Page 31 of Fired at the Heart

Without waiting, I surge back to my feet, sprinting toward Vince as the doors begin to close with a pneumatic hiss. I dive forward, rolling through the narrowing gap just before they slam shut with a definitive click.

Raphael’s curses sound from the other side, followed by the beep of buttons being pressed in rapid sequence as he tries to override the lock.

I find myself in a cavernous space with dim lighting, filled with shipping containers arranged in neat rows. This must be where they store and transport their “merchandise.” The thought sends a fresh wave of rage through me.

Twenty yards ahead, Vince drags himself between two containers, trying to lose me in the labyrinth of metal boxes. But he leaves a trail of blood behind him for me to follow.

Glock held at the ready, I advance with caution.

A crash sounds from behind me as Raphael decides that finesse was taking too long. The doors burst open, the frame bent where he applied some form of breach charge from his tactical kit. He steps through the smoke, my pistol raised and ready, scanning for threats.

“Seven containers to your right,” I call to him, not taking my focus off Vince’s blood trail. “I’m following him in.”

“Wait for backup.” Raphael moves to join me. “Could be a trap.”

“If we wait, he might call in reinforcements,” I counter, advancing between the containers. “Or he could destroy evidence. Or alert other cells.”

With a frustrated sound, Raphael falls in beside me, covering my blind spots as we track Vince through the maze of shipping containers. Some are standard cargo units, but others have been modified, with windows cut into the sides and ventilation systems attached. Makeshift transport cells for human cargo. My stomach turns at the thought.

“There.” Raphael gestures toward a gap between two containers where a fresh smear of blood glistens under the harsh fluorescent lights.

We approach from opposite sides, a pincer movement that used to be one of our signature tactics. I signal a silent three-count, then dive around the corner, weapon raised.

Vince sits propped up on a container, phone in hand, stabbing at the screen. His complexion is ashen, his wounded leg stretched out before him in a growing puddle of red. When he spots me, fear twists his features, and satisfaction rushes through me.

“Drop the phone,” I command, Raphael’s Glock trained on Vince’s forehead.

Vince’s hand tightens around the device. “One tap and I send an alert to my entire network. Your operation gets burned. Every Omega in our possession gets relocated.”

Including Jade. My finger tightens on the trigger, the temptation to end him warring with the need for information.

“Put the phone down.” Raphael comes up behind me. “Or I’ll let my partner put a bullet through each of your joints, starting with the good knee.”

Vince hesitates, calculating his odds, frantically searching for leverage or a way out.

“Three seconds.” I step closer. “One.”

His eyes dart between us, searching for weakness and finding none.

“Two.”

Vince’s thumb moves, pressing down on the screen.

I lunge forward, covering the distance between us in two quick strides. My heel connects with his wrist, sending the phone flying. In the same fluid motion, I drop to one knee, driving it into his wounded leg, and his scream echoes off the metal containers around us.

“Wrong choice.” I press the barrel of the Glock under his chin, forcing his head up.

Raphael moves to retrieve the phone, checking the screen before pocketing it. “Message didn’t send. But he was trying to activate a protocol called ‘Scorched Earth’.”

“Sounds fun.” I don’t take my focus off of Vince. “What does that entail?”

Vince’s face contorts with pain and fury. “Fucking Omega bitch. Do you have any idea who you’re dealing with?”

I press the barrel of the gun to his temple, a cold sense of satisfaction flooding me as the stink of fear fills my nose. “The real question is whether you understand whoyou’redealing with.”

I lean closer. “That man behind me? Someone in your organization kidnapped one of his family. So, I’m going to peel you like an onion until I’ve exposed everything about the people running this Omega trafficking ring.”

“You’re dead,” Vince hisses, though a tremor betrays his attempt at bravado. “All of you. When my associates find out?—”

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