They Stole My Wife. I Took Their Empire.

Colombia. The heart of the Carmel cartel's territory.

Leo Ross moved like a ghost, slipping in without a sound.

Three heavily armed mercenaries were patrolling the camp. Leo seized his moment. His left wrist twisted, and the razor-sharp military knife sliced through the first mercenary's throat in one clean motion.

Blood sprayed out. The man dropped without making a sound.

Then, using the darkness as cover, Leo raised his suppressed M4A1 carbine and fired twice.

Two clean shots.

The other two mercenaries went down before they could even scream.

Leo stepped over the bodies and kicked open the iron door at the end of the hall.

Inside the cramped warehouse, a woman in tattered clothes was huddled on the floor.

When Leo saw her eyes — bright blue, wide with terror — something slammed into his chest like a fist.

Six years ago in Brooklyn, Leo had been badly wounded during a mission. A woman with those same blue eyes had saved his life. Her name was Isabella Taylor.

On that freezing, rain-soaked night, she had used the warmth of her own body to keep him alive.

She had pulled a cold-blooded killer back from the edge. And Leo had sworn to protect her with his life.

They didn't waste time. Soon, they had a daughter — Emily Ross. Then the blow came. Emily was born with a congenital heart defect. The treatment costs were enormous.

To keep Emily alive, Leo answered the call and joined the U.S. Army's Delta Force.

That was four years ago.

"Don't be scared. You're safe now." Leo pushed the thoughts aside and kept his voice as gentle as he could.

Then his phone buzzed.

A text message:

"Leo, this is David Hughes. I've got some bad news for you. Your fiancée, Isabella, is going to be my wife tonight."

The message was from David — known as "The Butcher" — the boss of the Long Island crime outfit, the Petro Crime Family.

Below the text was a photo.

A little girl, about four years old, with golden curls, locked inside an iron cage. Her eyes were wide with fear. She was clutching a teddy bear with both hands.

His daughter. Emily.

A second message followed immediately:

"Your little girl is adorable. Too bad you'll never see her again after tonight."

"Damn it!"

Leo let out a roar.

He had to get back to Long Island. Now.

"Sergeant Major! I'm requesting to leave my post!" Leo called Sergeant Major Laurence. "Something's come up. I have to deal with it right now."

Laurence had seen this coming. His job, after all, was to let Leo go.

But to keep his own role hidden, he put on a show of pushing back. "Leo, think about what you're doing. What could possibly matter more than finishing the mission?"

"Isabella and my daughter have been taken." Leo's eyes were burning red. "I'm here pulling someone else out — who's going to pull them out?"

"If you've already made up your mind, fine. Head to the airpad. There's a Black Hawk waiting."

"Thank you, Sergeant Major."

Leo hung up and ran for the airpad, not wasting a single second.

On the other end of the line, Laurence smiled.

"Leo, don't blame me. I had no choice."

What Leo had just done would be classified as desertion by the military. And desertion meant a warrant. A manhunt.

That was step one of the plan.

New York. Long Island. The Sky Hotel.

The night was heavy. Rain hammered down outside.

This was Petro Crime Family territory, and the entire hotel had been locked down tight — sealed like a cage.

Two men in black dragged Isabella into the banquet hall. Her blue eyes were hollow with fear and despair.

"Priest, get on with it." David snapped, impatient.

The man was overweight, stuffed into a tuxedo like a wild boar forced into a suit.

"You monster! David, you're going to hell for this!" Thinking of Emily locked away somewhere, Isabella was breaking apart. She struggled, but the men behind her shoved her back down hard.

"Hell?" David's grin was ugly. "I'm not afraid of hell. Be a good girl and marry me, and maybe I'll be generous enough to let your daughter go. Otherwise, you'll never see her again."

"No! Let Emily go — she's only four years old! Please, don't hurt my child." Isabella was falling apart.

"Then marry me. Say it out loud. Say you will."

The priest's hands trembled as he lifted the Bible. Under David's glare, he had no choice but to begin reading the vows. "David, do you take Isabella to be your wife, in good times and in bad..."

"I do! Of course I do!" David cut him off and grabbed Isabella roughly.

"Isabella, do you..."

"I don't! I won't!" Isabella shook her head wildly and tore her hand free. "Leo will kill you! He will kill you!"

"Leo?" David burst out laughing. He swung his hand and slapped her hard across the face, knocking her to the ground.

"If he shows up, I'll kill him myself."

He turned to face the guests. "On behalf of Isabella, I—"

"She said no."

A voice cut through the hall like a thunderclap, loud and clear, reaching every corner of the room.

The doors exploded inward.

Every eye snapped to the figure standing in the doorway.

Leo stood there with his M4A1 still smoking, his black combat gear soaked with rain and streaked with blood.

"Leo!"

Isabella saw him and broke down completely, sobbing.

David blinked — then a gleam of excitement crossed his face. "You actually came. I knew you would. I've been waiting for you."

He pulled out a handgun, pointing it at Leo, then at Isabella pinned on the floor. "Leo, surrender now and I'll let Isabella and your daughter go. Otherwise, they both die."

"Leo, forget about me — run! Go find our daughter, she's in—" Isabella's voice cut off.

"Shut up."

David slapped her again. Both sides of her face were swollen now.

"I'm going to kill you." Leo's voice was ice.

The rage was real, but his mind stayed sharp. He lined up his shot and blasted out the hall's electrical panel. Every light went dead at once. The gunshot sent guests screaming and scrambling in every direction. The room collapsed into chaos.

David spun around to grab Isabella.

Another shot came before he could reach her.

"My hand!"

A rifle round punched straight through David's wrist.

In total darkness, Leo — Delta Force's finest — moved like death itself.

Fast. Precise. Closing the distance.

Someone switched on a flashlight. David spotted Leo and screamed: "Kill him! Kill Leo! A million dollars to whoever takes him down!"