65. Conrad
T he sound of the engine seems to roar in my ears. I don’t give a fuck that it might give us away.
I don’t give a fuck what the consequences are.
For the first time in my life I feel invincible, untouchable.
Antonio is muttering something into the piece in my ear, but he could be speaking French for all I cared.
We had a location.
As we pulled up, I could see the outline of the house illuminated by the starry sky. It was almost picturesque. Like a fairytale castle. Did Brynn feel hope when she was brought here? Did she think this place would be her respite at first?
Perhaps I’ll punish her, when we’re safely away from here. But then, maybe, she’s suffered enough at another’s hands to learn where her loyalties should lie. I guess her reaction now will decide that outcome.
I jump out of the car as armed men file out around me.
It’s a tactical assault. A raid. My lips curl as I realise the numbers we have. Lucas doesn’t stand a chance against us. But as quick as that form fills my head, I brush it off. I was confident before, so damned confident, and look where it got me. Where it got Brynn. I thought my house, my home would be secure enough to keep her safe. I’m not going to be so stupid to allow my arrogance to fuck us over again.
There’s a gentle slope up to the house. I bet on a nice day, it’s almost scenic.
“Conrad,” Antonio mutters, beckoning me over like I’m his lapdog.
“What?” I snarl. Like I want to stand around gossiping all day when Brynn is right there, right up that hill.
“There’s a good chance a man called Xavier Heeps is in that house. If he is, then he’s mine, do you understand?”
“I don’t give a fuck about anyone but Brynn.” I state. But that’s not exactly true. I want him, I want her father, I want Lucas Asher.
And I want the man that touched her, the men, I want them all dead. I want them all erased from existence.
I clench my fists, trying to calm myself. Patience. Fucking patience. I will have them, I will have them all. God is on my side. God favours me. He won’t let them go unpunished. He won’t let them beat me, not in this.
We move on in silence, only the sound of ruffling fabric can be heard.
Antonio is near enough that I can reach out and grab him, but I don’t look in his direction. I keep my eyes firmly on the target ahead.
As we round the corner, there’s a group of them ahead, like they’re hiding out. Waiting.
Did someone alert them to our presence? Did they know we were coming?
Too fucking bad that they’re not ready because it takes barely a minute before we’ve blasted each and every one of them. I count twenty as I step over their bodies and continue on.
Twenty isn’t a bad number. Maybe they’ve split their force up, decided to hedge their bets. Either way, they won’t beat us.
Somewhere in that house, my wife is trapped. Is she in pain? Is she tied up, trussed up? Are they even now abusing her?
I let out a growl before I can think not to, and I hear the warning noise Antonio makes in response. As if one sound from me is enough to alert a house this big anyway.
As we climb the low stone wall I look for signs of life, but it’s deserted. The house is in darkness. It’s as if it’s been abandoned and for one horrific moment, I fear that is the case. That they’ve been tipped off, that they’ve moved her, taken her somewhere further from my reach.
“Brynn,” I murmur.
Again, Antonio curses, like I give a fuck what his opinion is.
We let the men break in first. They’re quiet, more skilled at gaining entry than I would be because I’m all for smashing the doors in and shooting our way.
After a few moments we get the signal to move. Antonio heads right down the left hand side, as if he knows exactly where Lucas is hiding. And while I can’t wait to get my hands on the bastard, my focus is my wife. Once I have her safe, then I can think about revenge.
There’s a great winding staircase. I make my way up just as silently, with my gun drawn. On the first floor something moves and I’m quick to pull the trigger. Thankfully the silencer keeps the sound down but there’s nothing to disguise the cry the man makes as he falls flat on his face.
Beneath me, I can hear the rising clamour of the battle. Shouts, gun fire, the sound of objects smashing tell me that the time for stealth is over.
It takes me a second to remove the silencer, and then I’m back, focused, moving onwards. The thing might have been useful at the start, but it means you can’t shoot as straight and I’m all for the accuracy right now.
A guard rounds the corner, and his eyes widen as he sees me. Before he can react, I shoot him in the neck, and he falls back. As his body slumps I crouch down, asking him where Brynn is. Only, the man is dead or as good as.
I kick him over, leaving him to bleed out while I carry on looking.
