I’m seething.
Not even the wind from the helicopter ride to this city could cool the inferno inside me. It’s been burning from the moment I watched that goddamn video. The same video that made myknuckles bleed when I punched the wall. The same one that’s been playing behind my eyes for a week now.
“The code to the door is 2243,” Maksim says in my ear. “I’ve got visual. You’re good.”
He’s watching everything I see through the visor in my helmet. His voice is distant background noise, like static in the storm. My focus is razor-sharp as I reach the door. I enter the code—a soft beep. The lock clicks open.
I push the door and step inside.
Then I lock it behind me.
I don’t care if they heard that. I hope they did. I want them to know someone’s here. But they won’t be leaving. That much is certain.
Inside, the apartment is dim. The low thump of music vibrates from somewhere down the hall. A mix of weed, sweat, and energy drink coats the air like a cloud of filth. I breathe it in through the helmet and still feel nauseated.
I move down the corridor, slow and silent. And then I hear it—
Groaning.
Moaning.
Rhythmic. Unmistakable.
I blink.
As I reach the edge of the living room, my lips curl into something between disbelief and disgust.
There they are.
Naked.
Fucking.
Josh on top. Caleb underneath him. Neither of them is aware I’m here, standing just behind them in the shadows.
“Well, well,” Maksim mutters with a low scoff. “Guess we caught them mid-celebration?”
I tilt my head. My jaw tightens.
The irony is so thick I could choke on it. These are the bastards who hurled slurs at Lucas. Called him names. Made him feel inhuman. Mocked him for being gay.
And now they’re here, shamelessly fucking each other in the dark like the world owes them privacy.
It almost makes me laugh.
But there’s no humor in me right now.
I step forward quietly.
My fingers wrap around the cold metal of my gun. I pull it out slowly, and then I press the muzzle gently against Josh’s head.
They both freeze. Caleb chokes on a gasp. Josh tenses, rigid like a deer caught in headlights. My smirk is hidden beneath my helmet, but I let it spread anyway.
“Your delivery’s here,” I murmur coldly.
Wh…who are you?” Josh stammers, his voice barely more than a breath. He doesn’t dare move, doesn’t even blink, like the wrong twitch might get him shot.
“Get up,” I say flatly, ignoring the question entirely. “Hands behind your head.”
