I slide the scope forward and start naming the dummies like I’m checking off a list.
Front and center is Jon. Threw us off his trail when he let his tongue get cut out. Would’ve been brilliant, but the dummy’s here, askin’ for trouble. And it’s obvious it’s him. His stance gives him away. Shoulders hunched. Spine looking like it’s apologizing. I’ve seen that posture on the ship when he tried to stir shit up. Loud mouth. Weak center. Same even under a mask.
Behind him is Marco. His neck’s so thick, his head can’t rotate. He’s lookin’ real angry with that glare his mask can’t hide. All that rage he’s not pretending to hold back is probably for all the ‘roids.
Next is Tomas. Tall and slim, posture straighter than the rest, eyes wide in a wired way. He almost looks out of place standing with the others.
All three of ‘em look like they’re high on Kys if they’re acting this smug when clearly, they’re scared, walking through the dark my night vision scope can see through.
Then there’s the last one, who hangs back, letting the others movefirst like he’s above the rush. Fake confidence pours outta him. Long strides that don’t really commit to the floor. The scowl’s obvious beneath the black ski mask. His blue eyes even more so. His permanent resting-funeral-director face could be picked out of a lineup blindfolded.
Darius. He moves forward with all the certainty of a man who thinks this ends clean and in his favor, but I know that’s the Kys talking through him.
Hey, listen, I get it. Ma brainwashed me with it too, but I’m pretty sure Darius got it worse.
My scope follows him. Straight toward his brother’s room. Like this is some easy retrieval, not a mess waiting to explode.
They don’t know they won’t make it to the door.
Even if they do, Idris won’t be there. Damon warned me that when Darius was sober enough to share Set’s plans, he wouldn’t want Idris out of his sight. Now, I know why Idris told me—all those weeks ago, when I first met him—that he knew how it felt to have a helicopter parent.
Compared to Clo, pretty sure Set’s worse.
I hold my breath before my finger traces the trigger and goes for the pull.
The shot takes Jon high in the shoulder, right where that hunched posture leaves him wide open. He hits the ground hard, yelling something I can’t hear from here.
“Oops,” I murmur, lining up the next shot.
Marco reacts exactly how I expect. Big movement. Awkward turn. All instinct, no thought. His foot lands wrong when he pivots, and I put a round straight through it before his brain can catch up. He howls and hops back on one leg like a pissed off flamingo, face pink where the mask can’t reach his giant head.
“Oh my god,” I mutter, trying not to shake from my giggles. “That’shilarious.”
Tomas barely gets a second to process what’s happening before I take him in the nose. Honestly, I didn’t have to. I just wanted to. Clean shot, dead center, because I can aim like a motherfucker, and sometimes it’s important to remind people of that. He drops back clutching his face, blood everywhere, shock written all over his eyes.
And then there’s Darius. I don’t know if it’s Kys, Set’s brainwashing, or just Darius’ rude attitude, but the man just keeps going, not giving a shit about his fallen pawns.
The bastard moves fast. Faster than the others. He bolts for the room where Idrisshouldbe.
Too bad I saw that move coming miles away.
I track him quickly, and fire my sniper rifle right when his hand reaches for the door. The shot takes his right thumb off. He screams and stumbles, clutching it to his chest.
At least, it seems to snap him out of his Kys hypnosis a little.
I snort to myself. “Guess who’s the asshole who can’t give two thumbs up anymore.” My brows draw together. “Wait… Is itthumbsup or thumbups?”
I’m still muttering when Darius goes through the door and the hospital room lights up. So does the rest of the building, because a control freak who hatched this whole plan is in there. Not Idris.Nope, my control freak of a brother put him somewhere safe, artificial heart and all.
The scope switches back to normal. No more night vision needed. Through the lens, I see Darius looking startled at the man seated across the room.
Damon. He’s sitting on a corner sofa, using the armrests to do that evil villain hands thing where they form a triangle. Like this was some sort of plot twist where I don’t know which one’s worse. My oldest brother, Damon, who’s trying to outmaneuver a deadly Adel.Or Darius, who’s so deep in his sleeper agent mode and addicted to Kys that I don’t know if his sob story about his son holds up. If I were him, I would’ve turned against my daddy handler a long time ago and fled with my family.
But honestly, maybe,I’mthe worst. ‘Cause clearly I don’t give a shit about what they do either way. If Damon wants to attract trouble, that’s his problem. And if Darius is in deeper shit, then the hell am I supposed to do?
I got family of my own now. Lix, Em and I are expecting, and she’ll only pop more babies out for us from here on out. I’m gonna put ‘em firstabove everything.
Okay, so yeah, maybe I don’t get it. I don’t know why Damon and Darius are taking these messy routes in life, but I’m getting paid hefty for this job, so I keep lookin’ through my scope, making sure I shoot anything that endangers Damon.
