He takes another step, his eyes gleaming with cruel amusement as if savoring the power he holds over me. The fight in the background continues to rage on, but a few guards have taken notice of our own personal scuffle and have broken off, now heading this way. Several take aim at Fletcher, at me. But Connor holds up a hand to them. “Thought you were better than this,” he taunts. “You’re shaking like a leaf, and here I am thinking I was dealing with someone who could actually do some damage. Guess dear old dad didn’t teach you how to defend yourself completely.”
I grind my teeth, trying to steady the gun in my trembling hands. “I’m not finished yet.”
His laugh deepens, almost a growl now. “You’re too weak for this,Dylan. Just like your little boyfriend. Which, now that I think about it, it’s just as fucked a situation with you two being together as it is us, wouldn’t you say?”
“Besides the fact you’re her god damnblooduncle?” Fletcher chokes out as he sits up, blood soaking through his shirt.
Connor shoots a glare his way, obviously not worried about any threat. “Semantics. That’s all it?—”
I fire another shot and this time it strikes true, slicing through his thigh and dropping him to the floor with a yell. “You talk too much.”
The room falls into a tense silence, punctuated only by the echoes of the gunshot that reverberates through the warehouse. For a fleeting moment I feel a rush of victory, but it quickly evaporates when I realize the guards start to close back in at the sight of their leader on the ground. They move cautiously, rifles pointed directly at Fletcher and me, their eyes locked on us like vultures circling prey. I count four of them. Connor grits his teeth, his eyes burning with fury as he tries to rise, blood pouring from the wound. I must’ve hit an artery. Good. “You really think you can take me down, Dylan?” he growls, struggling to his feet. “You’re nothing. Just like your mother. Just like everyone else who ever tried to stop me.”
I tighten my grip on the gun, the hold awkward because of where my wrists are bound. I look around briefly, not finding Nathan, and only hoping he isn’t bleeding out on the ground somewhere along with the guards he’s killed. But suddenly, I hear the faintest sound of a scuffle behind me. It could be another guard, but they wouldn’t care about stealth right now. I look at Fletcher and he flashes his eyes up to the lights above me. He must’ve seen Nathan where I heard him. A split second later, Fletcher leans forward, grunting as he struggles with his restraint and his wound. “Now, Dylan!” I don’t hesitate. With my heart hammering in my chest, hoping I understood him right, I shoot again, this time aiming at the light fixtures above Connor’s head. The bulb shatters, plunging the surrounding area into darkness and sending broken glass shattering over our heads. It’s just enough of a distraction for me to turn and run towardFletcher, pulling him to his feet before we dive behind more crates. “My belt, there’s a knife.”
“Get them! But keep them alive,” roars Connor, and I know we don’t have much time. I set the gun down between us, reaching for the knife and opening it.
“Can you hold it while I cut my bindings?” I ask and he nods in response. Working quickly, I start cutting my ties against the blade, slipping several times and causing it to dig into my skin, but it finally breaks. I grab the knife quickly, slick with my blood, and cut through his. As soon as he is loose, he grabs the gun and shoves me behind him. Nathan is moving in our direction, having taken out another guard, leaving three plus Connor. A part of me has been wondering why they haven’t radioed in back up, but then I hear it… they’re sealing off the factory. “What are we gonna do?” I whisper loudly.
Fletcher doesn’t hesitate, but I can tell his movements are slowing from his own blood loss as he surveys the room, calculating our chances through part of the darkness. “We have two options. We can make a run for the door and hope we can fight our way out, or we take Connor and those three, and wait for the others to come to us.”
I hear Nathan moving closer, but we can’t be sure of how much time we have. I can’t shake the image of the other guards making their way toward us, guns raised. “Or what if we take out the other guards and keep Connor alive, hold him hostage until we can get out?”
He shakes his head. “It might not work. The more time we give them, the more they’ll reinforce this place, the more the others get put at risk. But…”
“We can’t let Connor get away, either,” I finish for him.
