AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I know they’d never understand since both of them are fucking idiots, but River is my whole world now. I’d never want to throw her away for some girl I met at a bar or a beach. I could never explain it to either of them, so I don’t bother. They can continue to be lonely and loveless if they want. That’s not who I am anymore.
The drive feels like it takes five hours when it’s really no more than two and a half. With every mile, I feel more driven, ready to finally take this motherfucker out for good.
Nobody speaks for the entire rest of the drive, which I find to be a good thing. It gives everyone the space to think about the task at hand and plan for anything that could come back to bite us.
When we pull up to the driveway of the estate Marat has been staying in, the entire fleet of vehicles takes separate directions, seeking out trails and clearings where they can sneak through the property without being as easily noticed.
I’m starting to finally feel it – that rage that comes over me when I’m ready to kill.
Most of the people I’ve personally killed were in the wrong place at the wrong time. When there’s a hit out on someone, I usually send Erik or Gregory to do it. Killing someone with intent is something I try to avoid, but Marat has left me no choice but to end his life. I’ll do it myself if I have to. In fact, I think I’d enjoy that.
We approach the vacation house slowly, observing a group of girls in bikinis as they smoke cigarettes outside. One of them sees us, immediately alerting the other girls, who quickly head back into the house. They know something is up.
I climb up through the sunroof with a megaphone, pointing it at the house. We’re going to do this tactfully if we can.
“We’ve come for Marat Srokov. If he is given to us without issue, we will spare the lives of everybody present at this location. If you attempt to escape, you will be shot on sight. You have ten minutes to present him to us before we take action,” I announce.
We listen carefully, and I can hear the girls inside the house shrieking at Marat for tricking them into coming here. They must think we’re cops, which would mean they’re likely prostitutes.
After waiting for ten minutes, I spot one of Marat’s men sprinting through the trees at the back of the house. Marat isn’t stupid enough to turn like that, but this guy won’t realize his mistake until it’s too late.
I aim, carefully maintaining my position as he runs. He’s entirely convinced he’s reached safety, and right when he gets to the border of the property, I fire three times at him, striking him in the chest and stomach.
I’m not close enough to see his condition, but I’m sure he’s dead.
He should have just listened.
With the men in the other vehicles watching diligently, I tuck myself back down into the SUV.
“Okay, what are we supposed to do if he doesn’t come out?” Erik asks, already growing bored of the hunt.
“We’re going to starve him out. It’s unlikely that he came here expecting to get caught by anyone. He probably believed that leaving the US was the only thing he had to do to be free,” I explain. “He doesn’t have enough food to keep himself and everyone else alive for longer than a week.”
“We’re going to wait here for him to break? Isn’t this guy supposed to be one of your mortal enemies or some shit? If it was that easy, you should have smoked him by now,” Gregory replies, his voice sounding more argumentative as the minutes go by.
The heat is getting to everyone.
“Mexico and the United States of America aren’t the same place, fuckwad. If we did something like this back home, every cop on the planet would be on us like flies to a pile of shit. Out here, Marat is a sitting duck.”
Gregory seems to get it, falling silent again.
I pop back up through the sunroof, wiping the sweat from my upper lip as I wait for Marat to be kicked out of the house. His colleagues can’t bethatloyal, and nobody is coming to save him; it’s impossible to get a cell signal out here.
I’ll wait as long as I need to before I can blow his fucking rodent-looking head clean off his shoulders.
19
RIVER
Today is the day that I’m supposed to check my progress with the doctor again, and I can’t wait to show him how many steps I can walk.
I wasn’t even supposed to be speaking full sentences at this point in my recovery, but here I am, able to do almost anything that a person without a traumatic brain injury can do. I would give anything for Adas to be here, seeing me take my first steps again after so long, but he can’t be here for everything. I know that in my heart, but it’s hard to accept at times like these.
Today, I’m being escorted to the doctor’s office to see a new doctor who is to take over my care during my recovery. She isn’t able to make house calls like the old man who had been in her place, but I’m more than a little bit excited to be out of the house again.
There’s nobody here to accompany me to the doctor’s office, which feels unsafe and nerve-racking for me. I know that part of walking again means I’ll have to be independent, but my nerves take over, and I begin to breathe rapidly right before I wheel myself up the ramp into the medical van.
“Are you alright? We’re not going very far. It should only be about twenty minutes,” the driver says in a helpful, sympathetic tone.
