Though the other part of me sees just how much she’s pleading with me from her soul.
This is her revenge too; she’s here and alive to carry out the vengeance. A lot of the women that have fallen to them aren’t.
My mum is an example; her name relies on me.
Indie and Regina have battled their way back to themselves, moulded themselves into a stronger force, willing to go up against a power that no other living being has dared reckon with.
Especially when you’re their primary target.
Not many people can say they’ve done the shit they have. Even with the limited knowledge on the group they fought against.
Which I also think was fucking ludicrous.
They’ve been lucky so far, or at least until we found them.
Which means Omnia has the means to do so; the luck lies with me finding them first.
Instead of trying to unveil the society to the world, she’s trying to take them down one by one—killing the ones their victims asked for.
She’s displaying control, helping people just like her, who she doesn’t even fucking know.
I don’t want control, not with them; I want to tear them limb from fucking limb.
I want to feel that burn that ignites the blood rushing in my veins as I watch each of them take their last breath, begging for a mercy that will never come.
I haven’t told her this yet, and I plan to, but I’m so fucking proud of her.
It seemed like an unachievable dream of mine for her to even get back to a somewhat normal life, never mind what she’s done on her own.
And just like the devious little shit had spellbound that thought into my head, she lazily glances up over Regina’s shoulder towards the darkened glass I’m behind and fucking winks.
We’re up in the observation room. My dad bought this place sixteen years ago, an old, abandoned factory he’s passed on to me.
With the connection he’s made throughout time, this place is well hidden, far enough deep in the woodland you wouldn’t stumble upon it by accident. It’s a minefield to even trace who really owns it.
Stretching across one million square feet, we’ve kept the rustic worn-down factory still intact, only reinforcing its exterior and restructuring the interior.
This section of the building is for training missions; our veterans assist to simulate real-life scenarios for intercepting and various other shit.
It’s supported when we’ve had clients, because you’re always guaranteed with their shady shit that bullets will fly.
I’ve overseen too many ‘meetings’ gone wrong to bypass this type of luxury.
The underworld is our source of income, and they’ve also been the ones to open the gate for us to Omnia.
The teams are split in two across the far end of the wooden structure, created to mimic clearing rooms and eliminating threats.
It gets torn down and rebuilt each time, because it builds different threats and weaknesses and boosts their skills on dealing with interchanging areas.
I don’t have any military experience. I learn from those around me, and I’ve become creative in my own way on how I take a life.
Indie might be able to handle a gun and bring down people bigger than her, but she’s only ever done it one on one.
Her long-distance shooting could use work. Fuck, that unsteady laser sight in the cabin still makes me shudder, but I don’t need those skills for her.
Though, if she wants to be treated like the rest of my team, she needs to learn to work with one, and more than one person trying to kill her.
A hand grips my shoulder as I face down the balcony, Rex chuckling as he glances down to my viewpoint.
