Chapter 20
The hunt
Atlas
I woke up buzzing, adrenaline surging through my veins. Tonight was the masquerade, and I couldn't sit still if I tried. My instincts screamed for action. Kitten and Becca were inside that mansion, suffering. Tonight, I'll put an end to it.
When Jacob and I dragged ourselves back to this shitty hotel last night, Yara was waiting. She took the drugged girl we'd pulled out of Vargas's house and brought her safely to my place. Once the girl sobered up, she told Yara she was twenty-two and from Tijuana.
She'd been on her own since she was seventeen—easy prey for a smooth-talking bastard who promised her a better life.
Instead, she ended up in one of Hector's cottages, passed around like free candy for two years, turning her into a broken soul.
She had no one to go back to. No family.
No home…nothing. I had Yara buy her some clothes, because all the others had gone to Hector's other victims.
Yara was instructed to get in touch with the Human Trafficking Salvation Army in Mexico. They work with trafficked victims to get them back on their feet and find their way back to their communities.
This will be the standard procedure for all the victims who have no family to go home to.
I hadn't touched the surveillance feeds since yesterday.
My brother had his eye on the security cameras, but was instructed not to discuss it with me unless Kit's life was in danger.
Jacob was right. Watching what those animals did to Kitlyn would rip my focus to shreds, and I couldn't afford that.
None of us could. I needed my mind clear, my hands steady and my rage controlled, especially tonight.
Our CIA team was already in place. Thirty men would be stationed in the shadows around Hector's property. Away from the cameras and the guards. They'd coordinated with the Mexican government for airport clearance, tactical authority, and the green light to take Hector's empire down.
The government wanted him gone, but they didn't have the manpower or the integrity. Too many were bought off, their silence secured with Hector's blood money. That was about to change. Once Hector was removed from the equation, the rest of the scum would be gone with him.
Tonight wouldn't be about politics or power plays. It was about Kitlyn, Becca and all the other victims living in that house of hell. Hector's mansion was a fortress with fifteen guards on rotation, alarms wired into every entry. A perimeter crawling with men who'd kill without hesitation.
None of that mattered. Jacob and I had our way in.
We'd bled the two scumbags in Mexico City for their invitations and their identities.
It's a good thing Hector didn't know all these men personally.
He's hardly met any of them, which worked out well given my height.
Vargas was considerably shorter. Every attendee tonight were just names on a roster; the women were sent or sold to these men; money was exchanged; and that was the end of the transaction.
With our masks in place, suits tailored to perfection, we'd blend right into Hector's cesspool of wealthy predators.
Wolves among wolves. I stood in front of the mirror now, pulling the black tie tight against my collar, the mask waiting on the table beside me.
My reflection looked calm, but I could feel my wrath brewing underneath, rattling its cage, looking for an escape.
Tonight, Hector's walls would fall.
Tonight, I'd take what is mine back!
I adjusted the cuffs of my shirt and slid the mask into the inner pocket of my jacket.
The disguise without the mask felt unnatural.
Too polished and too clean for what and who I was.
But tonight wasn't about me. This was about getting close enough to Hector to put a bullet in his head if I had to, or to take him back to my mansion and deal with him there.
No matter the outcome, there was one goal to accomplish: walking Kitlyn and Becca out alive.
Jacob was already dressed, his black suit crisp, his mask, a grotesque werewolf, resting in his lap.
He polished his pistol with steady hands, slipping a silencer on before tucking it into the hidden holster inside his jacket.
He looked like he was going to a business gala instead of walking into a slaughterhouse. We both did.
He looked at me with a crooked grin spread across his lips.
"You're ready and sure about the entire operation?"
I smirked, but not in a humorous way.
"When have I ever not been?"
He let out a dry chuckle. 'Fair point. Just remember, it's not just about detaining or killing Hector tonight. It's about getting the girls out safely. If you go off script, you'll risk everything."
I met his stare, cold and piercing. "We'll get the girls to safety. Hector will die when I'm ready to make him die."
Before Jacob could reply, my cell buzzed. Zach's voice came through the speaker, calm but with that edge of static from hacking through encrypted channels.
"We've got eyes on the perimeter," Zach said.
"Fifteen guards confirmed, plus internal security rotations every thirty minutes. I've looped the outside camera feeds, so the rest of the team will be undetected when they approach their positions around the property."
"Good," I muttered. "What about communications between the guards on the outside perimeters?"
"Scrambled. Their radios will sound like white noise if they try to coordinate once we start, but you'll still have fifteen heavily armed men inside guarding Hector, so don't go thinking you're untouchable."
Jacob leaned toward the phone. "We only need a clear path in and out. Once we're inside, masked up, invites ready, we may be able to bid on the girls and take them without blowing off one single shot."
"That would be the best way to go, but it all depends on whether they want to unmask the both of you, and if they will release the girl's right away."
Zach cleared his throat.
"You'll have CIA support on standby. Twenty operators spread across the hills and treeline.
We couldn't get thirty operatives for this assignment.
If all hell breaks loose, they'll rush in from their positions, but don't count on them until you've secured the girls.
Their orders are to take down Hector's entire operation, not to babysit two girls. "
"I don't need babysitters," I growled.
"No shit," Zach said dryly. "Just don't let your hard-on for revenge get Kitlyn, or all of you killed."
