Until Death Do Us Part by Adelaide Forrest

8

Rafael

Gabriel sat at the computer in the van, typing away at the screen as Mariano’s men pulled up at the curb. The blueprints of the Brighton Beach house were illuminated on his screen, and windows and doors with sensors highlighted.

“Is there any activity inside?” I asked, and he toggled the screen over to the security cameras he’d hacked into remotely. Flipping through the various feeds, he continued until he found the one of Viktor sleeping soundly in his bed— completely unaware of what was coming his way and content in the safety of his beachside mansion.

“Just the standard guards, but they’re sloppy at best if they’re awake. I haven’t seen a patrol do a sweep since we left New York.”

“What’s our best access point?” one of the men in the back of the van with us asked. He’d immediately taken control of his men, serving as the contact point for me while we worked together in unfamiliar territory. It was less than ideal to have men that weren’t mine, and I couldn’t fully trust them, but they were far more suitable than taking a team of men who were exhausted or injured after the attack in Chicago.

“Beachside,” Gabriel said, and the screen zoomed into the back of the house. The property was open to the private beach, only a team of two guards standing near the back patio and chatting to stand in the way of our silent infiltration.

If everything went according to plan, Viktor wouldn’t wake up until I loomed over him in his bed. “Right,” Mariano’s man said, turning away to speak into the communication system he wore on his black clothing. In a neighborhood like this, filled with a mix of wealthy civilians and Russian allies to Pavel, the best we could hope for would be a quiet and efficient sweep.

I wanted nothing more than to get home to my grieving wife as soon as possible.

Mariano’s men filed out of the van, and the night air was silent as the rest of them did the same from the other vehicles. They moved like they were part of the night, the impeccable training they’d been through an echo of my own.

Our lives were anything but simple, and they were far from peaceful.

We were born in blood and forged through pain, until all that remained was a mindless killing machine that thought nothing of snuffing out life repeatedly.

“You’ve got the alarms?” I asked, watching as the men checked their gear. They waited for me to step out of the van, taking their signals from me when it all came down to the time to strike.

“I jammed the systems with white noise, but they had countermeasures in place. I’m hacking the system to override them now,” Gabriel announced, typing onto the screen filled with gibberish I would never hope to understand.

“How long?” I asked.

“Five minutes, tops,” he said. I moved out of the vehicle, stepping into the night with Mariano’s men. They were nameless faces to me, nothing more than soldiers to help me achieve the means to my end, but the network of alliances I’d worked to build already proved itself useful.

No matter where we were in the world, my men and I had friends nearby who could help in the event we needed it. All that was left was to dispose of our enemies one by one.

“Let’s go,” I said, having full faith in Gabriel’s ability to complete the override by the time we were in position. He’d never met a problem he couldn’t solve. Never met a computer or system he couldn’t own.

We moved through the night silently, leaving Gabriel to do his job as we went through a yard down the street where the security system was practically nonexistent. Sand covered my boots, and even though I’d spent the entirety of my life surrounded by it, I couldn’t help but think of the days I’d watched Isa step through the sand as if it was the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen.

We crept up to the fence separating Viktor’s house from his next door neighbor’s, staying out of sight until the signal from Gabriel. It spoke to his punctuality that we only had to wait less than a minute before his disinterested voice came over the communication system. “All clear.”

Mariano’s man signaled his people into position, and we moved like a trained unit. They surrounded me as they’d been taught, protecting the man occupying the position Mariano would usually claim for himself, but he and Luca had remained home. They lent their support through their men, but this wasn’t their fight.

It was mine alone.

We moved in through the sides, overtaking the two guards outside with a knife to the throat before they could communicate with the others. Dragging their bodies into the bushes, I watched as Mariano’s men did what they could to hide the evidence of our insurgence.

With a last check for me, that I nodded in confirmation to, the lead pulled the sliding glass doors open and stepped inside before signaling his men forward with two fingers.

They moved in groups, and the unit that followed me headed for the stairs to make our way to the master bedroom where Viktor slumbered. We met little resistance until we crested the top of the staircase, the sound of a single shot ringing through the silent night.

I both cursed the interruption to Viktor’s sleep and welcomed it, knowing that I greatly preferred it when my victims were able to fight back. It would make for a much more entertaining evening, but a longer one that meant Isa was without me for longer than I wanted.

The men took him down quickly, and we moved beyond with single-minded focus on getting to Viktor before he could try to escape through whatever plan he had in place for emergencies.

The bedroom door was closed as we approached, waiting to listen for sound on the other side. There was nothing but silence, the mark of something that was too quiet to be true after the errant gunshot had taken away our element of surprise. I raised my foot, kicking the door open so hard that the latch cracked beneath the pressure. The man hiding behind it grunted as I moved into the space, raising his gun as he forced his body around the door that had likely broken his nose.

I grabbed the barrel with my left hand, pushing the gun away quickly and removing my head from the centerline so that when he pulled that trigger, I wouldn’t be in danger of being shot again. As much as I loved having Isa fuss over me, that was the last thing she needed right then.

The shot cracked off, shattering the window on the other side of the room. My right hand crashed into the inside of his wrist, bending it until I wrenched the gun out of his grip and delivered a downward kick to the top of his knee. He crumpled to the floor as I leveled him in the sights of his own pistol, his face grimacing as he stared up at me.

Raising his hands as if he was an innocent bystander and not the man I’d come to slaughter, he smiled to pacify me. “Is she dead yet?” I asked, the uncaring tone of my voice sounding inhuman even to my own ears. Part of me wished I cared for Isa’s sake—the same part of me that wished my wife didn’t have a terrible sister who made it impossible to tolerate her existence.

“I can tell you where she is,” he said instead of answering. I resisted the urge to hang him from the ceiling upside down and carve into his stomach. Only the desire to get home to Isa kept me from ripping out his entrails and watching him bleed out. I pulled my bowie knife from the sheath attached to my pants, shoving his gun into the back of my waistband.

Tilting my head to the side as I stared at him, I didn’t stop the cruel smile from claiming my face. “For that information to be valuable, I would have to care,” I said, grabbing a fistful of his hair and wrenching his head back to reveal his vulnerable throat. He raised his hands to scrabble at my arm, raking his nails down the fabric of my shirt in a desperate bid to free himself as his horror mounted and he started to realize that he had nothing of value to offer me. “I don’t.”

“She’s in Colombia!” he yelled, clinging to the last possibility that he could sway my decision.

He didn’t.

I slashed my blade across his throat, cutting through sinew and flesh deeper than necessary in a sudden bid of inspiration from his reveal of Odina’s location.

Even though I didn’t care to save her and had absolutely no intention of wasting my men’s lives on the pathetic waste of space that she’d become, nothing sent a message better than the head of my enemy.

Especially when that head wore a Colombian necktie.

His eyes went glazed as I finished the cut, and he was sadly already gone by the time I plunged my hand into the wound and gripped his tongue harshly. Pulling it back through the hole, I released it to lay against the bottom of his throat and drape there perfectly.

One of Mariano’s men chuckled, confirming that I’d chosen a team who was just as fucked up as I was. Wiping the blood on his shirt and sheathing my blade, I turned for the door.

My wife was waiting.