Page 43 of Rising from the Ashes

“Keep me updated on Lowery,” She looks at me. “Calista, be careful tonight.”

Rolling my eyes, I begin to turn around to walk toward the door as I hear Everly’s chair move, she is rounding the desk and by my side, facing me within seconds.

Grabbing my arm, she turns her head in my direction, whispering in a low voice, “Aw. C’mon, this is our bonding moment,” she smirks.

“Bonding?” I raise my eyebrows.

Her eyes darken, and an expression I have never seen briefly flashes across her face, “We were both betrayed by the ones we love. You think you are the only one whose father left her for dead?”

“Give him one chance to prove he deserves you,” she nods in Shado’s direction, “and this time, make sure he earns it.”

Everly had heard about Silas and my father’s betrayal, about how it caused me to spiral before I learned how to cope with my anger in more productive manners. Once I made my presence known again in the streets of Edinburgh, she had her men take me in, knowing I would be desperate for revenge. She must see something in Shado since she didn’t kill him when she found out his secret, or at the very least she is waiting for him to screw up so I will kill him.

***

“You know we could cover more ground if we split up,” I whisper over my shoulder.

Standing behind a large metal holding crate, I can feel Shado hovering behind me, his hot breath on my shoulders as we stake out the docks. The sky is black, and in the area where Everly said the shipment is coming in, the overhead streetlights conveniently aren’t working.

We arrived at Dock eighty-two just as a large cargo freighter with the word “Valor” painted in white letters had docked near the end of the pier. Multiple port cranes are transporting three large shipping containers onto the docks. I wince as they land on the ground with a thud, knowing what may potentially be housed in them.

Looking closer, I can see my father standing talking to the port loading master with ten heavily armed men standing around him.

He hired fucking mercenaries.

Just as four men begin descending the freighter’s ramp, holding the handles of large wooden crates, Shado pulls his glock from his holster and steps around me, blocking my view.

“What are you doing?” I whisper, tugging on his arm, aggravated that he defaults to using a gun as his weapon of choice.

Whipping his head back to me, he says, “We are severely outnumbered, Cal. I can lay out these men a lot faster with my Glock than I can a bow, and you know that. I need to get to those crates and simultaneously cover you while you get those women in the containers to safety.”

I hate when he’s right.

“You do not move until I give you the signal, understand?” He looks at me, and even with his mask on, I can see the sternness in his eyes.

“Yes, Daddy.” I scoff, pulling an arrow from my quiver, setting it in the drawstring. I know to stay prepared in instances like this in case anything goes sideways.

Shado’s shoulders drop and I can almost feel his smirk behind his mask. “Good girl.”

“That wasn’t me being…” I begin to argue as he cuts me off.

Hearing the click of his gun, I know it’s go time.

Crouching down, he runs across the shipyard to a holding container closer to the men. Rounding the corner, he begins to fire off shots as he approaches the two wooden crates. I can see the armed men drop to the ground before they even have a chance to fire off shots at him.

Almost as if Shado deliberately missed his opportunity to shoot down my father, I see Enzo running toward the shipping crates that I assume are housing the women.

Trying to catch him by surprise, I decide to run around the back of the shipping containers to the front. However, when I make it around to the latched doors, I notice my father is nowhere to be found. Cautiously turning my back, I aim my arrow at the steel deadbolt, praying that the eighty pounds of pressure flying behind this arrow will be enough to break the lock so I can free these women from their metal prison.

Closing my eyes, I release the arrow. Within seconds, I hear the clang of the lock fall to the cement. Pulling on the latch, the door of the crate creaks open. Before I can take in the view before me, a strong odor of copper and ammonia assault my nostrils. Peering into the crate, there are several women with shackles around their feet, sitting back to back against each other with their heads between their knees.

“Oh my God!” I begin to step into the crate as I hear gravel behind me crunching underneath slow footsteps.

Chills erupt on my arms despite my leather jacket as I whip around to come face to face with my father yet again.

“You just keep trying to fuck up my plans.” He slowly walks in my direction, shaking his head.

He pulls his gun from his pocket, cocking it and pointing it in my direction.

---