Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
NIGHTMARE
Maverick steps back from Tony’s body and drags a hand over his face. “I’ll call Dementor,” he mutters, already reaching for his phone. “He’ll clean this mess up before sunrise.”
I’m still staring at Tony’s slack face, blood pooled around the chair legs. Londyn did that. And now she’s… what? Shattered? Regretful? I have no clue. I can’t tell anymore.
Walking a few steps away, Mav’s voice is low as he talks to the cleaner. “Yeah. Need you at the warehouse. Now. Bring the burn kit.”
I barely hear him. My head is still focused on Lolo’s cold eyes, Tony’s last breath, the blade in her hand. Everything in me feels wired and on edge. It was unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I’m so wrapped up in my thoughts that I didn’t notice that she slipped away.
Then I hear it.
A motorcycle engine roaring to life outside.
My stomach drops.
Maverick freezes mid-sentence. “D, hold on.” He lowers the phone. “Night… that your bike?”
I’m already moving, shoving open the warehouse door so hard, it bangs off the wall.
The space off to the side where I parked my bike is empty… except for fresh tire marks and the fading growl of my damn Harley headed down the street.
“Fuck, Night. She took your ride,” Turbo mutters behind me.
“She’s going after Herrera,” I say, chest tightening. “She’s not in her right mind.”
Mav comes up beside me, jaw tight. “Then we move. Now. Before Herrera’s men find her first.”
We mount up fast. The brothers roll out on bikes, engines roaring like a war cry.
“You’re with Turbo. You can barely stand, much less control a bike,” he says, clapping me on the shoulder.
He’s right, and I hate it. The beating I gave that piece of shit rotting in the chair took a toll on me.
Climbing into the passenger seat, I slam the door as Turbo fires up the engine. “Punch it,” I snap.
And he does.
We tear through the streets, the downtown Atlanta skyline a blur as we make our way deep into the SWATS.
My knee bounces nonstop, nerves shot. All I can think about is Lolo walking into a firefight alone.
Herrera will have guards. Guns. Men who don’t hesitate.
In her state of mind, she doesn’t give a fuck.
She’s walking in with that empty look in her eyes, and she’s out for blood.
Turbo glances at me. “She’s tough, brother.”
“She’s reckless right now,” I fire back. “She just killed a man, and she’s not thinking straight.”
He doesn’t argue. Everyone of us saw the transition in her, and none of us dared stop her.
We hit Jonesboro Road in under ten minutes. The warehouse Herrera uses for drops comes into view…big, dark, with no lights on the outside.
Turbo kills the engine a block away, and we move in on foot.
Scanning the immediate area, I spot her crouched low beneath a cracked window, shoulders tense, body coiled. She’s got her gun drawn, steady in her hand. Her hair’s falling into her face, and she doesn’t even try to push it back. She looks like someone with nothing left to lose.
My heart damn near stops.
“Lolo,” I hiss, moving toward her.
She doesn’t turn. Doesn’t look at me. “Stay low,” she mutters, eyes fixed inside the warehouse. “Two guards inside. One walking patrol. Herrera should be upstairs.”
“Should be,” I repeat. “You planning on checking that out alone?”
Her jaw moves. “I’m not here for a conversation.”
“No,” I say, crouching beside her. “You’re here to die if you keep this shit up.”
Her eyes flick toward me, just for a second, but I see the exhaustion, the fury, and the grief boiling under her skin.
“I don’t care if I die,” she says quietly. “As long as I get to him first.”
That hits me harder than any punch I’ve ever taken.
Mav and the others fan out behind us, keeping low, checking angles. He steps close enough for her to hear but not enough to crowd her.
“Londyn,” he says calmly, “you want Herrera? Fine. We’ll get you Herrera. But you don’t walk in there alone.”
Her voice is flat. “I don’t need backup.”
I grab her wrist. “Yeah, you do. You’re good, but you’re not invincible.”
She yanks her hand free. “He murdered my family. Tony admitted it. Herrera gave the order. I’m not waiting. I’m not negotiating. I’m not dragging this through courts. I’m ending it.”
