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“Oh, I should’ve given him an explosive backpack as well.” I look around, spotting the tall doctor coming our way.
“No, thank you,” Mathias says. He’s carrying a massive bag with him, and there’s already another one on his shoulder. “I would rather not combust accidentally.”
“It’s not how it works,” I mumble.
He pats my shoulder with a pitying smile. “Not fighting on the front lines is still important. We’ll get to Tanya in time, don’t worry.”
“I’m not,” I reply, but I don’t think anyone buys it. I’m not sure I do.
Either way, it doesn’t matter. It’s go time.
Watching the cool efficiency with which Sophie’s gang members take out people is amazing. Stun guns, head locks, and precise blows—I can tell they’ve done this before.
Damien is impressive—his massive frame moves quietly as we progress onward, but it’s like his body is made of steel the moment he has to fight someone. He is fully aware of where Sophie is at all times, both protecting her and letting her pick the lock on every door that won’t allow us entry. They work like a well-oiled, efficient machine that runs on love and respect.
Will Tanya and I ever get a chance to be like this? I know every couple is different, but with the amount of misunderstandings we have, at the moment it feels like an impossible challenge. And as if that wasn’t enough, we’re also part of different gangs. Who knows how the Empress will feel about my affections. So far she’s supported working together with Sophie’s gang as we have a mutual enemy in Comet International and the cult, but beyond that? I have no idea what happens after all of this is over.
Team 1 clears the first outbuilding in less than fifteen minutes. I step into my working headspace and place explosives at the base of some rooms as I meticulously calculate how much and where they’re needed, making sure they’re linked up to my iPad, ready for detonation.
There are another two buildings on this side, but I abandon Sophie and Damien and go to Team 2 instead, led by a burly woman and a guy who looks like a teenager. They’re a strange pair but get the job done. As I observe them from a distance, I see the lanky young guy hit everyone two or three times more than necessary. He grins every time someone lands a hit on him. The woman doesn’t seem to thrive on violence in the same way. She’s like a female Damien—precise and concentrated.
I zigzag across the property, the plan going smoothly. I’m humming a song as I finish up linking the explosives in the last building Team 2 cleared.
There are now a few injured men who congregate around Mathias. He triages them quickly, sending some to support Sophie and Damien and ordering others to stay behind.
The last outbuilding is small—it shouldn’t be a problem and would require three times less explosives to knock down. We’re so close to getting to Tanya. My fingers itch to abandon my diligence and just run forward until I crash into her and hold her in my arms.
Most of Ivo’s team has gone ahead with Sophie’s people. As we used up the explosives, they were eager to join the actual fights. Our progression through the compound was underwhelming, but then again, raids rarely happen like in the movies. The explosions come after, when everyone is safely away.
“Down!” Ivo shouts, tackling me to the ground as bullets start flying at a crazy pace.
Okay, the universe clearly took offense to my last statement.
Ivo carries the only remaining case of explosives, so I scan our surroundings and quickly drag him to a safe space behind a tree. He grunts as we both sit up, our front bodies covered in dust.
“What the fuck was that?” I ask.
“Whoever is in that building has a minigun,” he replies through gritted teeth.
“Holy shit! You’ve been shot.” I press my hands to the side of his thigh.
He hisses in pain.
“We’re lucky we didn’t all explode. I bet this case isn’t minigun-proof.” He takes out a bottle of water from one of the pockets on his belt and swats my hand away. “Let’s see what’s happening here.”
“How are you so calm?” I ask, my eyes scanning the property for Mathias.
My gaze lands on the bodies in front of the small outbuilding and the rotating barrel of the weapon that was used against them. It’s peeking under an open window protected by bars, concealing whoever is operating it.
The air is thick with tension. The silence of a showdown blankets the whole compound. Like in a game of Red Light, Green Light, no one moves.
Why are we giving the shooter time to reload? Does a minigun even need reloading?
Then a single shot breaks the charged silence. The window breaks and the minigun comes alive, shooting confidently at first, then giving way to jerky shots a few seconds apart, then nothing. As if someone used their final strength to fire it.
“It’s safe. I got them,” a cheery male voice says from one side. The tall, lanky teenager with the violence high is holding a pointed gun. His face twists into a wicked grin, and for a moment, I’m thankful this guy is our ally. He seems unhinged.
Sophie rushes to the door, quickly picking the lock and letting Damien inside. A minute later, there’s a female scream and a young woman makes a dash for freedom from a side door.
