Page 65 of Then We Shatter

We close in as one to corner the remaining targets. Two more of Ignacio’s soldiers are killed.

Two left.

The bad news is none of the fatalities so far have been identified as primary targets. Either my numbers aren’t stacking up or Ignacio and his two sons aren’t here together.

Impatient to find out who’s getting crossed off our list, our formation tightens around a wall of crates stacked two high.

“Are you really going to make us come and drag you out?” I ask.

A man curses in Spanish. The voice is too young to be Ignacio’s. “The only way I’ll be coming out, McConkey, is in a coffin. You might want to measure one up for yourself.”

I check Lorcan’s reaction. If anyone can recognize a Valera by voice, it’s him. His expression is stoic. “Tomas.”

The younger son belongs to me. Or Malachy. “Looks like I’ll be fighting you for the honors on this one, Mal.” I can see him on the opposite end of the wall of crates. “Rock, paper, scissors?”

Malachy gestures to my right. “We’re standing down. Our man’s got this.”

I don’t argue when Lorcan slides past me. His M4 rests casually in his arms as he circles around the barrier separating us from Tomas. We’re all wearing Kevlar, but that doesn’t make us immortal. I take a breath to bark a warning, but there’s nothing I could say that Lorcan doesn’t know already.

In all the missions since our mother died, I’ve reminded Lorcan how strong and capable he is, but it was always qualified with a ‘proceed only if you’re sure you can do it,’ or a ‘no one will judge you if you need to step away.’ Malachy’s style isn’t as cautious. He’s believed in our brother, and now, Lorcan believes in himself. He just better not fucking die.

I raise my rifle and shadow Lorcan. His shoulder skims a crate and he pauses. One more step and he’ll break cover. Malachy mirrors my position so we’re ready to attack from both sides of the wall. We don’t know if Tomas is alone, or what weapons he has.

Lorcan raises his assault rifle. “Ready?”

When I nod, Lorcan spins fast, the barrel of his rifle following his line of sight. I’m behind him as we face Tomas Valera. He’s alone, one less adversary than I’d estimated and two less Valeras than I’d hoped for.

Tomas has his hands resting at his sides and a smug grin on his ugly face. He’s making it too easy.

“Want to talk?” I ask, hoping he doesn’t, hoping we can take some pleasure in torturing information out of him. I need the distraction. Katarina’s party is in a few days, her departure the day after that. If I think about her too much, I might do something stupid.

Tomas’s gaze flicks briefly to Lorcan then to me. “I’m not much of a talker. Much like your idiot brother.”

Lorcan lowers his aim and fires off a couple of rounds into Tomas’s calves. The Valera scum drops to his knees with a cry, his teeth tightly gritted and his hands clenched. Lorcan’s aim returns to his head.

“Tell us where your father is,” I demand.

Tomas manages a trembling smile. “With any luck, digging up your mother’s body so we can piss all over her again.”

Lorcan’s next bullet hits Tomas between the eyes and when his body crumples, Malachy and I unload our magazines into the son of a bitch. Tomas is face down, his body a patchwork of bullet holes and I’m still not done. I’m reaching for a fresh clip when Lorcan snags my shoulder and yanks me away.

“Grenade!” he yells.

And then I see it. A grenade has fallen from Tomas’s dead hand, its absent clip near his other. There’s a stampede of boots and a clatter of heavy weaponry being discarded as we bolt for the nearest exits. I glance over my shoulder to check Malachy is on the move. He’s running in the opposite direction and our gazes snag briefly as he checks on me and Lorcan too.

I manage a few more steps with Lorcan ahead of me when a wall of heat hits my back accompanied by a thunderous boom. I stumble, but I keep going. Tomas knew he was trapped and would have chosen to make his last stand close to the highest concentration of explosives so he’d take us out with him.

Sure enough, a second blast hits when we’re feet away from the gaping hole we’d left in the side of the warehouse. The blast lifts me off my feet and busts my eardrums. I don’t hear my yell, but I feel the crash as I land shoulder first on the shutter we’d blown off earlier.

Debris lands around me, and a few of our men too. Lorcan rises unsteadily to his feet and reaches out a hand to pull me up. We wouldn’t have made it out if he hadn’t spotted the grenade, remaining in control while Malachy and I lost our shit firing at a dead body.

“I’m proud of you,” I say.

I can’t hear my own words and neither can Lorcan, but he gets the message and smiles. He squeezes my arm in response, but hell no, that’s not good enough. I wrap arms of steal around my brother and hug him tightly. He hugs me back, if only briefly, before we help the men around us. Some have shrapnel wounds, but nothing life-threatening.

I gesture to get everyone moving away from the warehouse. I’m not so deaf that I can’t hear the muted thud of minor explosions in what’s left of the building, and there’s no telling what’s to come.

I’ve lost my earpiece, so even if I could hear, there’s no way of checking in with Malachy. Keeping a safe distance from the warehouse, I start circling the building, Lorcan at my side. We sweep the ground with our flashlights as we race to find our brother. I need to know he got out, and I need to know now.