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“No eyes on my end, Boss. They’re fuckin’ ghosts,” he said quickly. “They somehow missed every surveillance camera in the city to get to them. Stuck to alleys, mostly, and blended into normal crowds when not attacking.”
“So we equip the shop with tech. Get your guys on it,” Kyrell said, handing a glass over and filling it before drinking it down like water.
“Done,” he promised, sliding over to his computer and tapping away for several minutes. When he moved back, it was with a folder. He swallowed hard and slid it our way. “The results from the hand, including word from the Therons and the gas station he was last spotted at all confirm what we were expecting.” His voice shook at the end, and pain flashed in his eyes. My heart broke for the guy. Jason and Seth were... well, had been his friends. The three of them had been almost like brothers. When we’d first determined that they were the likeliest suspects for the Lachs’ hostage, that had been a punch to the gut. Now that we had one confirmed dead and the other missing, that punch was nearly sickening.
“I’m sorry about your friend,” Keir said solemnly. Joe bit his lip and blinked hard before nodding. “Any news on Seth?”
“None,” he sighed, turning and grabbing another, much thinner folder. “He was last seen leaving a cafe across tow
n, then nothing. There was a blind spot on the cameras, even the ones we hacked.”
“We’ll find him,” Ky promised, the dead or alive going unsaid.
“Thank you,” he mumbled, going silent as Keir slid pictures our way. There was a close-up of the hand and notes written on the back. Jason’s mother had confirmed it as his, thanks to a scar he’d gotten as a kid. The fact that a hand was all we had for her to bury filled me with rage. I hated feeling useless, and Joe’s lack of results, though not from lack of trying, were giving me no idea of where to go next. Fuck, this is getting ridiculous.
“Any word on Anastasia and her detail?” I asked, something we’d set up when the Lachs started acting up again.
“She’s safe and accounted for,” he confirmed, pulling up a report for us to see.
“Good. Keep tracking the Lachs’ movement in the city; they’re escalating for a reason, and I want to know what that reason is. Something new is motivating them,” I explained. There was just something that wasn’t quite adding up all of the way.
“We have to take this fight to the Lachs before this gets worse. I want estate coordinates and all the names and pictures you can get, a full dossier,” Keir ordered as he stood, taking the bottle with him when he turned to leave.
“Thanks, Joe,” I offered, sliding the pictures back to him before following my brothers out. For the first time since we’d taken over the Family, I felt defeated.
I’ll make the Lachs pay for what they’ve taken from us, but first, I have to make sure Sana hasn’t hurt herself in that room.
“You son of a fucking bitch, let me out of this room before I castrate you and feed it to your brothers!” I screamed, the sound deafening in the otherwise silent room. On the other side, Kill mouthed some bullshit about being sorry before walking away. The second his back was to me, I lost it, going to their wall of perfectly clean and organized instruments and flinging them on the floor one by one. “Fuck you. Fuck these. Fuck your stupid fucking dominance!”
When the wall was clear, my arms shook from the effort, having quickly lost steam. I flopped into the chair, ruthlessly kicking aside their precious toys on the way. It gave me a small bit of twisted satisfaction to see their beloved torture room in complete disarray. I’ll teach them real quick not to fuck with me.
The more I glanced around the room and saw how trapped I was, the more detached my emotions became. My brain had traveled to the past, hurling me right back into that place Eros had loved to see me in. The numb indifference let me think clearly, creating a weird form of dissociation that was probably more harmful than anything.
“Good luck, Princess,” Eros said, closing the door behind him. The warehouse he’d shoved me in was dark and filled with shadows. At this point, none of this was new to me, and I’d learned to always tuck weapons away. Reaching into my holster, I pulled out my Sig and stepped carefully through the warehouse, unwilling to let my steps give me away. The gun was still a bit clumsy in my small hands, but I knew I’d get used to it quickly, and at least I could shoot it with precision.
A small noise on the other side of the warehouse had my feet speeding up. A narrow storage room was the first thing I came across, and I slipped inside, pausing briefly to listen before continuing to find a place to wait.
My size worked to my advantage. I was thin and small for a preteen, so I wedged myself underneath a large cabinet, sliding out of view and trying to forget that bugs existed. I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of fucked up shit Eros had gotten me into this time. Why couldn’t I just enjoy a fucking night in without him turning it into a survival game?
The buzz of a radio hit the room before the footfalls. Judging by the sound, an adult male. He walked carefully through the room before hitting his walkie-talkie and whispering into it.
“Target isn’t in here either. We sure this is a hostage transfer?” There was white noise for a second before it cut off, another voice coming through.
“Affirmative, it’s a girl, preteen, brunette, small, quiet. That was the description, and he’s never not come through on a sale like this. She’ll go for top dollar.” Like hell I will.
“Fox… Lake… you guys got anything?” he asked, starting to walk away. But I wasn’t giving him the chance. I slid out, aimed for a kill shot, and squeezed the trigger. Not bothering to see if I made it, I returned to my hiding spot and waited.
“Jones?!” The yells rang out as another man came in, gasping at the sight of his friend bleeding out. The small light that spilled through the window was enough to make out the movement. As soon as I had another good shot, I took it, the deafening sound leaving my ears ringing, but I didn’t even flinch.
“Are you guys shooting the merchandise?!” the voice screamed through the comms, but dead men don’t use walkies, so it fell only on my ears.
Two down, two to go if the man directing them is here too.
This time, the wait felt like it went on forever, long enough that my legs were going numb and I was ready for a hot shower.
“Jones? Lake?” The comm finally went off again, this time accompanied by two sets of shoes pounding on the concrete floors. “What the fuck?” The comment was in surround sound, coming through the comm and from the man himself. When both of their backs were turned, I took my third shot, but I wasn’t quick enough to get out of view. The man rushed forward and snatched me out by my arm, my gun flying across the floor. “You little bitch! You fucking killed them!”
“And you were going to kill me,” I fired back before he used his other hand to slap me across the mouth. My eyes narrowed as blood pooled with my saliva. Not bothering to let this drag on, I pulled the easiest knife I could grab, the one in my other boot, and shoved the blade in his throat. Blood poured out of the wound, covering my hand and arm as he let go of me before dropping to the floor with his brethren.
