20. On My Way
20
On My Way
K eep holding on; don’t give up on me yet… The mantra echoes in my head like a desperate plea, a lifeline to cling to in all of the chaos going on. The tracker’s signals had partially crashed earlier, leaving us scrambling to fix the mess, but at least our communication system is holding steady—for now, at least.
“Tap in when you’re ready, Ghost,” Cam calls over his shoulder, his voice calm but edged with urgency.
“Well, I ain’t waiting another damn minute,” I snap, pacing as the tension coils tighter in my chest like a snake wrapping around its prey. “We’ve been screwing around for too long.” My eyes lock onto the array of monitors sprawled across the table in front of us.
Cam is like a mad genius. His fingers fly across the keyboard, pulling up lines of code faster than my brain can process. Each new string he lines up brings us closer to pinpointing where the girls are being held.
Layla is hunched over another monitor, her sharp eyes scanning the grainy live feeds of the city’s camera system. Every flicker, every shadow could mean something—or nothing at all. Across the room, Raph sits quietly at the edge of the table, his jaw tight, tension radiating from him like a storm about to break. None of us can afford to relax, not now, not with lives hanging in the balance.
“Here goes nothing,” I mutter under my breath, though my voice betrays the flicker of hope I can’t quite extinguish. Still, I temper my expectations—hope has a nasty habit of backfiring when I let myself lean into it too hard.
I press the mic button, the soft click followed by two short beeps. The signal fires out into the void, and the waiting begins. The seconds stretch like hours as I listen for the confirmation we need. Adrian’s voice should come through any moment now, telling us he’s received the signal loud and clear.
The room is heavy with silence, broken only by the rhythmic tapping of Cam’s keyboard and the occasional static crackle of the equipment. Every muscle in my body is taut, ready to spring into action the moment we get the green light. Because this isn’t just another night, this is about to be a damn war zone, and the clock is ticking.
My ladies need me and I need them home just as bad.
My hand hovers over the mic as if it will speed up Adrian’s response. Every sound in the room feels magnified. The clock on the wall ticks and makes me dip my toes into my boots. The computer keys still click a mile a minute, and everyone else is waiting silently for the go.
“Come on, Adrian,” I mutter under my breath. My voice is barely audible. “Don’t make me wait any longer.”
Layla glances up from the monitor. Her brows are furrowed in concern. “He will answer G,” she says.
“Damn right he will,” Raph speaks up in a grumbled and impatient voice. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans back into the chair. His head tilted back, and he looks up at the ceiling.
Finally, Adrian’s voice fills the room, low and in a steady whisper. Someone must be close enough that they can possibly hear him. “I’m here.”
Relief floods through my body and goose bumps cover my skin. Everyone puts on their earpieces, ready to join in. “Cam is working on your location; hang tight,” I let out in certainty.
“I got it!” Cam shouts with excitement. “They are in a secluded area. Somewhere, we probably never would have guessed. I am working on the address now.”
I tilt my head back, closing my eyes only for a moment, taking a deep breath. Finally, good fucking news.
“565 Church Lane, about two and a half hours south of here. If you want to move, I’d say move now.” Cam spits out in a rush. “I am sending the address to you all now.”
“Let’s go!” I shout, nearly shaking the walls. Everyone shuffles around, grabs gear, and loads up. As much as I wish I could join most of them on my bike, Raph and I are loading up into the van with our big boy toys—enough infantry to kill a small army. Explosive devices are just in case we need a way in, and grenades are to pave the way.
The van roars to life as Raph slams his foot on the gas, tires fighting against the gravel. We enter the city as it blurs past in streaks of neon and darkness, but none of it matters. All that matters is the road ahead, the target waiting that is two and a half hours south, and the adrenaline roaring in my veins. Marklov is about to become my bitch. No mercy. No forgiveness.
I clutch my gun, my fingers drumming against it as I run through the plan over and over in my head. We’re going in hard, no hesitation. I need to have a level head before entering. My crew is pretty damn good at listening, and I don’t want anyone to die over this prick.
Cam’s voice crackles in my earpiece. “You’re making good time, but you need to be smart. No idea how many men he has lined up ready to die for him.”
Raph scoffs, one hand gripping the wheel, the other adjusting the suppressor on his pistol. “We’ve never been the ‘smart’ type, Cam. We just do.”
I smirk, but it fades fast. My gut tells me we don’t have the luxury of walking in blind. “Any chatter on the lines? Movement? Anything since we left?”
A crackle of static. Then Cam’s voice, tight with frustration. “Shit. I’ve got nothing. No visuals, no audio. The whole damn place is dark for me.”
My pulse hammers. Raph’s jaw tightens. This isn’t just bad—it’s a fucking nightmare. Where the fuck is Adrian?
“We improvise,” I mutter, more to myself than to them. “Once we’re close, we kill the lights, cut the engines. We move in silence and heavy. Pack everything we can carry, but leave some crew behind to cover us. We need a way in.”
“And if there isn’t one?” Raph’s knuckles go white on the wheel.
I check my gun and chamber a round. “Then we make one.”
The van roars down the highway, eating the miles, the city’s glow shrinking in the rear view. Two hours out. Maybe less if Raph keeps driving like a possessed man.
I lean forward, eyes locked on the darkness ahead.
We’re coming for you.
I’m coming for you, Inés.