Mav nods slowly. “And you will. “You brought us into this. We’re just making sure you live long enough to pull the trigger.”
She exhales, sharp, and frustrated, but not dismissive. She’s, at the very least, listening and understanding that she’s not in this alone.
Turbo crouches on her other side. “You go in alone, you get dropped fast. If they see a badge, they’ll unload without mercy.”
“I’m not flashing a fucking badge,” she says. “That badge don’t mean shit to me now.”
“Noted,” Turbo clips.
“You can hate me all you want after this. You can walk away from all of us. But you’re not dying tonight. Not in this place, and not by that man’s hands,” I say looking her dead in the eyes.
Her throat works like she’s swallowing glass, but she finally, gives me a nod.
Not an agreement, just acknowledgment.
It’s enough.
Mav signals the brothers. “We move on my mark.”
Lolo grips her gun tighter, eyes locked on the warehouse door, ready to pounce.
Herrera’s inside, and she’s about to walk through hell to get to him… with me right by her side.
If I can’t stop her from going to war… I’ll damn sure take the bullets meant for her.
Mav raises two fingers, signaling the brothers to fan out. Guns up. Eyes sharp. Everyone’s silent except the crunch of gravel under their boots.
Lolo stays beside me, posture low, and controlled. Focused in a way that makes my chest tight. She isn’t shaking, she isn’t scared, she’s hunting.
Mav reaches the main door, gives it a quick check, then looks back. “On three.”
I nod.
Turbo nods.
Lolo doesn’t even breathe.
“One… two…”
He kicks the door in on three.
The metal screams open, slamming against the wall. Darkness swallows us for half a second before shadows start moving inside, and men start shouting.
“Go!” Maverick orders, rushing in.
Sweeping left, gun raised, Turbo takes the right.
It’s quiet. A little too quiet.
Then, Click. A sound from the corner.
“DOWN!” Londyn shouts, voice sharp.
A muzzle flash blooms in the shadows. One of Herrera’s men staggers out, his rifle clattering free as he drops face-first to the concrete, dead before he hits.
Mav jerks back in shock. “Holy shit!”
She saved his life, clean and fast.
I’m frozen for half a heartbeat, staring at her. The calm. The precision. The absolute fucking clarity in her aim.
Jesus. She’s a storm destroying anyone in her path.
No hesitation. No fear.
Just purpose.
But the moment breaks as a roar echoes from above.
Footsteps thunder on the metal, heavy, and fast.
“Stairs!” Turbo shouts.
Three men rush down the steps with rifles raised.
We fire in controlled bursts. Mav drops the first, Steel the second. The third dives behind a crate, firing wildly.
Londyn moves before any of us do, sliding low across the floor, popping up just long enough to put a round straight through the crate edge and into the guy’s skull.
He drops instantly.
“Clear the right!” I bark, adrenaline punching through me, while trying to keep eyes on her.
Steel and Turbo push through the hallway doors. Two more cartel soldiers jump out, guns blazing. The room shreds with gunfire. Turbo takes one out with a clean shot to the throat. Steel finishes the other.
But I’m not watching the fight.
I’m watching her.
Or I was.
Because just like at the other warehouse, she’s gone.
“Londyn!” I shout, whipping around the room. Nothing. Just bodies, dust, and shadows.
Mav fires a round into a man trying to get up, then looks at me. “Where the hell is she?”
“I… I had her…” My chest tightens. “She was right here.”
“Night, eyes UP,” Turbo snaps, nodding toward the stairs.
More running. More yelling. A door slams somewhere above.
“She went after Herrera,” Mav says, face going hard. “Dammit… she went alone.”
Sprinting toward the stairs, my heart pounds so loud it drowns out everything else.
Not again.
I’m not losing her in this place.
Not to this fucker.
Not after everything she’s already bled for.
“Londyn” I shout up the stairwell.
No answer.
Just the cold echo of her boots, fading deeper into the dark.
And God knows what’s waiting at the top.