Page 106 of Sully

“He’s only doing this because of his brother’s death.”

“Oh, fuck off with that. You don’t know that. His brother could have come home, and he still could have been a violent shithead. Hundreds of people grieve the deaths of loved ones every day that happened at the hands of someone else. They don’t go and do this shit. He was a ticking time bomb likely obsessed with snuff porn and online incel forums.”

“This is the strangest pep talk I’ve ever heard,” I said, but the tight sensation in my chest eased.

“Who gives a fuck if it’s working,” he said, shooting me that devilish smirk of his. “You convinced he needs to be put down yet?”

“He was always gonna get put down,” I told him, rocking my head side to side to ease the tension in my jaw. “But I feel slightly less conflicted now.”

“Good. Less conflicted is good. You start getting in your head about shit again, imagine pretty little Bonnie just sitting outside doing one of her weird-ass sticker puzzles, smiling at the dog chasing a squirrel, and that fucker comes strolling up to her with a gun and points it at her head—“

“Christ, man,” I cut him off.

“Points it at her head and pulls the trigger,” he went on. “Imagine her on the ground, bleeding out.”

“Fallon, what the fuck?”

“That’s the very possibly reality,” he said, shrugging, “if you don’t kill this guy.”

“Alright,” I said, exhaling hard, trying to get the image he’d just created out of my head.

“That feeling in your gut,” Fallon said, watching me. “That’s family. Futures and rings type shit. So go there tonight, do what you got to do, be smart, and come back here to make that future a reality.”

With that, he moved on to speak to Rune and Perish as they both finished strapping up.

Then just like that, we were changing the plates, then piling into the SUV, all of us quiet, lost in our own thoughts, getting into whatever mindset we needed for the job.

“Why are there no fucking numbers?” Rune, at the wheel, grumbled.

“It’s that one,” I said, nodding toward one of the houses. The only one on the whole street, from what I could tell, with Bilco doors. The same doors that Bonnie had mentioned climbing out of.

“He’s right,” Perish agreed, nodding toward the mailbox with the house’s number on it in faded white stickers.

“Where am I parking?” Rune asked.

“Lights off in the driveway,” I decided, going with my gut. “Turn the interior lights off,” I said, reaching up to slide the one above me off. “No one close their doors when they get out.”

They each nodded their understanding.

Sure, it had more of an element of surprise to be able to park on the street and walk up. But these were the days, unfortunately, of everyone and their grandmother having a damn doorbell camera. Sure, masks worked to hide our identity. But if someone got an alert on their app, then looked out to see three masked men walking down the street, they would likely call it in.

Parking in the drive gave us a little more protection when it came to the neighbors.

“Perish back. Rune front. I’m going in through the basement if it’s open. If not, I’ll go around the back too.”

With that, everyone nodded and Rune slowly crept up the—thankfully paved—driveway.

My breath felt trapped in my chest, worried about every noise.

“Sweep the house until you find him. Don’t engage without me unless you have to.”

Rune cut the engine.

We pulled up our masks, reached for our guns, then moved out of the SUV in unison.

There was no more discussion then, just action, just men who knew what they had to do and sprang into action to do it.

I noticed again with a sort of detached interest how deftly and confidently Rune moved. Like this wasn’t his first—or second or tenth—mission.

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