Page 81 of The Company We Keep

(Dust doesn’t have anything but a goddamn handgun,Carrowthought.Not even a vest.El Comandante’s men had come armed to the teeth — and they would take the kid out in a heartbeat. The Company needed to work faster.)

The sound of men kicking at the tech lab door reached them. The kicking became gunshots as they tried to blast past the reinforced entryway.

Herron calmly unlocked the door of the armory and shot the men in the back. They fell back and then turned to assess the hall, finally giving the all clear signal back to the rest.

Quiet and rehearsed, Leta, Vashvi, Herron, and Wayles fell into step as Carrow led them through the penthouse that had been their home for years, transformed now in less than an hour into a battlefield.

Dust had made it easy for them by slowing down the men below. They didn’t have to worry as much about covering their backs, and each of them knew the penthouse by heart. They knew where the best vantage points were, where crossing a room would leave them exposed and where it could be at least passably safe.

The movement of the team was slow and methodical.

One by one, they encountered the cartel’s men.

They had come well-armed, but they hadn’t been prepared for the guerilla situation that they faced within the walls of the penthouse.

The Company fell into a rhythm as they made their way to the door that would let them out to the roof — and in spite of everything, the true horror of that day, it feltgoodto Carrow.

Carrow did not relish the lives that were being lost. He hated killing the men and hated watching the people he loved being forced to kill. But he hadn't been lying when Dust had asked him, months ago, what he would do if The Company was in danger. He had killed the man in the alley on the day of the bank job because he thought he was protecting Dust.He would erase the entire goddamn city and everyone in it if it meant protecting the people by his side.

And so the fact that they were taking lives that day had to be compartmentalized, tucked away for a later time when he could unpack the horrors of what was unfolding there in his penthouse, in his fortress, in the one place where he thought he could protect the people around him.

The devastation in front of him was beyond losing Dust, was beyond losing any sense of certainty that he could love someone, beyond the loss of life. It was his deepest fear realized: that he could never ensure complete protection for anyone. Not himself and certainly not the people around him.

He stuffed the thoughts down. They had to escape. Dust had given them time, and he owed it to Dust to do his damndest to save the rest of them.

As they flanked and conquered each new hallway, each new space, it felt like The Company was making music. The remaining members of his family came together with him perfectly in that moment and he felt the high of invincibility, like they were moving as one living, unstoppable unit.

His thinking slowed down, perception heightened by adrenaline.

A man fell to his left. Carrow thought of The Kettle Syndicate — the men he had lost that day.

They moved through a chunk of open space and Herron signaled that there was a group coming to their right. Carrow thought of his mother, of how he had failed her but also the way he had provided. The things he had done to care for her.

Leta hefted an automatic rifle, taking the clump of men out neatly as they rounded the corner. Carrow allowed himself to think of Dust — even to mourn him in that moment. How much of what they’d shared had been real? It must have been the truth, that he had turned. Why else would he give his life?

Wayles grunted, a bullet catching him hard in the back as he stumbled forwards. Carrow followed the bullet’s path, spinning on his heel and shooting blindly, eliminating the man who had snuck behind them. He hauled Wayles back to his feet.

“Knocked the breath out of me,” Wayles said weakly, his hand reaching for the spot where the bullet had been stopped by his vest.

And then a crack of sunlight, as they opened the door to the roof.

Herron stepped up first, assessing the scene through the barely-opened door.

“There are two helicopters and three men,” they said. “Easy. We’re home free.”

Leta passed the assault rifle to Vashvi and then kneeled on the stairs, offering up her shoulder as a steady point from which to mount their last siege, to eliminate the last barriers between The Company and freedom.

They huddled there in the stairwell as the sharpshooter brought the butt of the rifle to rest against her ruined shoulder.

Three quick sounds —pockpockpock! —less than a second ticking by between each suppressor-deadened shot. Vashvi assessed the scene, her face pressed to the scope, waiting for anyone else to arrive. Everything was impossibly quiet.

“We’re clear,” she said.

Carrow nodded to Herron.

“We go out first and sweep,” he said.

They came out onto the roof low and paused, momentarily blinded by the midday sunlight and willing their eyes to adjust.

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