21. I’m Here Now
21
I’m Here Now
T he van rolls to a halt, its tires crunching against the hard ground. The engine dies. The cold swoops in quicker than I am able to exit the vehicle. No streetlights, no sound beyond the wind biting at our skin. Everyone soon shows up, parking their bikes off in a spot unnoticeable from the road view. I take a second, looking at everyone here. I built this family from the ground up. I laid down blood, sweat, and tears to break a sick and twisted cycle that I had no choice but to be a part of growing up. These guys right here– I can’t say that I’d be here today if it weren’t for them but they sure as hell helped in more ways than I can count. They have been through so many things with me, but this—I will never be able to repay them for doing this. I owe them everything and more.
Our GPS indicates that the house is about a mile up, nestled in the ass crack of the woods. We gather everything and anything that we can carry, Raph looks like someone that popped straight out of a war movie. His earpiece snakes up the side of his face, and his beanie keeps it in place. A tattoo of his sister’s name rests on his trigger finger as if every kill he ever does is with her guiding him to pull it.
“Let’s go.” He huffs out.
“Ai, ai, sir!” I take in the moment as Raph looks around, commanding our crew on what he thinks would be the best approach. This shit is messy. But what is life without a beautiful mess?
We push through the bitter cold, but the adrenaline coursing through our veins keeps us from feeling it. Our breaths come out in short, controlled bursts, white clouds dissolving into the night air. Silent glances are exchanged—sharp nods of understanding, a wordless pact that tonight, we either win or we die trying.
“Adrian, are you there?” My voice is low, urgent, as my feet continue to push me forward, boots crunching against the frozen solid ground. Then it hits me—the thick and sickly sweet scent of iron. Death lingers in the air like an omen. Blood will rain down on us all before this night is over.
The radio crackles softly. No words. Just the clearing of a throat. My stomach knots. That’s his signal—he is not alone. Someone’s watching. Listening.
“Alright, everyone. Stick to the plan.” I keep my voice steady as I relay the message through the earpieces. “We only get one shot at this. We make it count.” Adrian can hear everything we say. He better brace himself because we’re coming in hot.
Every step forward feels like trudging through hell itself. The pain in my leg pulses, a brutal reminder of too recent of my past wounds, but I force myself to keep moving forward. Mind over matter. I have survived worse. I damn sure won’t stop now. Inés belongs to me in this life and the next. And Esmé… No one needs me to remind them of what she means to me. If I’d burn the world down for my Little Killer—then for Esmé? I’d reduce it to fucking obsidian and make a diamond for the next life. She will live forever.
Marklovs place is ahead, a fortress of death and deception. Armed men stand posted up across the property, their movements precise and disciplined. We crouch low, hidden in the shadows, scanning every possible angle.
I exchange a look with Raph. “How many do you count?”
His eyes sweep the land like a predator sizing up prey. “Fifteen from my side. Lana, what about you?”
The silence stretches for a beat too long.
Then Lana exhales. “Uhmmm… ten at the back.”
Twenty-five. At the very least. I tighten my grip on my weapon. The night is about to get painted in blood. A single breath. That is all I take before signaling the attack.
The night bursts into chaos. Gunfire rings in my ears and shatters the silence, ripping through the cold air. The first shots are ours. Raph and I are in sync. Sharp, precise, and deadly together as always. Marklovs front man jerks backward, blood spraying from his throat as he collapses into the frozen ground aligned with snow. Damn it. What a beautiful site. Something about crimson snow just rings fire into my soul. Another man stumbles forward, a hole punched clean through his skull before he even knows he is dead. His body hit the ground with a thud.
Shouts begin to echo across the outstretched land. My crew moves mercilessly as Marklovs moves frantically. They were not expecting us this soon. Fuckin great. Amazing. Terrific.
“Push forward!” I shout as loud as I can, not bothering to continue using the radio.
Raph moves alongside with me. Lana and the others follow. We cover the front and back, sweeping each area as we go. No one is getting out of here tonight if it isn’t with me.
Bullets rip past us, cutting through the cold air, whispering past us in a chaotic fury. Marklovs men shoot wildly, their aim is uncalculated, fueled by desperation instead of precision. You can almost taste the fear in the air.
“G, we’re about to be by the doors!” Raph shouts over all of the gunfire and chaos. His voice is sharp and urgent.
Before I can respond, more men come pouring out of the house–armed, reckless, blind. They don’t see us for what we truly are… death is already at your doorstep.
“Get down!” Lana’s voice cuts through the chaos like a samurai with his blade, leaving no room for argument. I turn just in time to see her gripping a grenade, eyes wide with something dark. Something fucking beautiful.
She bites the pin free, spitting it to the side like she is trained, and hurls the grenade with a calculated flick of her wrist. Holy shit. I am impressed. It arcs high, disappearing only for a moment before landing with a clink right where they all stand.
A split second. A heartbeat. A moment of silence. Then boom.
A violent explosion amplifies through the night. Chunks of flesh and bone rain from the sky, painting the ground in different shades of crimson.
As promised, it is raining blood and flesh. A beautiful, chaotic site to see, if only Little Killer could see me right now. See us.
I told you I’m coming for you.
I close my eyes for half a second, feeling the heat, the carnage, the promise of vengeance unfolding right in front of me as I swore it would.
Smoke engulfs the area as the others take Lana’s lead. Marklovs ant farm seems to keep coming out of the woodwork. Explosion after explosion. We take it all in like Champs while his men fight to see and breathe. Fire sparks up the front of the house, engulfing one man after another. Shrapnel tears through flesh and screams echo for miles. The smells of burnt flesh and a metallic scent follow, feeding me into it all even more.
“The house is on fire! We don’t have much time! I’m going in!” I shout.
Flame is nothing but a way of becoming purified. But not tonight. Tonight is about putting out old flames and creating a life I once promised.