“It’s Velle. All hands on deck.”
“Copy. Less than fifty yards north.”
My chest is constricting.
“Prisoners are fleeing south on foot…”
“…old armory…”
“Copy, we’re—”
“Shit… Kent’s down!Fuck!”
My stomach drops so fast, I’m dizzy.
Whipping my walkie to my face, I snarl, “Who took Kent down?? I want their fucking head!”
“It was… one of Russo’s men.”
The rapid popping of automatic rifles comes in louder while they’re speaking, softening in between. The fact that it’s audible from in here means they aren’t far.
I hear the familiar whirring of a motorcycle engine…
I have to go now. I have to… Fuck.
Not… Kent. Not him.
The ache in my chest feels far too real. It’s sore and throbbing, and I loathe it.
He was a good man… He didn’t deserve to die for this.
Qué estoy haciendo…?
What the fuck am I doing here?
Is this even what you wanted??
Squeezing my eyes shut, I gasp for breath as my heart flies. This is all so fucked…
In my bones, I know that now is the time to stop. To call it off because it’s pointless. Iknowthat.
But then thisiswhat comes…
Sangre por sangre.
It’s bloody for fucking blood.
Lifting my walkie slowly to my curling lips, I growl, “Go.” That one word is enough instruction for them to move ahead with full power. But I still seethe, “Todo. Every last one of you… Load the fuckup.”
No more hesitating, no moremercy.
They will feel my wrath. Because it’s all I have left.
Lo siento, pajarito…
But I told you who I was.
“Copy that, Jefe.”
