I'd been living off of adrenaline from the moment we'd walked through the doors of the restaurant, a slow build that crescendoed the moment I felt all the guns in the room pointed at me. And just in case I couldn't grasp the severity of the situation, there had been one pressed directly against my spine for good measure. Cole had taken out four men in less than ten seconds and had been ready to take out Lars if he didn't tell us where Brittany was. When Lars stopped pretending he had any sort of control over the situation and gave us an address, his role wasn't done—Cole had forced the man to his feet and back out to the car with us. He was insurance; increasing the odds of finding Brittany instead of Lars having her moved, or worse, executed. I twitched with sensory overload, steering us toward one of the infamous 'Eichmann chateaus'. Properties with the most prestigious addresses where atrocities occurred behind closed doors. My stomach rolled with disgust when I thought about how much corruption flowed from those in power down to the likes of Lars Eichmann.
