Chapter 23
The Ball
Atlas
Kitlyn clung to me like she never wanted to let go, but time wasn't on our side. The ballroom roared just beyond the doors, and every second we lingered risked blowing the whole operation.
I wanted more than anything to comfort my queen, but that would have to come when we were finished with the rest of the scum on the compound.
"Kitten," I whispered, pulling back just enough to look into her tear-streaked face. "I need you to be my strong girl a little longer. Jacob and I still have work to do. You and Becca will be alright now."
She shook her head, panicked, her nails digging into my jacket. "Don't leave me with him!"
I cupped her jaw, forcing her eyes to mine. "He's not touching you again. Ever. He's finished, love. I just need to clean up the mess."
Jacob steadied Becca on her feet, his arm around her shoulders, her face buried in his chest. She was sobbing quietly; the sound muffled against his suit. He looked at me over her head and gave a quick nod, telling me it was time to move.
We dragged Hector's unconscious body into another adjoining room. His wrists and ankles were bound tight, his mouth gagged with his tie, and his mask was tossed aside in the other room. He groaned, half conscious, but he wouldn't be going anywhere.
I turned to Kitlyn and pulled a small blade from inside my jacket. Pressing it into her trembling hand, I whispered, "If he so much as twitches, put this to his throat. Don't hesitate."
I kissed her head before slipping the mask on again.
"You'll be out of harm's way here. Both of you."
We left, locking the door behind us, leaving Kit and Becca inside with Hector bound and helpless at their feet.
Jacob and I slipped back into the corridor.
I tapped the earpiece twice.
"Now."
The line crackled, and Zach's voice came through. "Copy. I see Hector's down and his two guards eliminated. The CIA team's moving in. Outer perimeter engagement starting in three….two…"
Through my buds, I heard muffled pops echoing through the trees, the outside guards dropping one by one.
The chaos would be quiet, controlled. Mine and Jacob's job was to clean the inside.
My partner was already moving, knife in hand.
We slipped through shadowed hallways, stalking the guards stationed in pairs at doors and stairwells.
One turned his head just as I stepped behind him.
Not quick enough.
My arm looped around his throat, silencer pressed against his skull, one quick squeeze and he was gone. His body slumped to the floor, dead before he knew what hit him.
Jacob gutted another one at the far end of the corridor, muffling his grunt with a steady hand as the blade tore in deep.
He eased the body down silently, blood pooling against the polished stone.
We moved methodically, room by room, cleaning house.
One by one, the guards were eliminated. The orchestra played on in the ballroom, masking the quiet death spreading through the compound.
On the second floor, we glimpsed someone from our past—Johnny boy. I didn't have time to worry about how and why he was there. He wasn't dressed like the rest of us. No mask, no tux. He looked lost, glass of whiskey in his hand, eyes wide as if he couldn't believe the surrounding massacre.
He turned the corner and froze when he saw Jacob standing over two fresh corpses.
He didn't know us, but we knew him.
His glass slipped from his hand, shattering on the floor.
"Wait," he whispered, voice shaking.
"I'm not part of this. I never wanted—"
I stepped out of the shadows, my silencer leveled at his forehead. His hands lifted in surrender, eyes pleading.
"Please…I wanted nothing to do with him, I swear. Even though he's my uncle, I had no part in this. I didn't even know he was into this crazy shit."
His uncle? I had no idea what the kid was talking about.
For a moment, I saw it….the truth in his face.
The kid wasn't built for this life; I believed that, but he bore Hector's blood, and leaving him alive meant leaving a thread to be pulled later.
He could rebuild the entire operation from the ground up, and that isn't a chance I wanted to take.
I pulled the trigger.
He dropped like a rag doll, his lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling. Jacob gave me a long look, but didn't speak. He knew as well as I did….loose ends got people killed.
His brow furrowed, eyes still pinned on me.
"We must have missed that information somewhere. The kid doesn't even look Mexican."
I shook my head. "I had no clue he was related either. What are the fucking odds?" I shrugged, not giving a shit. "Fuck him. Let's go," I said.
We stepped over John's body and kept moving. By the time we circled back toward the ballroom, the halls were silent. Fifteen men gone without a whisper. The CIA's muffled reports confirmed the outside was clear as well.
