Chapter Nineteen #2
After two hours, Corver yells, “Found her!” Flipping the screen, the map zooms to a strip of brown warehouses on the east side. “Old industrial lot. One big derelict shed. Looks like the description of where Natasha was rumored to be held.”
Adrenaline hits like a second heartbeat. The room gets quieter; the panic crystallizes into a shape we can answer.
“We go tonight?” Josh asks. He’s ragged and ready. It’s about four in the afternoon right now, so we have a few hours until dark. So now we need to lock in a solid plan.
I run my hand over the map until the lines blur. Kill the chatter, make a plan that doesn't put her in more danger. But we’re not kids throwing stones. We do this once, and we do it right.
“Corver, get more eyes on the building. Gunnar, call in anything you need to get now, prep staging. Josh, be ready to move with me to the front. Sam, you’re with the exit team.
Arnie stays on standby in Tacoma in case we need a diversion.
” I keep it plain because plain is what people can hold to.
Stefan, are you men ready to move with us?
“Aye,” is all he responds with, and then everyone begins to move, preparing for what’s to come in four short hours.
Corver nods, fingers moving. Gunnar’s face is a hard line before he’s back on the phone, already double-checking routes.
We have a small window before dark. We shouldn’t rush without cover, but waiting is a different kind of danger. I hate that we’re counting hours and not bodies. The plan is simple: approach under dark, hit the power to blind their cameras, move quick, get Surry and any others. No heroics. Go home.
We push our gear into waiting sedans and stack like animals ready to spring.
And then my phone vibrates on the table. I see the name light up, and for a second, hope blasts through me like a flare.
Surry.
My hand goes for it before reason can tell me not to. The room leans in. I swipe answer and put it on speaker so everyone can hear.
“This is Brenden,” is how I answer, since I am positive it isn’t going to be Surry.
“You know, I could have called from my phone, but I was hoping that the sight of my sweet wife’s name on your phone would give you some hope.
Which, if I’m being honest, you shouldn’t have.
I forgot how great her pussy is. You failed to mention that when we spoke earlier.
But these tattoos, they need to go. Which ones do you think I should burn off first? ”
Gavin. Fuck this guy.
“Yes, I do know since I’ve been buried in it for the last few months.
And if you even think about touching one of her goddam tattoos I’ll drive my boot so far up your ass you will be able to tie the laces with your teeth.
” I look to Stefan with an apologetic look on my face, but he just waves me away.
He knows I’m trying to ruffle Gavin’s feathers.
“Ah, yes. About that, I see she is not with child. Are you incapable of creating heirs, Brenden Slater?” Apparently, he has no idea that Surry cannot have kids. What a smart girl not saying anything. That is the best way to get her killed if he thinks she is useless to him.
“No, I’m not. But I also don’t do anything to Surry that is against her will. And children would be against her will. You and I are not the same, Gavin. Don’t try to relate to me. Or upset me. I know how the rest of your life will pan out. I’m not worried about it.”
“Speaking of which, where is my child. I assume Stefan is with you. Do they have my child? He has to be what, ten now? Eleven?” What the actual fuck, this guy thinks she had his kid from back then?
“All I know, is that I won’t be telling you shit, sweet cheeks.” I am hoping to make him do something dumb. Make a mistake.
Almost instantly I hear a slapping sound and regret my words, and then Surry lets out a yelp. I set the phone down on the table and walk away from it, punching every chair on my way to the wall and back again.
“My handprint looks so excellent on the milky white skin of her ass. Don’t you love that as well?” Then I hear the unmistakable sound of a zipper.
I look at Gunner and mouth the words, we can’t wait, at him. He shakes his head and closes his eyes before turning to Corver who is already hopping onto his laptop without a word.
“Would you like to stay on the phone with me as I fill her with my seed, or would you like me to save you the embarrassment of fulfilling her needs and hang up first?”
“Let me talk to her. Now.”