Finally, Nathan springs behind our crate, bloody and bruised. “We need to split up. You two take the left side and I’ll go around to the right, get the drop on them. We can isolate Connor and take down the other three before they realize what’s happening. None of us are in any position to take on any more.”
Who was I to argue with that? I feel the weight of the plan settling on my shoulders, the pressure of our options growing. The feeling of hope creeping in that we might actually make it out of this alive. It makes sense. We can’t let Connor or the remaining guards escape, but we won’t be able to take the rest on either.
Fletcher’s eyes are scanning the room once more, his breaths becoming ragged, but his focus never wavers. “We take them out quick and we make it to the doors by the loading dock entrance.”
Nathan looks at me one last time. “On three.” He holds up his fingers, counting down. “One… two…” The moment the countdown reaches three, all hell breaks loose.
Nathan moves first, slipping into the shadows we’ve created and sneaks up behind a guard, his knife slipping across his throat as though he’s done it dozens of times. At the same time, Fletcher and I rush left using the crates for cover as we move swiftly to position ourselves closer to Connor. He’s still bleeding out on the floor, unable to rise, which leaves us at the perfect advantage as Fletcher shoots the other two guards and then aims the gun at Connor’s head. “As badly as I want to be the one to end you, I’m saving that honor for her. Dylan, grab a belt from one of the guards and tourniquet his leg.”
Connor’s glare is venomous, but he doesn’t move, his hand hovering near his side where the blood continues to flow. He’s weakening quickly so I shake my head. “Please, just end it. I want this nightmare to be over with.” I was so tired and I just wanted to go home. I didn’t care who killed him, so long as he was dead.
“You don’t have to tell me twice.” He shoves the barrel of the gun into Connor’s mouth and blood and brain matter splatter against the floor as he drops dead. It should bother me more than it does, seeing so much gore, so much death. Seeing Fletcher so comfortable with taking a life. But I’m fairly positive they destroyed any humanity I had left in me. I’d like to believe they didn’t break me, but I’m afraid that in some ways they did.But you’re alive. You’re breathing.Although a part of me wishes that I wasn’t.
Despite Fletcher’s choppy movements,he managed to carry me all the way back to the car. When I had protested, he scooped me up without room for argument. I had initially stiffened at his touch, something I knew I hadn’t hidden well by the subtle growl that escaped his throat, but eventually managed to relax enough to lean my head against his shoulder. I told him he had to let me bandage where he was stabbed in return, and for once he listened and let me do it after Nathan stitched him up. Nathan had a few injuries of his own too, a few grazes from bullets and knives, but nothing nearly as deep. “Where did you learn to fight like that?” I ask him.
He shrugs. “You pick a few things up when dealing with people like this, it helps that I take classes too—kickboxing, Muay Thai, Jiu-Jitsu.”
Fletcher raises an eyebrow. “Are you leaving something out?”
“Oh, yeah. And this jackass.” He chuckles as he finishes cleaning himself up.
Although the mood is lighthearted right now, my heart is anything but. I don’t know how we managed to escape as outnumbered as we were, but we did. However, it probably had to do with the backup Nathan had managed to call in while we were stalling. They wouldn’t tell me who, which reminded me that Fletcher had a lot he needed to talk to me about, but I don’t know if I could absorb much more.
“Do you think we made the right choice?” I ask quietly.
Fletcher looks at me from where he sits on the hood. “What do you mean, little viper?”
I kick at the rocks below me, the sharp points cutting into my bare feet. “I feel like maybe we made a mistake in killing Connor. I mean, what if he had connections to other trafficking warehouses and factories? What if this wasn’t enough?”Because it wasn’t.BecauseI know that there are other women, men, and children suffering the same as I was. It likely wouldn’t be enough until every trafficking organization across the country was destroyed, and I knew that was impossible. As impossible as having to sit with that knowledge.
“Do you regret killing him?” Nathan asks.
