Page 88 of Crimson Heart

And then, just like they’d planned it, Mason pointed toward the entrance to the cul-de-sac, where Grant was filming the entire incident with a cell phone camera.

“Get that fucking video!” Mason yelled out.

Mason and Austin ran toward Grant, who then spun around and hightailed it out of reach. It would make the subsequent video look more realistic. ICE agents trying to destroy camera equipment and any recordings that innocent bystanders managed to make was par for the course. And the video being posted anonymously online would also make sense. The innocent bystander didn’t want to be identified for fear of reprisals.

“Let’s get out of here,” Jude finally ordered and looked around.

Byron did the same. There was no one else who could have witnessed the incident. But the gunshots would quickly attract people. Time was of the essence.

They jumped into their respective SUVs, turned them around quickly, and sped away.

Byron let out a breath and looked at Jude, who was driving.

“You think they’ll buy it?”

Jude smirked. “Mason and Austin chasing Grant to try to get his recording will be the icing on the cake.”

Byron had to hand it to Jude and his team. They were pros. For an operation like this to be pulled off without a hitch in such a short time was an amazing achievement.

Francisco watched as the two SUVs carrying Jude and several others of their team turned around and left the cul-de-sac. Not losing any time, he drove the ambulance onto the street, stopping it only a few feet short of the Leons’ car, angling it so that nobody else could drive past him or see what was going on.

He jumped out of the car, dressed in hospital gear and already wearing gloves so he wouldn’t leave any fingerprints anywhere. Wendell had changed out of the road works uniform into scrubs in the back of the ambulance. By the time Francisco reached the back of the van and opened the double doors, Wendell was ready to jump out, a bag with medical supplies in his hand.

Together, they rushed to the three men his colleagues had shot. Both Bruno and Hector lay on the ground, the driver’s door and the passenger door still open, while Steve was still in the back seat of the SUV. Several of the windows had shattered, spreading glass shards everywhere.

Francisco reached into Wendell’s bag and grabbed a pre-filled syringe. “I’m taking Bruno. Take care of Hector.”

He crouched down to Bruno, whose chest wounds were substantial, blood oozing from various wounds. His neck also showed a gunshot wound, though it had missed his carotid artery, which was unfortunate. Francisco didn’t bother listening for a pulse. He had to work quickly, or Bruno’s Lycan body would have a chance at regenerating and repairing his wounds. He stuck the syringe deep into the largest wound in his chest and emptied its contents into it. The silver nitrate worked quickly, making the blood bubble as the silver attacked everything around it, eating up the damaged tissue and spreading deeper into the organs.

The silver would leave no evidence behind. During the autopsy, a medical examiner would simply see the vast damage the bullets had done. In the absence of any silver bullets or other supernatural weapons, the Leon pack would have to believe that their leader and his family had been killed by ICE because they fit their preferred target: people with dark skin.

Francisco pulled the empty syringe out of Bruno and rose. He walked around the car, where Wendell was just finishing injecting Hector.

“I’ll do Steve,” Francisco said, and put the used syringe into Wendell’s bag, and took out another. He reached through the shot-out window into the car to unlock the door. As he opened it, Steve moved.

He was bleeding profusely, but it appeared his wounds weren’t as numerous and tightly grouped as the ones of his father and uncle. He was still conscious. He opened his eyes, and a gurgling sound came from his throat.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be joining your family in a moment,” Francisco said.

Fear blinked from Steve’s eyes, and he moved his arm, but Francisco was faster. He pressed him back into the seat and jabbed the syringe into his largest chest wound. He emptied the silver nitrate into him as fast as he could. A pained grunt came from Steve.

“He’s still alive?” Wendell asked from behind him.

All tension seeped from Steve’s body.

“Not anymore.”

Again, Francisco removed the syringe and tossed it in Wendell’s bag.

“Let’s move,” Wendell said.

They rushed back to the ambulance and jumped in. Francisco turned it around and drove away the same way they’d come. When they reached the hospital from which they’d borrowed the ambulance, they donned face masks before exiting the vehicle. Quickly, they made their way into the hospital, where they went to the closest men’s room. Inside, they rid themselves of the scrubs they’d worn over their street clothes and left as if they were regular visitors or outpatients.

“That went better than I expected,” Wendell said.

“Great teamwork.”

In the parking lot, Grant was already expecting them. They got into the car.

“You got the footage?” Francisco asked.

Grant handed him the phone. “It’s all yours.”

“Good. Let’s go. I can edit and upload this while we’re driving.”

The video Grant had shot didn’t need much editing. Francisco applied a filter to disguise the voices of the Werewolf Alliance team members and clipped the video at the right spots. He logged into a bogus social media account he’d created earlier and uploaded it, making sure to attach the right metadata that would help it reach the right channels. It didn’t take long for it to be shared by other users. When they reached the estate, the video was already going viral, and outrage was spreading about ICE once again killing innocent U.S. citizens.

Their work was done.