“What do we know, Eduardo?” I ask him.
He’s silent for a moment, then clears his throat. “His name is Lucien and he was at war with the Reapers. It’s why he took Amara.”
The fuck? “Are you seriously telling me that the reason Juan is dead is because . . . there was a war between the Reapers and this man, and he merely got caught in the crossfire?” I spit out in fury.
This has nothing to do with us and yet my family was determined to get involved. I don’t have any problem aiding our allies when the time comes, but what is the point of endangering our lives like this? “No, he died obtaining information on her whereabouts. He died while on a mission to get this girl from the hell she’s endured. That is, if she’s even alive! How dare you act like a spoiled rich brat. We only have one goal, and that’s to get Amara back in one piece. We have reason to believe she’s still alive, so we will do what we must to bring her back to safety.”
I didn’t realize how I sounded at first. I don’t mind helping someone who needs it, but I believe there’s a certain level of risk we have to levy in every decision. “We’re almost here, boss.” Eduardo’s driver tells him.
“Perfect. Pull over. We’re going in slow and steady, alright? We have no idea if this man has traps set up, so keep your eyes out. Rico, stay in the car. I’ll call you when it’s clear to come up to the house. Now, who has the information on the property?” Eduardo asks.
A man sitting behind me hands his phone to me. It looks like it’s a state blueprint of the property and structures. “It appears to be a small two-bedroom house with a shed in the back, about forty meters from the house.” I state, handing the phone up to my cousin. While I had glanced at the blueprint, I noted the three entrances on the house and one entrance into the shed.
Deciding I won’t sit around here and wait much longer, I exit the vehicle and start approaching the property. We parked on the west side, coming in from the side of the house. Eduardo and his men come up behind me. He motions for me to head into the house and I nod back to him, motioning with my own hands for two of his men to split off with me while the rest go with him.
The tension is thick, as is the importance of capturing this man alive. I won’t let him go easily. I won’t shoot him and ease his suffering. No. This Lucien will be made to feel more pain than Juan ever felt.
We make our way slowly up to the house. “Go around to the other entrances. There’s one in the front, and another on the opposite side.” I whisper to the two men who are quick to act and head off to where I order them.
Placing my hand on the knob, I turn it slowly and push. Surprisingly, it’s unlocked and it doesn’t make a sound. My steps are precise and quiet, looking around the house for this man.
Not one thing looks unordinary in this house. It looks just like any home in the state would. You can tell the home is well lived in. I continue on my path and turn out of this small kitchen mudroom combination and the second I turn down the hallway I spot a man in a rocking chair.
“I should’ve figured someone would find me.” He snickers, rising from his seat. “Silly me for assuming I outsmarted you.”
“Get on the ground,” I state, pointing my gun straight at him.
“Tsk, I don’t think so.” He waves his finger in the air like I’m a naughty child. Lucien moves quickly and fires a shot behind me. I quickly take cover behind the opposite wall and find one of Eduardo’s men on the ground, bleeding from a head wound. “Fuck!” I curse under my breath.
Eduardo’s other man runs past me, heads down the hallway and three shots are fired. Shit, this isn’t good.
I aim my gun in Lucien’s direction and step back into the hallway. Eduardo’s man is down on the ground, bleeding from his stomach. Meanwhile, Lucien is on the ground bleeding as well. He pops his chamber open and slams it shut.
“One more bullet,” He laughs manically.
Slowly, he pulls his gun up and aims at me. He starts to pull back the trigger when he swiftly flips it back and pulls the trigger. It all happens so fast I can’t even run to pull the gun from his hands in enough time.
I stare down at a man with a hole where his eye once was. Shocked at what just transpired. Steps rush into the house and I aim my gun, just in case he has some sort of friend here with him. Thankfully, it’s only Esteban, one of Eduardo’s men. “He shot himself,” I explain when his eyes land on Lucien.
“Sick bastard. Fuck, we need to get him to the hospital.” Esteban says in regard to his other man on the floor, who’s barely holding onto life.
I shake my head, “No. Even one of our docs can’t fix him up, look at the blood. It’s nicked his intestines, and if the bullet doesn’t kill him . . . the infection will.” I’ve seen far too many of our men take gunshot wounds to the stomach. The same thing happens every time. They sever through the intestines, causing many holes. Feces seep into their body cavity and an infection develops that slowly kills them over the course of many days.
“I will handle this. You go to your cousin. We
