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He did just that, his thumbs on the go, moving like lightning.
“I don’t like this, Isaac.” I shook my head, loathing how this whole fucking thing had me so torn with guilt.
She was never going to forgive us.
“He’s doing this forher, Phantom,” he reminded me, as did Father over a hundred fucking times during ourtalkearlier.
“And he’s going to get himself killed. Possibly Rhett, too. Youdorealize that, right?”
“Why are you being such a negative fucking Nancy?”
“Because,” I said thickly. “He’s not just our father, Isaac, he’s Samara’s too.”
He cursed deeply under his breath and scraped a hand down his face. “Look, man… I’m not feeling all sunshine and rainbows about it either, but there’s nothing we can do. He’s made up his mind.”
“And I’m telling you it’s the wrong move.”
He irritably sighed and threw up his hands. “Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. But that’s what happens when you’re in a war. We have our orders. It disturbs even me to say this, but maybe it would be best if we actually listened for once. You can’t tell her, Phantom, so whatever it is you got going on up there in that big ass head of yours, get a fucking grip on it. We have to wait and see how this plays out, and then go from there. Whatever happens after that, happens. If we go down, then we’re all going down together.”
“If this falls downhill, she’ll never forgive us.”
“She will,” Isaac said confidently, his lips pressed to a thin line. “Eventually.”
A faint ding chimed through the air.
“Rhett said he’ll be at the house in five minutes. He said he’ll let us know when they’re there and to wish them good luck.”
My stomach dropped.
Good luck, Rhett.
Good fucking luck.
Rhett
32
It was a little after midnight when I pulled up at my childhood home and parked, cutting the engine. This shit was insane, fucking suicide even, but Father said he needed me. I was the best getaway driver we had.
I sighed and got out of the car, dreading whatever the hell I was about to walk into.
Father shouted that he was in the basement when I walked in and called out to him. I made my way there just to find myself blinking in disbelief at Father’s outstanding determination.
He was standing behind the bar, loading bullets into fresh clips. Spread along the twelve-foot counterspace was an assortment of weapons: pistols, a few AR’s and semi-auto machine guns, grenades, throwing knives, and shotguns.
Holy. Fuck.
“You’re late,” he angrily proclaimed as he continued loading the extra clips.
“There was a hold up,” I replied, getting my wits together and approaching the bar, giving the weapons another thoroughonceover. My dropped stomach at the reality of it all laid out in front of me. “I’m here now, so what’s the plan?”
“Complete the mission,” he said simply. “As soon as the package is in your hands, you get the fuck out of there. You leave me behind if you have to and get where you need to be.”
“What?” I glared at him like he was out of his fucking mind. “You’re not serious.”
“As a fucking heart attack.”
“But Dad…”
