Page 20 of Crimson Tears

The words taste like ash on my tongue as my heart burns in a way I never knew it was capable of. It’s almost worse than losing him because this time, I’m the one that just shoved the knife into his chest.

I hear a thump, but I refuse to look back. If he fell to his knees, I’d change my mind in an instant, run into his arms and take it all back. But I can’t do that. I made my choice, and now I have to live with it.

Chapter 6

We are in position outside of the center building. It took us four hours to get here, and we’ve been sitting outside watching the guards move from row to row of shipping containers, monitoring their movements to see if any of them are holding children.

Boris and Nessa are guarding the North and East perimeter while I hold the West. I try not to let my mind drift back to yesterday and the confession Nessa made that nearly shattered my soul. Instead, I grit my teeth, attempting to force away the damn emotions.

Why dofeelingshave to affect me right now? I’ve gone so long without them, and I have to say, I much prefer those pesky little things to stay in the background.

Centering my scope on the doors to the tower in the middle of the shipping yard, I watch two guards exit and change shifts with the other two outside.

“Shift change beginning,” I announce over comms, my fingers itching to pull the trigger, but I refrain.For now.

“Hold position,” Nessa replies. She preferred to wait and watch the guards go through every container in the vicinity when we were planning. Her and Boris agreed that it was best to know everything on site possible before making a move.

There are only five containers Lev found that were being looked into each time the guards changed over. I can’t help but shake the sense of urgency running through my veins. Something feels off, wrong even. Sweat beads on my brow, and I wipe at it for the thousandth time. My t-shirt is nearly dripping on its own from the amount of perspiration I have let out.

At this point, I’m dehydrated, irritable, and very likely to shoot something at the first sign of it pissing me off.

I trained for two years to be an assassin, I’ve been out on my own for one year, and still my worst quality in these jobs is that I loathe other people and have the patience of a toddler. Everything else is good though. Like, I can shoot a moving target from a thousand yards. And I know all the ways to torture someone while keeping them alive so that they feel every ounce of pain.

You know, the typical assassin necessities.

I wipe my face again, attempting to keep an eye on my scope to watch the guards. I may or may not let a sigh go through over the comms just so someone else can share in the knowledge that I am miserable at this particular moment.

The guards stop in front of a container. It’s one of the final few we haven’t seen yet. But instead of opening it, they stop and start chatting like we have all fecking day.

It’s a hot day, if these kids are in one of these containers they could be at risk of overheating. I don’t want to lose any of them because we let the guards take their time.

Screw the plan.

Taking aim at the taller of the four men, I pull the trigger. My gut is rarely wrong, and something is telling me I need to get down on the ground fast.

“What the feck?” Nessa asks. “Do you have eyes on the kids?”

“Suspicious activity,” I announce as I jump down from my hiding spot to the top of another container. The other two guards move towards Nessa and Boris.

“What kind of activity?” Boris asks, clearly frustrated.

“The suspicious kind,” I toss back, knowing it will irritate him. “Incoming. Two targets.”

They will take care of the guards, and I can get to these kids. Holstering my rifle on my back, I jump down one final time to land on the ground and make my way towards the five containers we had pictures of. The ones that seemed to contain people according to the heat signature scans from Lev.

I killed the man who had the key, but as I approach the guard house, I notice a pair of bolt cutters lying against the building. I go for those instead.Much faster. Now I don’t have to touch a dead body, it must be my lucky day.

Heaving them in my arms, I can feel an inner tremble starting up, as if my heart were going to explode in my chest. I try not to let my mind revert to being scared and alone in that dark space. I refuse to break when there is so much on the line.

Rushing to each container, I cut each chain and begin opening them wide, letting in air and sunlight as swiftly as I can.However, with each one turning up empty as I go down the line, my heart begins to sink.

“Feck!” I shout as I find the last one empty. The bolt cutters smack into another container as I toss them to the side, the sound echoing in my mind in a symphony that feels too familiar.

You are not that kid anymore. Pull it together. You need to save them just like she saved you.

My hands ball into fists just as a shot bounces off the door next to me, nearly hitting me in the ear.How fecking rude, don’t people know assassins need to be able to hear?

Unholstering one of my guns, I quickly return fire. I spot the man standing on top of the container just north of me. The second he is in my sights, his skull splatters with the bullet I shoot through it. I watch with grim satisfaction as his lifeless body tumbles thirty feet down and lands with a thud.

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