EPOV
I would like to think I'm a smart man. Cunning in business, ruthless in the mob, fair and loyal to the men that are the same to myself. And yet, when I got that phone call I went berserk.
I threw the phone and its base across the room where it shattered the glass table nestled in between the sofas. I screamed until my throat was sore and all the guards in the house came running. I punched the wall until my hands were bloodied and the drywall was as fucked up as I felt. On my knees, I vomited on the carpet in front of the toughest group of men I'd ever met. I almost laid myself directly in it, but Felix caught me up and walked me to the couch.
I sat hunched over, my head in my hands. I would give anything to have her back, including the goddamn company, but that's not how the families operated. I wouldn't take the papers and hand over the girl. I would never kidnap a wife at all, of course. They were supposed to be off limits. But I would be waiting to fill the guy with bullets the second he was in sight, then I'd have the company and the girl, not to mention taking over their family.
My cell rang again, and I fished it out of my pocket. “What,” I answered in a bleak voice.
“Boss. Our mole came through. He says Aro sent Caius and Marcus to take her into their custody, and Black let them in the safe house. Apparently she took down one guy, he wasn't sure which, and almost took out Black before she was chloroformed by Aro himself. He was waiting in the car, but they went and got him when things went south. They cleaned up everything except for what they wanted us to find.”
I felt mixed sensations of pride and awe in my wife, along with the terror that had gripped me after the ransom call. “We make a plan, and we take them all out. No survivors, Emmett. Figure out where they're holding her, because I know without a doubt they won't let me walk away from that drop.”
“I'll get the mole on it. What’ll you do in the meantime?”
“Try incredibly hard not to kill anybody in my anger and frustration,” I answered dryly.
“Gotcha. I'll call when I know more.”
“Thanks, Em. Really.”
“Of course, boss.”
I hung up with a sense of calm dread. I knew we needed to come up with a plan, because there was no other option. I felt sick thinking of a drugged up Bella tied to a chair in a freezing cold warehouse, unable to defend herself. It was unacceptable. She wasn't an innocent, because I'd pulled her into this business, but women and children were strictly off limits.
I got a call back from Emmett later in the day; the mole overheard the location when two Volturi morons discussed it openly. Our mole, whose identity I didn't even know, would be brought in if this operation went smoothly, given a large bonus and a cushy job from now on. He could even be a made man if he chose, because he'd earned my trust with his loyalty. As long as he was on the up and up, and this went off without a hitch from a traitorous fucker. It was harder and harder to find someone to be loyal and not looking for the highest pay off. Of course, if it turned out he was setting us up, he'd find himself six feet under.
I paced the bedroom, trying to come up with the best plan to get Bella out without getting myself killed. I plotted, changed my mind, rearranged my men and the weapons we brought in. I guzzled energy drinks, fueling the crazed fire I was operating on.
As the sun touched the horizon, the rays creeping in around the heavy curtains, I solidified my plans. Emmett and Jasper and I checked our arsenal, and the rest of my men met us at the warehouse district. It was just past dawn, but they were strapped to the hilt, dressed head to toe in black, and ready to roll.
We got the call with the warehouse they were holding her in, and took several SUVs to a location a few blocks away from the target. We went the rest of the way on foot, in teams of three spread out in a web-like pattern. As we drew closer, Jasper went ahead of us to scale the roof. The sun was struggling to appear from behind dark clouds, which could only help us in the long run. According to our intel, there were five men and Isabella in the warehouse. One of those men was none other than Jacob Black, who I couldn't credit as the mastermind. He wasn't that smart. It didn't matter what his involvement was, his punishment was unequivocally death. He was mine, and I would take great pleasure in tearing him limb from limb for playing the long con, and most definitely for his role in hurting my wife.
She was my only reason for breathing, and so I would ensure he no longer had that privilege.
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