His Mafia Prince
Chapter 215: Too High A Price

Chapter 215: Too High A Price

(JERICHO)

The air in the warehouse is growing thicker by the second, and the walls feel like they are closing in on me. The tension is escalating and I can’t avoid thinking about what might happen should Sawyer just put a little more pressure on that trigger. I try to catch Sasha’s eye to tell him to not give in. My mind races with all manner of thoughts, trying to figure out how they even got Tyler, and how we missed this play.

Then goes the sound of a metallic clang, followed by a grunt and the sound of flesh hitting flesh. I flinch at first then realize that Miles already reached the other side of the room. Did he find Tyler? And how many more people are we facing that we aren’t aware of? The fact that there may be more people here is a possibility. The thought of that makes me shudder. Peter’s head snaps up, and the gun slightly wavers from my temple.

"What’s going on up there?" he calls, eyes trained on Sasha.

Silence answers him, followed by a body that tumbles on the catwalk railing, crashing onto a stack of wooden pallets below. Another one of his allies’ unconscious form lies sprawled amid the splintered wood as blood trickles from his nose.

"Fuck!" Peter lets out a string of cusses and his grip loosens for a fraction of a second. Then a sudden thought creeps in my mind. If I’m going to save myself, this is the time. Then again I have to remind myself that he is the one who’s got the weapon, and should I fail, my brains will be splattered on this floor in a split second. Either way, I have to do something. Anything. I need to strike now that he is still distracted.

Acting purely on instinct, I drive my elbow into his solar plexus. The way a whoosh of air leaves his lungs is satisfactory, I must say. The gun goes off, shot deafening. I twist away and my fist connects with Peter’s jaw, which sends him staggering backwards.

"Sasha, now!" I shout.

Miles drops from the catwalk, lands behind Peter swiftly then wraps an arm around his throat, cutting his air supply. "Drop the gun." He growls, tightening his hold.

Realizing that he is helpless, Peter begins to claw at Miles’ arm, face turning red. He wheezes, gasping for air but Miles is relentless and presses on his throat harder. He soon realizes that he is only making things worse by fighting and he’s probably going to wind up dead like his son. Not so mighty now considering the way they marched in here. The gun clatters to the concrete floor.

"Tyler! We need to find Tyler."

Sasha’s face is carved with cold burning fury, worse than I’ve ever seen my entire life. An attack on his omega meant an attack on him, and even though my life was on the hang, I’m certain that that is what made him see red. Somebody planned this and he was going to make them all pay. He aims his gun between Peter’s eyes.

"Where is he?" he demands with such menacing calm. He is my brother, but right now, I would fear him too.

Despite Miles’ chokehold, Peter forces a laugh. "You’re too late. He is probably halfway to the border with Connor now."

"Wrong answer." Sasha lodges a bullet on his knee. Peter’s screams fill the space and sound like music to my ears as Miles lets him go and he crumples on the floor. Blood pools beneath his shattered kneecap and he screams in agony. Sasha steps closer and plants his boot on the shattered knee. "You want to try that again?" he asks, voice dripping with malice. "Where’s my husband?"

"Go to hell!" Peter gasps through gritted teeth.

"Miles," Sasha nods. "Check his phone."

I stand back and watch the action unfold in the distance. Of course, I would do anything to protect my omega, but I doubt I’d be this violent. Never once had I imagined that I’d see my brother like this. Merciless. No pity or regard for the man writhing below him. I know that he won’t hesitate to kill him in the most gruesome of ways. For Peter’s sake, Tyler better be alive and unharmed.

Miles perches then retrieves the phone, quickly scrolling through the messages. "Got it." He glances up and I let out a breath that I haven’t even realized that I had been holding. "Loading dock C, north side of the warehouse. Text from somebody named Connor O’Brien about twenty minutes ago."

"Jericho, with me." Sasha orders, already heading for the exit. "Make sure he doesn’t go anywhere, and find out everything he knows about this Connor guy."

