67. Vincent
Vincent
TONIGHT, I’M GOING TO WAR FOR HER. FOR MY QUEEN.
Ifinish locking down the last cabin, securing the steel panels with the touch of a button.
Everything is in place—fortified, reinforced. Ten years. We spent ten years preparing this off-the-grid haven, securing it for the rest of our lives. When all of us are wanted men, Protocol X was designed to protect and defend. Attack when we need.
Thanks to Seth’s construction genius, the barn’s secure, the cabins are locked, and the perimeter is near impenetrable. We’ve set enough landmines, tripwires, and other fun surprises to take down a fucking army.
We, ourselves, are a five-man army, deadly in our own separate ways.
I take a moment to breathe, hands still on the cold steel of the last panel.
Then, the explosion rocks the ground beneath me. My heart skips a beat. I feel the earth tremble, a vibration in my very bones, like something is caving in, shaking the whole damn place. It’s a half-mile off, maybe five hundred yards.
Landmine.
But then, through the chaos, I hear it—a savage, blood-curdling scream. Yeah. It’s not just any scream. It’s the kind that only comes when one of those bastards stumbles into the bear traps.
I’m already moving before the sound fades, my boots pounding the dirt as I sprint toward the trees.
Raphael made sure we knew every inch of this land, every tripwire, every placement of our mines.
I dodge one, then another, feeling the burn in my legs as I push faster, further.
Not the simplest when you’re as bulky as me.
Rory is the fastest runner out of us. Jude is very close, but Rory insisted on a damn race, and he won. But he’s only the short sprinter.
Jude can run for ten miles. In the rain. With his shirt off.
Briella can’t run.
Blocking the distraction from my mind, I draw my handgun, its cool weight and familiar comfort in my palm.
Seth’s got his axes. Rory’s got his blades.
Raphael has his arrows. Me? I prefer using my hands.
Doing the dirty work like I always do. But I always come prepared with a solid handgun.
Always have. Comes with a silencer, too.
Jude really went all out when smuggling military-grade weapons after we sprung him from the prison transport.
Fuck, I need to stop thinking about him. Thoughts of him lead me to Briella.
So, I think of her harder. Her heart. Her smart mouth. Her shield. My armor slides into place. The beast is ready for battle.
Tonight, I am a weapon. And a warrior. Her warrior.
I reach the clearing, and there he is—one of them, a piece of shit with his leg caught in the bear trap, writhing, his face twisted in pain. Ungodly sounds leave the weakling’s throat.
Doesn’t matter. I’m not wasting time. I close the distance in two quick strides, press the barrel of my gun to his head, and pull the trigger. Gloves are off now.
I hear more movement, figures stepping through the trees.
I smile to myself, slipping into the shadows, using the brush and the thick cover of the trees to my advantage.
I move like a shadow, mindful of my surroundings.
The ex-underground fighter in me kicks in, every motion fluid, instinctive. Silent.
My hands are ready.
The first bastard I come across, I snap his neck with one swift twist, his body crumpling without a sound.
The second, I take down with a quick bash to the skull, his head cracking against the trunk of a nearby tree.
No match for my steel skull. Another one—he doesn’t even see me coming before my fist drives into his throat, silencing him in an instant.
The last one, I leave no room for hesitation.
A swift jab with the barrel of my gun, and his skull meets the dirt with a sickening crunch.
I don’t pause. I don’t look back.
Tonight, I’m going to war for her. For my Queen.
I make my way to the other side of the perimeter, knowing Raphael is in full-blown hunting mode. Killing mode.
Smoke fills the air. Flames lick up the trunks of nearby trees from the landmines, casting a hellish glow through the forest. The smoke curls like serpents between the branches. I move with it, a shadow in the firelight.
As I approach, I shake my head with a laugh because Rory and Seth make a great pair. Rory wallops, the perfect diversion, drawing the attention of the invaders so Seth can swing his axe. They trade back and forth effortlessly like they’re synchronized.
Two figures emerge from the brush on my right flank. Guns raised. I fire off two rounds before they can so much as lift their guns.
I’m not the crack shot Jude is, but I’ve practiced enough.
But I don’t see the other coming until he’s nearly on top of me, pistol raised. I duck and swing my body around, landing a solid punch to his solar plexus. Bring him down, snap his neck.
An arrow sings past my cheek. I turn to see the man falling to his knees, the arrow buried in his skull.
“Vincent, with me,” Raphael says from somewhere ahead of me. Goddamn psycho. Can’t even see him. But I follow his footsteps.
“How many are there?” I whisper once I’m hunkered down next to him.
“Too many.”
Shit. Another landmine goes off. It buys us a little time to regroup with Seth and Rory. Not surprised blood covers Rory.
We move closer to the barn, keeping our voices down.
“Some were wearing fatigues,” Seth mentions.
“Whoever this is, he’s got military and police on his side,” I add.
“I know who it is.” Raphael brandishes a glare, one directed at me the most. “The Prophet is coming. He’s coming for her.”
God, I berate myself, blame myself.
“He must have tracked us somehow,” I refer to the doctor who was ogling Briella, who exposed her. Nathan Reddick.
“Yes, he did,” Raphael confirms.
“I checked everything.” The truck, the supplies, and even every goddamn branch for a possible GPS signal or phone.
“One place you did not.”
He’s darker than ever, like he’s absorbing the shadows.
“The cap, Vincent.”
Mother of God. I’m a fool. A goddamn fool. He ripped it from her head. He had it for a good few minutes. Plenty of time to plant a tracker. If it were small enough, she wouldn’t have even noticed when she put it back on.
This is my fault.
I’m the oldest. The goddamn oldest. The one time I needed to be the shield, the watcher aware of everything, I failed. And it could not be more damning.
“What’s next?” I ask, fearing the worst, tension invading every muscle.
Raphael centers his sharp gaze on each one of us. “I have the thumb drive now. We meet Jude and Briella in the mine. We take her. We retreat.”
My heart pitches in my chest. This is our home. The only home we’ve ever truly had. The home we brought our Queen to. The animals. It’s everything to us.
No, she is everything.
She is our home. She is all that matters.
So, I nod firmly because my word still carries weight as the oldest. “Yes. We run.”