He quickly adds, “I swear there was nothing on the tapes. I don’t know how they got her.” His voice raises with anxiety.

“Tell me everything, Johnny.” I’m calm. Deadly calm. Suddenly, I don’t feel a fucking thing from my hangover. All I see is red.

“I got a text with a video. They have your girl, Rebecca.”

“Who and where?” That’s all that matters. I just need that info, and I’ll get her back. She’s mine. I don’t give a fuck what she said last night in the heat of the moment. I don’t give a fuck if she pushes me away again.

She’s mine.

“De Luca.” I hear Johnny swallow, and that pisses me off. I wait for more while I climb out of bed and throw on the first clothes I find. Sweats and a white tee.

I snarl into the phone, “Where!” He better fucking know.

“We’re on it now.” My hand tightens around the phone, and I have to close my eyes. My shoulders rise and fall with my angered breaths.

“Someone decided to send us a message. To send me a message. And they didn’t give any instructions? You aren’t able to track the message?”

“It-It’s just a video.” My blood turns to ice. I glossed over it earlier in my haste when he first mentioned it, but a video means there’s something to see. Fuck, no. I wait for more. I don’t want to ask.

“They roughed her up, Dom.” I can’t breathe. I swallow down my heart, which feels like it's trying to climb out of my throat.

“She alright, Johnny?”

“She’ll be alright. I promise you, Dom. We’ll get her back, and she’ll be alright.” I wanna ask, but I can’t. I just need to get to her. I need to see for myself.

“What about her son?” A panic spreads through every inch of me. He’s just a child. They better not have touched him.

“Preschool. He’s still in class.”

“Get him out now. Give him to Ma, and don’t let either of them out of your sight. You hear me, Johnny?”

“I got you, boss. I’m on it.” Damn right he is. No harm is coming to her son. No one’s hurting him. Over my dead body.

“We’ve got to find Becca now, Johnny. How long ago did the video come in?”

“Fifteen minutes.” He’s quick to answer.

“How long does Tony need?” I ask with a calmer voice than I thought I could manage. I shove my shoes on and walk out the door with my keys in my hand. I don’t know where to go. I don’t know where she is. But I can’t fucking sit around just waiting. I need to do something.

I’m the reason she’s in this mess.

“Any minute. We’ll know any minute now,” he answers.

“I’m calling Tony. Call me the second you hear anything.”

“I will, boss.”

I hang up the phone and quickly dial Tony’s number. As I listen to it ring, the full weight of everything crushes my chest.

It’s my fault.

I led them to her.

I must have. I couldn’t stay away. I ruined her.

My eyes close as the phone goes to voicemail. Because of me, she may be dead right now.

* * *

“You sure this is it?” I’ve got two guns on me in holsters, and another in my lap. I chamber the round and lean forward in my seat, looking at the rundown warehouse. They better fucking be in there. It’s been forty minutes. That’s too fucking long. I watched that video over and over, looking for any kind of clue. My gut sinks, and my fists clench. My poor Becca. She doesn’t deserve this shit. I got her into this mess, and I’m gonna get her out.

“This is it, boss,” Johnny answers. Vince leans between the two front seats as the car behind us parks.

“Time to kill some De Luca fuckers.”

“Let’s go.” I’m the first out of the car. If they’ve got eyes on the parking lot, they’re gonna see us coming. There’s no way around it. It’s a warehouse in the middle of nowhere on a huge concrete pad with a runway for planes. There’s no hiding. No getting in or out undetected.

I hear the guys get out and come up behind me as another one of our cars pulls in. I don’t wait though. I’ve waited long enough. All of us will come. The entire family is coming to kill these fuckers. You don’t mess with one of us and get away with it. We’ll find you. We’ll hunt you down, and make you pay.

That’s what we do.

Jack is the only one not here. But he’d be here if he could. I know he would.

We form a V, with me leading the way to the large steel double doors. There’s a chain and a lock on them. Anthony comes up behind me with the bolt cutters while we all keep our guns raised. The heavy steel chain drops to the ground with a loud clank, and he quickly bends and pulls it away so I can pull the doors apart. They open with a loud groan.

They definitely know we’re here.

A cold sweat breaks out across my body. They better not have touched her. That image that flashed through my mind yesterday, of her cold and dead on the ground, flashes into my vision again. I try to blink it away, but it won’t disappear. I shake my head and grind my teeth, keeping my gun held high. The huge room is empty, with concrete floors that are rundown, but bare. No place to hide. Which is good and bad. It’s two stories with a thin hall lining the upper level. It’s made of rickety wire mesh flooring so each inch is visible. Six doors are on each level, with two on each side and the back wall.

She’s behind one of them. Twelve doors to look through.

My gun moves to each door, each corner. Empty.

“Start at the left. Bottom floor,” I call out with determination and confidence.

“We splittin’, Dom?” Pops' voice rings out, but I shake my head. I’m calling the shots. My problem, and my girl. I’m grateful Pops is ready to back me up. I don’t know how many of them there are. I want our numbers high.

I lower my gun as I reach the first door. I look back at the crew as I test the handle. Locked. I bet they’re all fucking locked. They’re steel doors. Not fucking easy to break down, but we got this.

I put my gun up to the keyhole and fire. Once, twice, three times. I give it a hard kick, and it jostles slightly. Another shot, and another kick. Everyone has their guns ready to fire as the doors open. They swing open with a bang, crashing into the walls. Boxes are piled high, nearly to the ceiling in several rows. I take a step in with caution, keeping my gun in front of me as I sweep the room. But a faint muffled sound from a distance makes me stop.

I motion for everyone to be still. I swear I heard something. I swear I did. I almost move forward, but then I hear it again. She's not in this room. I hustle my ass past everyone and move on to the next door. My Becca. I hear the sound clearer as I reach the door in the back left corner.

Locked.

Bang! Bang! Bang! I kick it open with no mercy, making my leg scream in pain. Again I fire, and then so does Johnny. We fire together, kick together. The door swings open, and my heart stops. My Becca is hanging upside down, tied up by her ankles over a sink to the right of the room. Her head has her just barely balanced on the edge of a sink that’s overflowing. Her hair is soaked.

They left her to drown. They tied her up, and put her head in a sink and filled it. As I take in the sight of her, she slips and her head falls back into the water. I run to her as her body thrashes, and she tries to swing herself to the edge again. I pull her head out as soon as I get to her. Guns fire around me. I don’t even know where mine is. I don’t bother looking up. A bullet whizzes by my head as men shoot. My family and others return fire. Footsteps ring out on the steel stairs at the back of the room. More gunshots. But all I can really hear is my doll breathing, gasping for air.

My fighter. My survivor. I rip the soaked blindfold off her eyes and turn off the faucet.

“It’s alright. I got you.”

“Dom!” she screams out, and sputters up water.

“It’s me, doll. I got you.” She shudders in my arms as I lift her weight up and try to cradle her body as best I can. My entire body is trembling. Loud, heavy footsteps race toward me. The screaming has stopped. The guns aren’t firing anymore.

“They got away, boss!” I barely hear Johnny yell. I don’t care.

“Jax?” Becca’s head falls back, heavy against my arm. She shaking from the freezing water. Her skin is ice cold and pale. Her teeth chatter, and her eyes refuse to focus on me.

“He’s safe, doll. You’re both safe. I got you.”

At my words, her body goes limp. Her eyes close. Fuck no. I jostle her in my arms, but she’s still.

“Help her!” I hold her closer to me and shake her body to try to wake her as I scream. “Somebody help me get her down!”