Shattered. The only world that I could think of. There was blood covering the front stoop, strings of it leading into the entrance hall, even crimson handprints on two of the walls. Vases had been turned over, the entrance hall mirror smashed.
The first soldier lay dead halfway into the kitchen, shot in the back of the head at close range. The second had fought like a son of a bitch, refusing to give up the battle until his torso had been riddled with bullets.
The kitchen and the great room showed signs of the same kind of violence, a battle fought for supremacy. And our side lost. Whatever the fuck side we were on.
"Francesca!" I raced throughout the house, searching every room. Other than a few beads of blood on the kitchen counter, there were no other signs of her. Nothing. It was as if she'd disappeared.
Or had been taken.
I stood in the middle of the hallway, roaring to whatever gods there might be above. They'd forsaken me, much like every other aspect of my life. But hell, I deserved it. Who the hell was the Slayer?
"What the hell happened here?" Grinder asked, whistling through his teeth.
"Get a call out to every fucking soldier. Whoever did this will pay. Find her. Fucking find her!"
Grinder nodded over and over again before backing away, fumbling as he tugged out his phone. Of course, he'd never seen me in this condition. I stepped through the broken glass, my fingers shaking as I jerked a chair into an upright position. The black square on the floor sent a shot of adrenaline coursing through my veins.
My phone.
Hunkering down and yanking it into my hand, the fact the screen was covered with drops of blood further fueled my despair. Francesca had suffered; therefore, the person responsible for abducting her would be tormented tenfold. I almost shoved it into my pocket before standing, eyeing the screen. I had a password, not one anyone should know.
What if she'd seen me making a call? There was nothing I'd put past her. I loathed the fact my hand was shaking as I attempted to slide my finger across the cracked glass. There was no time for anything but serious concentration. I held my breath, moving toward the outbound calls.
Fucking. Shit.
She'd made a call shortly after I'd left. Every muscle tense, every blood vessel engorged, I glared at the unknown number.
An international call.
And I seriously doubted it belonged to her father.
As Grinder came back into the room, I held up my hand, needing total silence. The call went through, two, three, now four rings.
Then nothing. The ringing simply stopped.
I already had the phone away from my ear before the beep could be heard. "The woman in the picture."
"What?" Grinder asked, his concentration positioned elsewhere.
"I said," I grumbled as I walked closer. "The identity of the woman in the picture. Who. The. Fuck. Is. She?"
He furrowed his brow, darting his eyes from the phone to my face. "She could be the Slayer. Still trying to figure that out."
I nodded, taking several short breaths, fighting the increasing adrenaline, the biting rage.
"All I could find was a single internet photo. Not even sure it's her." Grinder seemed hesitant.
"Tell me." I took a giant step closer, fisting my other hand.
"It's not possible. The woman is dead. Nothing makes any sense at this point."
"Sasha Alessandro."
He jerked his head up in order to look into my eyes. "How the fuck did you know?"
I held out the phone, rubbing my fingers across the screen. "All this time."
"Is that Francesca's sister?"
"Yeah, her dead sister."
"Shit, boss. Do you think this entire time that Francesca was playing us? Or worse, your buddies?"
I snagged his shirt, yanking him almost entirely off the floor. "My friends are none of your business, Grinder. I suggest you remember that. However, to answer your question, there is no way any of them knew this information, especially Francesca."
He held up both hands, blinking as confirmation.
I dropped him like a rock, taking two steps backward. None of this made any damn sense. If the woman had been alive all these years, then where the fuck had she been? What was her connection to this... damning scheme?
"What do we do now?"
"First, we find out who owns the number. If my suspicions are correct, Sasha has been alive all this time."
Grinder lifted his eyebrows. "You think she did this?"
I eyed the room, the vehemence of the destruction. Something didn't add up. "We have to consider the possibility."
"Then what, boss?"