"With pleasure." Miles’ lips curve into a sinister smirk as he cracks his muscles over Peter’s prone form.

Running to the loading dock is like walking through the gates of hell. It seems too far and the chill of the cold sinks into my skin. I know without doubt that we could be marching right into another trap, and Tyler might be hurt, if not gone already. I can’t bear the thought. All this happened because it was my idea to go after the Sawyers.

Sasha leads the way and I follow closely behind him. We hear struggle before we can see it, the sound of breaking glass and muffled shout.

Tyler!

We round the corner of the loading dock C and find Tyler fighting like a wild thing against some red headed guy trying to force him to the back of a van. Despite his bound handful manages to slam his head back into his captors face, what earns him a curse in a thick Irish accent.

"You little punk." The man raises his hand to strike Tyler.

Seeing his omega in distress, Sasha acts swiftly without thinking. Two shots ring, one after the other and Connor screams as one bullet tears through his shoulder and the other on his thigh. His arm drops to the ground uselessly and Tyler drives his knee to the man’s groin, which sends him to the ground.

Sasha surges forward across the space in seconds, putting himself between his omega and the would-be kidnapper. I quickly run to untie Tyler’s hands, my fingers working through ropes that left angry red marks on his skin as my brother presses his gun to Connor’s head. "Give me one reason why I shouldn’t spill your brains here right now." He snarls, voice trembling with barely contained rage.

Tyler stands aghast, unconsciously rubbing his knuckles together and his brows slanted over worried eyes. He looks okay, but who the hell knows what that man had put him through before we got here?

"Sasha," Tyler calls in a slow but steady voice, "Don’t. He is not worth it."

For a moment, Sasha doesn’t move. I know that deep down he wants to kill Connor and get it over and done with, but he will always listen to his omega. So, he shifts his aim instead and plants a bullet through Connor’s knee then darts to Tyler and throws his arms around him, careful to not hurt him. "Are you okay?"

He nods and holds him even tighter. "I am now."

Sasha holds Tyler’s face and kisses him.

After a moment, he pulls away, seeming like he hates doing it then looks into his eyes. "Did they hurt you?" he asks, hands ghosting over Tyler’s body checking for any injuries. My chest tightens as I watch them.

"No." Tyler whispers, collapsing on his cheat. "I’m sorry, I should have been more careful about leaving the house."

"Shh," Sasha murmurs, cradling Tyler’s face. "Nothing is your fault. I’m going to make them all pay for touching you."

Sasha wraps him in another hug and kisses his forehead, not trying to think about how much time has passed or what worse ordeal that’s happening on the other side. He just holds onto Tyler and breathes his scent. It seems like all he cares about is that his omega is now safe.

I should be watching the surroundings, securing the area.

I should be doing everything except standing here like some amateur rookie. Later, I will replay this moment a thousand times and tally my failures.

Because I don’t see Connor’s hand move to the ankle holster.

I don’t see him pull the backup piece.

I don’t see him aim.

But I hear shots, three of them. Deafening.

Tyler clutches on Sasha, jerking against him with each shot. But all that Sasha cares about is shielding his omega. Maybe he has too much adrenaline coursing to feel but shortly after, he jerks forward, a look of surprise crossing his face. We all freeze for a moment then the next thing I know is dark stains are blooming across my brother’s shirt. One on his lower back. Two higher up.

"No." Tyler’s scream tears through the air as Sasha crumbles.

My body moves before my brain catches up. The gun in my hand barks. Once, twice, thrice. Bullets tear through Connor’s chest, face, throat, everywhere. The piece clatters from his fingers and he falls back to the ground, but I can’t stop. I fire until the entire clip empties into him, releasing each shot with a scream that I can barely recognise as my own.

Click. Click. Click. Magazine empty. My whole body is shaking.

"Jericho!" Tyler’s desperate voice snaps me back to reality. "Help me! Please!"