Just like every other time he delivers, I expect to spend the time together in silence. All words of hate and anger between us have long been said, now we’re just two people who choose not to initiate conversation. So, when he clears his throat while walking closer to me, I’m wary.
Stunned into a frozen state. The sandwich in my hand falls against the tray, the soft thud of the bread is the only other sound, save for my ragged breathing. My jaw hangs open as he prowls towards me, a vision of death in his own right. And then for the first time in years, he speaks to me.
“I’m only going to be able to say this once, so listen quietly. I will come to get you in three days' time. Be ready. Don’t ask questions, don’t speak and most of all, don’t look back. If I need you in the future, I’ll reach out to you to recover the debt,” he whispers, hushed and low.
I nod my head, still stunned into a silent state, as I pick my sandwich up to finish. The rest of my meal, Jerome goes back to the wall, and the room returns to silence. Inmy head however, there is anything but silence. My mind is yelling at me, questions tumbling over each other trying to find an answer. Why now? Why is he helping me? What is his plan? Is this another trap? Trap or not, I need to take this out. There’s never going to be another opportunity like this and I can’t waste it.
Three days pass and the time has come. I’ve sat in the room, quiet and waiting, ready at a moment’s notice. The sounds of a scuffle outside the room, followed by a large bang, has me shooting into a standing position. Something—or someone—hits the door, and I grab the bag Jerome brought me yesterday. The clothing I’ve been given, and minor personal items have been shoved inside, waiting for our time.
My breath stalls with anticipation as the familiar click of the lock echoes throughout the room once more. My lungs burn for air, but I’m too nervous to breathe. Hoping and praying it’s Jerome on the other side, and not someone else.
The door swings open with a loud thud, the air rushing from my lungs when Jerome’s face comes into view. I rush towards him, his arms holding out a handgun and blade for me to arm myself. His instructions are clear, no sound, no questions, and no looking back as I follow him out of the room and down the corridor.
We hug the walls, sticking to them like glue and watching for anybody coming this way. Every step takes me closer to the freedom I’ve been desperate to see and further away from the horrors I’ve felt. We move slowly, creeping towards the staircase at the end of the hall. Time drags as we descend, seconds feeling like minutes, minutes like hours, as we head for the main floor. Of course, nothing stays that easy.
Three men stand at the far end of the room, talking about jobs while they smoke their cigarettes. Jerome pulls me, throwing me into a nearby room for cover as we listen to their ramblings and complaints. The radio’s on their hips cut in, orders being shouted through staticky reception and two out of the three walk off to the left. The last man stays in his spot, standing guard as his name is called and he’s joined.
Dwight.
My eyes find Jerome’s, as my heart creates a new rhythm based in fear. I gaze into his eyes as they stare back at me, wondering how we’re supposed to get passed without being noticed—or shot. Jerome’s gaze narrows, creases forming around the edges as he shakes his head. The quiet answer to my fear. We’re not trying to avoid.
With a signal to me that he’s got the left and I’m to take out the right, my heart drops and my adrenaline surges. Taking out the right means that Dwight is in my crosshairs and I’m responsible for making him drop. I take a steadying breath, the fear I may miss almost as strong as the enjoyment at my revenge. My arms sneak around the corner, braced against the door frame as I aim for my target.
Three.
Two.
One.
Two bangs ring through the walls simultaneously, with two bodies hitting the floor directly after. The breath I had been holding leaks from my throat and my eyes close, heavy from relief. He’s gone, dead. The man I can safely say has been my worst tormentor, has been wiped from the earth. By my hand no less.
We don’t wait as we run through the rest of the house. The gun shots have alerted the guard that something is amiss and now there’s not a second to waste. Running out of the house, the yard is formidably easier to get through. Only needing to end a few more Havoc Viper members, before breaching the compound's borders.
Jerome stays with me until I make it to the nearest bus station. Handing me a rolled-up wad of cash, a secondary magazine fully stocked with bullets, and a single ticket for New Jersey. He says nothing, but the look in his eyes would have me believing—if only delusionally—he may actually miss me. Patting me on the shoulder, he turns, ready to head back to the chaos we left behind, but there’s something that still gnaws at me from the inside.
“Jerome,” I call, watching him stop but not turn around. “Why?”
This time, his head pivots to the side, one eye looking over his shoulder towards me.
“After everything he did, everything we all did, you survived. You chose to get stronger, to keep going. His plans were to kill you this weekend—an accident during a mission, ending your servitude on his terms. He saw the light dimming behind your eyes and deemed you no longer worthy of his mission. Something…,” he pauses, his eyes closing hard and his jaw straining. “Something in my gut told me I couldn’t let it happen. That you would be the one that sets us all free in the end.” With a hanging head, his feet move, jogging back towards the Vipers home base.
Kill me? I whimper, a single tear falling across my cheek as I realize just how close I came to the end. How Jerome risked his life, is still risking it, just to help me avoid a brutal and bloody demise. When the time comes that he needs me, I won’t hesitate to assist. It’s the least I can do to pay him back for what he’s done, and if I can, I’ll find out how to set him free.
The noise of an engine crawls up from behind me, the bus approaching right on time. I swipe the back of my hand against my face, wiping away the last tear I’ll shed because of Colt and his men, and climb onboard. I’m in for a long ride, but that’s okay, because it gives me the time I need. Time in which I create my own plans, because right here, right now, I know deep within my soul.
Iwillbe the last thing Colt will see.
Chapter Eighteen
Mikayla
Finally, we arrive at the water and find a parking spot. The guys jump out, collecting the bags and other beachy items, leaving nothing for me to grab. Theyreallywanted to make this a day to remember, as they basically brought every single item they could possibly find. I don’t even think we’ll be able to use half of this in a single day.
Max, with arms full of umbrellas and floaties, catches the edge of his sandal against the curb as we head for the sand, faceplanting into one of the beach bags. Everyone bursts into belly-shaking laughter as the three others step right over him and continue looking for a spot to claim. I stop, crouching beside a groaning Max, and quickly assess whether or not he’s hurt himself. Though, I think the floaties cushioned his fall.
“All good there, Love?” I ask, grabbing the beach chair that flew from his hand.
“First day with new feet,” he laughs, cracking a huge smile my way. “I’ll get used to them eventually.”
