Chapter 8
1079 Words
Nicholas didn’t waste time.
The moment Elara was taken, he unleashed hell.
His men were already mobilizing, scouring every lead, every security feed, every f*****g rat that dared to breathe in his city.
But Nicholas?
He wasn’t waiting.
He kicked the steel door open, stepping into the dimly lit warehouse where three of Montenegro’s men were tied to chairs, blood dripping from their mouths.
The air smelled of sweat and fear.
Nicholas rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck.
Then he reached for the crowbar.
One of the men started begging. “W-Wait—”
CRACK.
Nicholas swung the crowbar straight into his knee.
The man’s scream pierced the air.
Nicholas tilted his head, watching as he writhed.
“Where is she?” His voice was calm. Controlled. Deadly.
No one answered.
He exhaled, then turned to the second man.
Without a word, he drove the crowbar into his ribs.
Another scream. More blood.
Nicholas crouched, his face inches from the man’s.
“Where. The f**k. Is she?”
The man sobbed, but still—nothing.
Nicholas smiled.
Then—he snapped his fingers.
His second-in-command, Luca, stepped forward, holding a blowtorch.
The last man, the youngest of the three, started shaking violently.
Nicholas’s gaze flicked to him.
Bingo.
He stalked forward, crouching before the trembling bastard.
“You’re smart, aren’t you?” Nicholas mused. “You don’t want to die like them.”
The man swallowed hard.
Nicholas leaned in.
“Where. Is. She?”
A beat of silence.
Then—
“Warehouse 46,” the man gasped.
Nicholas smiled.
And then—he pulled the trigger.
A single gunshot.
The man slumped, lifeless.
Nicholas rose to his feet, turning to Luca.
“Mobilize the team,” he ordered. “We hit them in twenty minutes.”
Luca nodded. “And Victor?”
Nicholas’s expression turned lethal.
“He’s mine.”
Meanwhile…
Elara groaned as she regained consciousness, her wrists raw from the restraints.
Her head pounded, but it was nothing compared to the icy dread settling in her gut.
She was tied to a chair, the scent of oil and metal thick in the air.
A warehouse.
She wasn’t alone.
Victor Montenegro stood a few feet away, arms crossed.
“Ah, you’re awake.”
Elara swallowed the nausea rising in her throat.
“What do you want?” she rasped.
Victor smirked. “Simple, sweetheart.” He crouched beside her, brushing a finger along her jaw.
“I want to see Nicholas Wolfe break.”
Her stomach twisted.
“He’s coming for you,” Victor continued, voice dripping with amusement. “But the real question is…”
His fingers trailed down her neck.
“…will there be anything left of you by the time he gets here?”
Elara refused to flinch.
She met his gaze head-on.
“You have no idea what you’ve just done,” she whispered.
Victor’s smirk faltered.
Elara leaned in, eyes glinting.
“You’ve just signed your own death warrant.”
Because Nicholas Wolfe?
He was coming.
And when he did—
He would burn them all to the ground.
The night air was thick with tension.
Warehouse 46 loomed in the distance, surrounded by armed guards. Victor’s men.
Nicholas stood on the rooftop across the street, watching. Calculating.
His heartbeat was steady. Cold. Controlled.
But inside?
Inside, he was a storm waiting to be unleashed.
Luca knelt beside him, sniper rifle in hand. “We can take them out from here.”
Nicholas didn’t blink. “No.”
Luca glanced at him. “No?”
Nicholas’s lips curled.
“They don’t get to die that easy.”
He rose to his feet, slipping his gun into his holster.
“We go in. Close. Personal.”
Luca exhaled a dark chuckle. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
Nicholas turned to the rest of his team, all dressed in black, armed to the teeth.
“Kill anyone who gets in our way,” he ordered.
“But Victor?” His voice dropped to a lethal whisper.
“He’s mine.”
The team nodded.
Nicholas checked his watch. 00:03.
It was time.
Time to tear this f*****g place apart.
Elara struggled against her restraints.
Her wrists were raw, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t.
She knew Nicholas was coming.
And she knew what that meant.
Chaos. Blood. Death.
A part of her was terrified of what he might do.
Of the man she would see when he walked through those doors.
Because Nicholas Wolfe wasn’t coming to save her.
He was coming to destroy.
The heavy steel door swung open.
Victor strolled in, hands in his pockets, smirking.
He crouched beside her, tilting his head.
“No tears?” he mused. “No begging?”
Elara met his gaze, her chin high.
“You should run,” she whispered.
Victor chuckled. “And why the hell would I do that?”
Elara’s lips curled.
“Because he’s already here.”
BOOM!
The entire warehouse shook as an explosion tore through the front entrance.
Victor’s smirk vanished.
Gunfire erupted. Screams followed.
Elara’s heart slammed against her ribs.
Because she knew—
Nicholas was here.
And he was merciless.
Nicholas moved like a shadow.
Silent. Deadly. Unstoppable.
The first guard barely had time to react before Nicholas’s knife slit his throat.
The second turned—too late.
A single gunshot, straight through the head.
Nicholas didn’t stop.
He pushed forward, stepping over bodies, his rage controlled but burning.
Victor had taken his woman.
And now?
Now, he was going to watch him die.
He reached the door.
Beyond it, he could hear Victor’s voice—cursing. Panicked.
Nicholas smiled.
Then—
He kicked the door open.
The doors burst open.
And there he was.
Nicholas Wolfe.
Dressed in black, covered in blood, eyes burning with rage.
Elara’s breath caught.
Because this wasn’t just the man she knew.
This was the monster he kept caged.
Victor staggered back. “s**t—”
Nicholas raised his gun—
And fired.
The bullet tore through Victor’s shoulder, sending him crashing to the ground.
Nicholas stalked forward, gun still aimed.
Victor scrambled back. “W-Wait—”
Nicholas fired again.
This time—his knee.
Victor screamed.
Nicholas’s face remained impassive. Cold.
“Elara.” His voice was sharp. “Close your eyes.”
She didn’t.
She couldn’t.
Because she knew—
Nicholas Wolfe was about to end a man.
And she needed to see exactly who he was.
- Writer