Room by room, I make my way. Maybe it’s the noise of Antonio’s lot that gains all the attention, because there’s a distinct lack of guards in this section.
I climb another staircase, this time the servants one. On the next floor, I spot the guard, standing with his back to me as if he’s too stupid to recognise death when it creeps through the darkness.
I smirk, taking aim, and hit his lower back right where I intended. The fucker will never walk again, not that he’ll be drawing a breath come sunrise. I stride up to him, kicking him so that he rolls over and he coughs up, blood splattering his lips.
“Tell me where Brynn is.” I growl.
The man blinks, his bloodied lips turning into a grin. “Fuck you.” He gasps.
It’s the wrong fucking thing to say.
I kneel down, pulling my dagger, and I plunge it into his left thigh. “Fucking tell me,” I snarl.
He splutters more; he groans, but I can tell it’s a losing cause.
Fine then, I don’t need him when there’s a hundred more of his ilk between me and my wife. He’s not special. He’s not necessary.
I plunge the blade into his eyes, one after another as he howls. His hands try to bat me away but with his spine as good as useless, he doesn’t have the physical strength to do anything of worth.
As I get to my feet, I point almost lazily at his forehead and pull the trigger, but I’m barely two metres away when someone comes barrelling into me. I’m quick to land a punch and then I’m ducking, avoiding the blow aimed straight for my face.
Finally, a real fucking fight.
The man tilts his head, as if he too can sense the energy coming off me.
He’s big, bulky, but not all of it is muscle. Stupid fat fuck should have spent more time in the gym than eating all the pies. He’s no match for me on a normal day, and today, I’m not normal. Today I’m a fucking psycho.
As he attacks again, I can see he’s untrained, unskilled. What he lacks in talent though he clearly thinks he can make up for in brute strength.
I let him land a punch, a good hit to my ribs. The pain helps, the pain gets my own adrenaline pumping, and it’s a reminder of what the stakes are. What happens if I get cocky.
He swings again, a lazy, poorly timed swing that tells me the bastard thinks he’s winning this, and that’s when I make my move. I let his arm come around and then I’m reaching out, snatching it, bending it right the way it doesn’t fucking bend. He howls, and we both hear the delicious sound as the bone cracks.
“How’s that feel, huh?” I taunt.
He falls to his knees. Hard, and his other hand curls into a fist, as if he could do enough to hurt me now.
I lift my boot, kicking him right in the jaw before he can land it and he falls back as the blood spurts out, and a few of his teeth go flying.
“Where the fuck is my wife?” I ask, getting right into his mangled face.
He shakes his head like he doesn’t know who I’m talking about and I snatch at his throat, hauling him up to look me in the eyes.
“Brynn, where the fuck is she?”
He mumbles something incoherent, something bullshit. I release my grip, letting the fucker hit the floor hard. And then he repeats whatever it is, but his mouth is too mangled, too broken to make sense.
I pull my gun, finger on the trigger but as I go to put the bullet in his useless brain, another guard comes running.
Like I have fucking time for this.
Brynn is here, Brynn is somewhere in this house.
I need to get to her. I need to find her.
I shoot the newcomer, then deal with the half-dead oaf at my feet.
Another guard comes careening out at me. I take aim, blasting him back, blasting his buddy right after him.
It feels like an onslaught now, an actual battle. I can feel my heart starting to pound in my chest.
It’s been years since I’ve had a real fight, a real contest. That’s the downside about being a Blake, being a Reaper. The odds are almost always on your side, it makes these games more than a little boring.
But not today. No, today, any moment one of these fuckers could beat me. I could be the one lying here, bleeding out.
And then what? What would happen to my dear wife then? I don’t want to think about that, I don’t want to contemplate it.
I need to focus on the now, on the killing first, then the finding after.
By the time I make it to the next set of stairs, there’s half a dozen men dead and dying behind me.
I can hear the sound of gunfire growing steadily louder and it tells me that either Antonio doesn’t give a fuck about Lucas anymore, or he has him secured, and now he’s on a rampage too.
Boots appear on the top step. I shoot first, then shoot the pair that follow after. Stupid fucks, did no one teach them basic fucking countermeasures? Who walks right down a stairwell when their buddy just got their toes shot off?
