Atlas
The laptop screen glowed in the dim hotel room. It's sickening images playing like a highlight of hell. My Kitten was on the other side of that lens, suffering and dealing with unimaginable horror. She and Becca are caring for a woman who was beaten to a fucking pulp by Juan. Hector's voice roaring through the outside camera a little earlier really put me in a fucking bad mood. Ordering my girl to sleep in his bed tonight. How dare he even think he can touch her! I feel so helpless holed up here at this shitty hotel when I can see what's happening in that house of horrors.
All our eyes were on the compound. We were heading out pretty soon to take out the two men on Hector'sinvite list. It was better to get these things done late at night. Most people were getting ready for bed now. It was almost 10 p.m. I glanced back at the screen, watching the girls practically put that poor soul back together. I heard Kit call her Layla, another one of Hector's victims. My hands were sweaty, and I didn't even realize my whole body was tense until my neck started throbbing. All three girls were still naked. Becca and Kitlyn removed their towels before Julio entered the room.
As bad as things were over there, she was still safest in his apartment. Tonight we would kill and in two days, we would be at the party. Two days seemed like three months to me. It couldn't get here quick enough. I kept my eyes glued to the computer, watching and waiting for Hector to enter.
"Maybe you should turn that off." Jacob's voice came from behind me, stern but gentle.
My jaw was tight from watching the feed incessantly after our plans were made. The more I witnessed, the worse I felt.
"Atlas," Jacob warned, stepping closer.
"If you keep watching this shit, you're gonna lose your fucking mind. You know that."
"I can't help myself. I need to know what is happening to her." My voice was low and cold, but not meant for argument because he was right.
"You need to keep yourself sharp, Atlas. We've got two days before the party. If you go in blind with this kind of anger eating at you, you'll not only get yourself killed, but Kitlyn and the rest of us too."
"I closed the laptop with more force than necessary. The table actually shook. My chest heaved as I pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to calm the storm boiling within me. Jacob leaned on the wall, his arms crossed, watching me with those calculating eyes of his. He'd been my partner long enough to know when I was about to snap.
"You're an assassin, not a fool. I know the last couple of hours have been hard watching that shit, but we are leaving here shortly. I need you to keep it together so we can carry out this mission and get the girls and our team back home safely."
I nodded, looking at him. "You're right. Zach has his eyes on them, and he is synced with our cell phone speakers if something goes wrong before Wednesday night. It's better that I didn't keep watching this shit." I breathed in deeply, clenching my jaw. "He's going to rape her tonight, and there isn't a fucking thing I can do about it without getting us all killed, Jacob." I cracked my knuckles, feeling sick to my stomach.
"I feel so goddamn helpless right now. Not only have she and Becca been physically abused, but mentally as well. I just hope she's strong enough to handle whatever he has planned for her when he returns."
Jacob didn't flinch. He just let me vent, his silence grounding me more than any lecture ever could. He patted me on the back. "She is a strong woman, Atlas. She will be alright."
He smirked. "She survived you, didn't she?"
The corner of my mouth lifted in a slight smile. I said nothing, just held my breath for a minute. Finally, I exhaled.
"Let's get this show on the road. My girl is waiting."
Mexico City dressed itself in neon and noise, but underneath the surface, rot festered. Men like Hector's guests thrived here. They were parasites feeding on the broken, buying women as if they were cattle. Tonight, two of them would meet the devil and burn in hell.
House 1- Arturo Salazar
Arturo's villa sat in the old-money district. Iron gates, tall hedges and stone walls screamed power. We slipped inside effortlessly. Jacob cut the backyard cameras; I picked the locks on the kitchen door. Within minutes, we were standing in his den. He looked trashed, spread out on the leather couch, a cigar smoldering in one hand, a shot of whiskey in the other. The surrounding walls were lined with photos—not of family, but of trophies. Girls. Barely clothed. Bound. Bruised. Sad. My stomach turned. We knew this was going to be a bloody mess, so we put the aprons over our shirts.
Before the asshole could lift his head, I jammed the barrel of my pistol into his mouth. His whiskey glass shattered on the floor. We removed him from the couch, and Jacob tied him to a chair with brutal efficiency. I pulled his hair, yanking his head back.
"Arturo Salazar," I said evenly, my voice colder than the steel in my hand. "You like buying women. Torturing them. Making their lives a living hell."
He tried to speak, gagging on the metal pressed against his teeth.
"Does Hector bring in more guards when he throws his fucking parties?"
Arturo's lips trembled.
"I-I know nothing about his security."
"You're full of shit. Does anyone else live in this house with you?"
His body trembled with fear as he shook his head.
"I live alone, and I told you, I know nothing."
