The Revenge by Tijan

ONE

Kash


There was someone in my apartment.

I didn’t know this because of some sixth sense. I knew this because I’d received ten different alerts. The guy tripped the back perimeter alarm with the first door he opened. That was the first one sent to my phone. Second alarm was the security team picking him up on the video feeds. Third alarm was when the intruder got into the building. Fourth alarm, when they went up the back exit stairs. Fifth alarm, when they got to the sixteenth floor. Sixth alarm, when they went through the door to my floor.

Seventh alarm, when they got through my front door.

The eighth went off when he stepped inside the apartment door.

I checked my phone once it buzzed again.

That was the ninth alarm, and they were in the back bedroom.

Tenth alarm, they were in the walk-in closet.

“You sure about this?” Josh, a security guard who was fast becoming my right-hand man, asked. He was somewhat replacing Erik, who asked for a leave of absence because of his own family.

I didn’t say a word, but I looked up to the back camera and saw the green light was on. He was watching, and I mouthed up at him, “Shut. Up.”

He laughed in my ear. “Just reminding you that you do have an entire detail of guards back here, waiting on your command. They’ll rush in, immobilize the guy, and you can waltz in like fucking Batman.”

I rolled my eyes.

Josh was on a kick about the caped crusader, and it never made sense to me. My phone went off again.

“We have eyes on him,” he said. All cameras were turned on if there was a breach in security. He continued, his tone cold and professional now, “He’s moving to the bedroom door. He’ll be there in three, two…”

I turned.

“One.”

The living room light was off.

The bedroom door they were approaching was just beyond it. Bailey preferred a smaller, cozier layout in our apartment. I had downgraded with her in mind after her second kidnapping attempt. All the doors and rooms made her uneasy, and sometimes less was easier to handle, so we went down to a two-bedroom place. Our bedroom and an office were on the other side of the kitchen.

My phone buzzed again. “He’s opening the door.”

I could hear it in real time, but I didn’t look.

If they’d had a weapon, I wouldn’t have allowed them access to the building. They would’ve been captured after the first perimeter was broken. But security had done a scan and nothing was on them. All they had were their phones and a set of keys. We couldn’t be sure if the intruder was male or female at this point, but we did know they didn’t have a wallet—thank you, full-body sensors installed on each set of doors.

I left my phone, wallet, keys, everything in my pocket.

With my head down, I walked through the living room and went right at them.

“They eased back. They’re behind the bedroom door,” Josh said in my ear.

I went in.

A normal person would be worked up.

I knew they were there. I knew where they were. I knew as much about them as I could.

What I did not know was why they were there.

I did not know their intentions after making their presence known.

I did not know if they were going to attack me or jump out and yell “Surprise!” I doubted it was the latter.

What they did not know was that I knew they were there.

So going through that door, I was the one with the element of surprise.

While I appeared calm and my heartbeat said I was, I was not calm.

I was the opposite of fucking calm.

I cleared the door, and Josh’s voice sounded. “Now!”

I whirled.

They were lunging for me. I could finally see them; the intruder was male. A weapon flashed in his hands, a weapon that had not been flagged by the full-body scanners.

He didn’t come from behind me.

He was right in front, and my hands were up.

I reached for him first, using my elbow to slam the weapon out of his hand. As his eyes met mine, they went wide, and I body-slammed him down to the floor.

I could not let up.

Not for one second.

I went down with him, knees to his chest, but he was twisting, trying to get free.

I let him go, but as he started to stand up, I tackled him again. A full body slam any lineman would be proud of, and I flipped him around so he was facedown. My arm went around his neck. My whole body went on top of him, securing the chokehold.

He couldn’t move.

But he tried. He fought. He tried to twist. He tried to throw me off. He tried to find a weakness. He tried to knock out my legs.

I never gave an inch. I only tightened my hold.

And then, as blood rushed through my body, my eardrums feeling as though they were about to pop, my vision blurring at the edges, his entire body jerked, strained, squeezed, and then he began to go limp.

I still waited.

There was always a lull, a time when they tried to pretend they were unconscious. I didn’t fall for it, and this time it proved true, because he came alive suddenly. He thrashed harder, more violently, rougher, and with a choking, gurgling sound, he went limp for the final time.

I released him, seeing the door opening from the corner of my eye.

Josh walked in, his weapon drawn. A line of men trailed behind him, and all came to stand in a circle as I got to my feet. It was only then that I kicked his body over and got a good look at him.