Inside the locked gentlemen's room, Kitlyn and Becca were waiting—safe, for the first time in a month, and Hector was tied up, powerless. The communication crackled as we checked the last hallway.
Zach's voice was steady and concise.
"Outer guards neutralized. Cottages secure. Repeat…cottages secure. Survivors coming out."
Through the open windows in the hallway, I could see and hear it…the chaos spreading outside. Shouts, muffled gunfire, boots pounding across the dirt as the men who once thought themselves untouchable, tried to run.
Some dropped their weapons and bolted into the trees, scrambling like rats from a sinking ship.
Others were cut down before they even made it twenty steps.
The whole ballroom was oblivious to the chaos spreading across the compound.
The orchestra masked every sound, an ideal cover to finish the job.
Jacob and I stood by the window, keeping a watchful eye on what was going on. And then came the voices.
High-pitched, terrified, dozens of them.
Girls spilled out of the cottages barefoot, clothed in rags….walking into the floodlights.
Mexicans, Americans, Asians, Eastern Europeans….Hector didn't care where they came from, as long as they could bring him a lot of money. What a scumbag. I had something special waiting for his ass once I got Kitten and Becca out.
"Medical inbound," a CIA voice said over the comms.
"We've got buses staged on the road. Police are clearing them through."
Jacob and I still paused by the window, watching as the first ambulance pulled up the driveway. All sirens were off.
We still had shit to do. Uniformed medics piled out at the gates, a good distance from the entrance of the mansion, rushing toward the girls who stumbled and sobbed as they were herded to safety.
Mexican Feds followed, rifles raised, pushing through the grounds surrounding the compound, corralling any of Hector's men who threw down their weapons.
The house was surrounded.
All the inside guards were dead, but one job was still mine. I turned to Jacob.
"The customers."
Jacob nodded. "Let's clean them out."
We moved back toward the ballroom, where the masquerade still raged, though cracks were showing. A few of the guests sensed something was wrong, especially when Hector and the guards didn't return. Their laughter was fake, their masked faces turning toward the doors.
I'd be damned if any of these bastards escaped. They had little time to wonder. Jacob and I split, weaving through the crowd like predators on the hunt.
My silencer went off once, twice…two masked men slumped over their champagne, lifeless before anyone noticed. Jacob dragged another one into the shadows, his blade sliding home between the ribs, blood soaking into the stone tile.
The orchestra screeched to a halt when a body hit the floor. A scream cut through the room, as sharp as glass, just as the agents stormed in, weapons raised, shouting commands in Spanish and English.
"Hands up! Everyone on the floor! NOW!"
Panic erupted. Some of the masked buyers lunged forward for weapons; they were dropped in seconds. Others raised their hands, faces pale as their disguises hit the floor. One tried to make a break for it through the side door. Jacob cut him down with a clean shot between the shoulders.
Mexican police poured in behind the CIA agents, gathering the survivors, tearing masks from the few who still wore them. Fat business executives, politicians, heirs with too much money and no soul. Every single one of them lay sprawled out across the room.
All cuffed, their power stripped from them in seconds.
The girls taken from the cottages to partake in the auction were pulled from the line on stage, wrapped in blankets and rushed toward the waiting medics outside.
Some collapsed into the arms of the female officers, sobbing…clutching on for dear life.
I scanned the anarchy, breathing hard behind my mask. This was it. The collapse of Hector's empire.
I tapped my ear, sending a message to Zach.
"Ballroom secure. Scumbag customers neutralized. Survivors are being moved."
"Copy," my brother said. His voice was tight, but I could hear the relief underneath it. "Time to get back to Kitlyn and Becca. Hector's waking up. Don't worry though; he can't break free. I have my eye on the camera."
"I'm on my way to her now. Thanks for all your help, Zach." A chuckle vibrated in my earpiece. "Of course. Anything for the brother who brought me up. Get going. I'll talk to you later."
And just like that, the mission shifted from bloody to something far more important….My Kitten. The fucking love of my life. The woman I will worship until the day I die.
I nodded toward Jacob. "Great job, partner. Let's get the girls the fuck out of here. Time to go back to my place."
I had a few guest houses on my property too. Hector would be my visitor until I decide to end him. It's time to reap what he sowed. Not only for my Kitten and Becca, but to all the women he subjected to such torture and misery. Oh, he's going to pay.