“Ah ah ah, now Brenden. Don’t get any ideas. You can’t save her. You don’t even know where she is.” I’m about to say that yes, I do in fact know where she is, but both Josh and Stefan grab my arms and squeeze, reminding me of the end goal.
“You’re right, Gavin. I can’t. So can you at least let me say goodbye?”
“Now that is not what I expected. You hear that, Surry darling? He is giving you up. He would like to speak with you.”
“He-hello,” I hear the most beautiful voice on the other end of the phone. I want to assure her that I am coming, but I don’t know what to say without giving away our plans.
“Hey Siren, do you remember the first night we spent together?”
“Yes-” she answers, her voice trembling.
“Did you hear me say that I wish I could bottle your scent to always have it with me?”
“...Yes?” She sounds confused. Fuck, this isn’t working.
“I want you to know that I will forever smell your scent on my pillow. Do you understand?”
There is a long pause with no sound except for that of a slapping sort of noise. I don’t want to know what it is. I will pay for her therapy for the rest of my life as long as she lives through this.
“I think so.” Is all she finally answers me.
“Okay Siren, I love you. Give the phone back now.”
“Now, Brenden,” is how Gavin begins. “Would you like to stay on the phone, or would you like me to send you a video. I am happy to do either.”
“No thanks. I will catch up with you later though, alright?” I end the conversation as if I was signing off with an old friend, hanging up before he can say another word.
The call ends, and for a moment, the whole room is silent, the kind of silence that hums.
My hand is still tight around the phone. Everyone’s looking at me, waiting for the cue I can’t give fast enough.
The air feels like it’s thick with electricity, every breath too hot, too shallow.
Corver’s voice breaks it. “Arnie’s in position. He says he can kill the power in three minutes.”
Three minutes. That’s nothing. That’s everything.
“Tell him to do it,” I say, my voice low, but it cuts through the room like a blade.
Josh grabs his gear. Gunnar’s already moving toward the door. Stefan checks his weapon with a calmness that makes me wonder if anything ever rattles him. Me? I’m already halfway gone in my head. The distance between me and Surry is a living thing now, clawing at my insides.
Corver’s laptop screen glows, reflecting off his glasses he placed on his nose a while ago, as numbers flicker down. “Two minutes,” he says.
I pace the narrow space between the map table and the door. Every sound feels amplified; the scrape of Velcro, the metallic snap of magazines locking into place, boots on concrete. It’s the rhythm of preparation, and it’s the only thing keeping me from losing my damn mind.
“Thirty seconds,” Corver murmurs. He doesn’t look up.
The industrial block holding the target warehouse goes black, one floor at a time. The hum of power dies, replaced by a sudden, living quiet, the kind that carries danger.
“That’s our cue,” Gunnar says, voice a growl.
“Move!” I bark, and the room explodes into motion.
Doors slam open. Engines turn over, muffled under black tarps and night. Stefan’s convoy splits, two SUVs heading west, one south. Corver stays behind, headset on, eyes darting across camera feeds as the power cuts ripple through the grid. We leave him the final sedan in case he needs to move.
We’re flying through city streets before I even realize my hands are shaking. The headlights are off once we are two blocks away. The city feels hollow. Just our tires, the wet slap of rain that started forty-five minutes ago, and the faint echo of distant sirens.
“Two minutes out,” Josh says from the passenger seat.
“Stay low,” I reply. “We breach fast, clear faster.”
When the warehouse comes into view, it looks like a carcass against the skyline–brown, broken, ribs of rusted metal and shattered glass. I can feel the tension rolling through the car, sharp and electric. Stefan’s men are already fanning out through the shadows, ghostlike in their gear.
Corver’s voice crackles through the comms. “Snipers down. You’re clear for entry.”
That’s all I need.
“Go.”
We hit the doors like a thunderclap. Boots, voices, the deafening crash of impact and the echo of gunfire that follows.
And then it’s chaos.
Shouting. Smoke. Flashlights cutting through dust and debris. The air feels too tight to breathe. Every step forward is instinct, not thought. A prayer turned into motion.
I can’t see her. Not yet. But she’s here.
I know it.