The third man clearly learns the lesson the first two ignored and he takes off running, yelling, like a little boy lost and wanting his mother.
I make short work of his mates. They had one moment, one chance to kill me and instead they lay there, blubbering like babies.
I take aim but nothing comes out the barrel and I realise then, I’m out of damned rounds.
The guns they have are shit compared to mine, they’re all show and have no substance. But then beggars can’t be choosers.
I yank the assault rifle from one of the dead man’s necks. Who the fuck actually hangs the straps around them? What is this, a Call of Duty game?
The running man is quick. He’s almost at the end of the hallway when I take out his right knee. He slams down, face first into the plush rug and then he starts begging, pleading.
I stalk towards him, feeling like death himself and he turns, holding his hands together as if in prayer.
“Please, mister, please…”
God, he sounds like a child. Have his balls even dropped?
I narrow my eyes, seeing the hint of stubble on his chin and the obvious acne. I doubt the kid is more than nineteen.
“Where is she?” I ask that same fucking question.
“Please, I didn’t, I don’t.”
“Where the fuck is my wife?” I holler, pointing the barrel right at his throat.
“Mer, mer, mercy…” He sobs, crawling closer.
“I’ll give you mercy,” I reply. “If you tell me where Brynn is.”
“The, ba, basement.” He stammers.
The basement? Right where Antonio and his fucking men are headed.
I take a step back, losing what little control I have left and I slam my boot into his pitiful face. He howls, landing on his side.
“Please, mercy. You said you’d give me mercy.”
I don’t hesitate. I pull the trigger, aiming right for his puny chest. A bullet to the heart is far more fucking merciful than he deserves. A bullet to the heart is better than ending up in Antonio’s hands.
Besides, a man like this is worthless. He won’t know anything of use, and he isn’t interesting enough to bother with the hassle of taking him to Oblivion either.
I get to the ground floor, back the same way I came. Passing all the dead bodies.
Only, when I get to where the basement is, there’s a man blocking it.
He tilts his head, smirking as if he knows exactly who I am, with his gun pointed right at me. He looks like he’s already been in a fight. His shirt sleeve is torn, he’s got blood dripping from a wound in his shoulder and he’s panting like he raced to get here, like he intentionally put himself in my path.
I raise my own gun, pointing right for his chest, “Get the fuck out of my way,” I snarl.
Stupid old fuck. Like I can’t gun him down in a heartbeat.
“I wouldn’t go down there,” He replies. “You probably won’t like what you find.”
“And what is that?”
“Just a whore, getting what she deserves.” He shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant, only that movement is anything but.
I glance at the door, then back at him. Is he baiting me, is that it? Like I wouldn’t happily blow his fucking brains out.
“You know she fucked us all,” He says, laughing, “She was so keen to spread her legs, welcoming each cock, one after the other…”
“Shut your fucking mouth,” I pull the trigger, hitting him in the chest and he falls back before he gets back up, holding the bullet.
“Wearing a vest, mate,” He says as if I’m an idiot.
“Get the fuck out of my way, or you’ll be wearing the rest of my bullets,” I growl, raising my gun again.
He laughs more, before glancing at his watch like he’s on some kind of schedule.
“Waiting for backup?” I ask, “Not those twenty or so men we left dead in the woods?”
His face reacts, it tells me I’m spot on.
So, they did know we were coming. Is my wife even here? Or have they moved her somewhere and this is simply a distraction?
Someone far off hollers. It makes the bald fucker turn his head, and I seize that moment.
I pull the trigger, aiming not for his chest this time but for his throat, for that sweet spot where it’ll kill him, but it’ll take a little time.
He falls back, coughing up blood, and his head slams into the stone floor.
I step up to him, narrowing my eyes. “Did you fuck my wife?” I ask.
He grins, a bloodied, disgusting grin, “Every fucking chance I got,” He boasts.
The second bullet lands between his eyeballs. Sure, I meant to leave him to suffer but knowing he’s dead is a far better plan. With my heel, I drive my boot into his face, mashing up his features, churning up his nose, his eye sockets. I’ve got a good mind to pull my cock out and piss on him too but someone is yelling, calling my name.
And that puts the fear of God into me.