Leo’s POV
The second I stepped out of the car, my chest was on fire. Rage. Fear. Desperation. Every breath burned like I was inhaling acid.
Matteo’s voice was sharp behind me, issuing orders, but I barely heard him. All I saw was red. All I felt was the weight of my gun in my hand and the thought of her in their hands.
Isabella.
Every corridor of that warehouse echoed with gunfire. My men moved like shadows, swift and lethal, but I didn’t wait for them. I pushed forward, merciless, each shot tearing through the bastards who dared to touch what was mine.
A man lunged from the corner with a knife—his blade never touched me. One squeeze of the trigger and his skull snapped back, blood painting the wall. Another tried to grab his rifle—two bullets to the chest, and he collapsed.
I wasn’t