I clenched my jaw, staring at my reflection again. Kitlyn's face flashed through my mind. I pictured green eyes wide with fear, bruised and marked by that bastard's hands. This wasn't just revenge; it was justice as well.
Jacob broke in on the conversation.
"It's time. Party starts in an hour."
We gathered our gear: pistols with suppressors, knives strapped inside our jackets and earpieces wired discreetly in our ears. Jacob tossed me the invitation cards we'd stolen yesterday. The names of the two corpses we'd left behind would be used as shields tonight.
We left the hotel through the back, slipping into the SUV parked in the alley behind the establishment. Our CIA contact, Agent Turner, was waiting by the vehicle. He has been flown in right on time. His suit was black, easily blending him into the background without being seen.
"Now that we're on their side and we want to shut down Hector's operation, you've got clearance from the Mexican government," Turner said, handing Jacob a folded document.
"Airspace, land movement, the whole deal.
We'll hold the perimeter until you've got the girls.
Once they're secure, we'll storm Hector's compound with help from the Mexican police. "
I nodded. "Fine by me, but Hector is mine to do with as I please. We had a deal."
Turner studied me for a long moment. "Atlas, I don't give a shit what happens to Hector. He's all yours. Just make sure you don't walk in there blind with rage. Keep your head, or you'll lose everything."
I stepped in close, my voice razor sharp. "I don't lose."
Jacob and I climbed into the SUV, giving Turner a curt nod. Jacob's voice boomed through the truck.
"We'll signal when it's time. Keep your earbuds in."
As we drove through the streets of Mexico City, the masks rested on the seat between us. Mine was black and gold, with sharp angles cut into the shape of a demon's face. Fitting for the event. We drove for about forty-five minutes before the compound's distant lights glowed on the horizon.
Jacob glanced at me. "Are you ready?"
I pulled the mask over my face; the world narrowing through the dark slits of the eyes. My pulse slowed; my breathing remained steady. The storm inside me quieted into focus. "Ready," I said, my voice tinged with finality.
As the SUV rolled toward Hector's gates with every man in place, every weapon loaded, I knew tonight would most likely end in bloodshed.
We would try to bid on the girls, but if that idea went south, or we had an opportunity to take Hector, we would spray the place with an arsenal of bullets and bring down the cartel's empire.
No matter what happens tonight, I was leaving with my Kitten and her friend. There would be no other ending.
Suddenly, it felt like I couldn't get any air through the opening in the mask's mouth. I pulled it from my face and set it in my lap. I was amped up; my nerves glowed with fire. My queen was so close I could almost smell her.
That woman owned every part of my being, and I was fucking eager to get her out of this shithole.
I took a few breaths to calm down. I had to stay focused, or it could mean the end of all of us.
Our vehicle continued on the road toward the compound, its headlights beaming through the dark Mexican countryside.
The closer we got, the tighter the air felt.
It was as if the whole night was holding its breath.
Jacob tapped the steering wheel, calm as ever while the evil mask sat in my lap, heavy and waiting. I glanced at his wolf mask sitting on the seat between us. It looked as if it were sneering at me.
"You look like hell," Jacob muttered, his eyes glancing back and forth between me and the road.
"I feel like hell," I said, pulling my tie tighter. "But at least I'll be the best-dressed bastard at the party."
Jacob snorted.
"You? In a mask and a tux? I've seen better looks on a corpse."
I cracked a grin despite myself. "Says the guy whose face will look like a goddamn dog in heat in about five minutes."
He smirked, flicking his eyes toward me. "Better than looking like Satan's boy toy prom date." For a second, the tension broke. We laughed for just a minute, but it was enough. That's how we'd always survived throughout our career as partners—jokes in the face of death.
Jacob knew what he was doing. If he let me stew in silence too long, my thoughts would spiral straight back to Kitlyn's screams, and he couldn't risk me unraveling before we even reached the gate.
The truth is, I wasn't unraveling. Not tonight.
I was wired, alive in a way I hadn't felt since the day she was taken from me.
Every minute brought me closer to getting my Kitten back, and that thought lit me up from the inside. The road curved, and the glow of Hector's place appeared before our eyes. There were floodlights illuminating the high stone walls, with guards posted like statues at the gate.
Beyond it, the mansion sat, a palace of corruption and misery, dressed in wealth. The sound of music drifted faintly even from where we were. Still not near the entrance yet, but so close. Jacob slowed as we approached the checkpoint.
"Moment of truth," Jacob said under his breath as he pulled his mask over his face. "Let's hope Vargas and Salazar were important enough to skip the pat-down."
My reflection in the side mirror looked inhuman, predatory….perfect for blending in this evening. The guard stepped forward, his flashlight blinding us across the windshield.
He barked in Spanish, demanding identification.
Jacob handed over the gold-etched invitations.
The guard's eyes moved between the cards and our faces, or what he could see behind the masks.
Another second, and I thought we'd have to kill our way in right here at the fucking gate; but then he grunted, nodded and waved us through.
As we rolled past, my pulse hammered. This was it. We were finally here! As good as we were at our jobs, that shit was nerve-wracking because it involved Kit.
Jacob leaned back, exhaling through his nose.
"Well, shit. Guess we clean up nice."
I smirked under my mask, the weight of my fury and anticipation burning hotter with every second.
"Guess so, now let's go get my fucking queen."
We continued driving into the lion's den.
Tonight, this party would be Hector's last.