Page 40 of Avenging Devil: Part 2

“Preach,” she asks. “You got your equipment sorted?”

“Will have in a moment.” Last night, I and the other sergeants-at-arms had all agreed to let the Utah sergeant-at-arms take the lead. He knows what his equipment is capable of. “Gears, come outside and help me get shit unloaded.”

There’s a bit of jostling as we move to let him out. I feel like I should leave too to make some room, but on the other hand, want to stay here in the thick of things.

“Lost…”

“Stay,” my prez tells me, his eyes meeting mine. “You know Niran better than any of us. We might need your insight when formulating a rescue plan.”

Or body extraction, echoes in my mind.

Drummer’s studying the screen. “We go with the original plan. Plant a few firecrackers to get their attention, show them we’ve got the upper hand.”

“Then, if possible, Swift will start the negotiation,” Snatcher completes for him, catching first my eye, then hers. “We’ll get the girl and brother free, then move in and take them down.”

I raise my chin, having developed a respect for Swift, but I’ve one thing to mention. Gesturing generally to the screens in front of Stormy, I explain, “Don’t forget they’re a bunch of fuckin’ misogynists.”

Turning briefly, Stormy grins at me. “And that’s the point. They won’t know how to deal with Swift. They’ll believe they’re running rings around her.”

“What’s that?” At Drummer’s words, Stormy’s attention snaps back to one of the screens.

“Well fuck.” Stormy leans in closer, and I try to peer over his shoulder. Is that…? He continues, “Looks like they’re rescuing themselves. I take it that’s Niran?”

My heart rate speeds up. “It fuckin’ is,” I confirm, watching the pair inch down the fire escape. “And that’s Saffie.”

“There’s nowhere for them to go,” Swift observes, pushing in closer. “There’s no fuckin’ cover. Bloody hell, what are they thinking?”

“We’re not in fucking place yet.” Snatcher sounds agonised. “Preacher’s setting it up now. They’ve moved too soon.”

I think we’re going to have a swift change of plans and one we hadn’t anticipated. “Then we go in all guns blazing, now.” Even as the words leave my mouth, I know it’s useless, as unbeknown to Niran, he’ll be spotted any moment by a man who seems to be doing a circular tour of the main building. Why didn’t you wait, Brother? I scream internally. We haven’t even got snipers on the ground.

It’s like a nightmare. Everything seems to slow down and to happen in slow motion, yet at the same time in a blur. The man comes upon Niran, Saffie runs, a gun is raised. Niran leaps and there’s a fight for the weapon, but Niran goes down. The man aims, fires, and Saffie hits the ground.

Stormy hovers the drone, but she’s lying, face down, unmoving. After a collective gasp goes around, he repositions the drone to focus on Niran. Other men now surround him, and he’s being dragged away. He puts up a good fight but is heavily outnumbered. His prosthesis is kicked out from under him, and when he falls to the ground, he’s punched, kicked, then carted away.

“Where the fuck are they taking him?” Drummer, having pushed his way back to the front, leans his hands on the back of Stormy’s chair. “Follow him, man.”

Despite a visual clenching of his jaw, Stormy doesn’t protest that he knows what he’s doing and it’s exactly that. We follow Niran’s progress until they disappear into the clubhouse.

“He’s dead unless we go now,” I observe, bouncing on my heels. My elation at seeing Niran alive was short lived.

“Is the girl dead?” Red asks.

Having lost sight of Niran, Stormy again moves the drone back to where it was. “She’s not moving, and no one’s gone to fuckin’ check her.”

“Confident bastard who took the shot,” Red observes.

“Or,” I say coldly, “they don’t care whether she’s dying or dead. Oh fuck… what’s that?”

“Fuckin’ dogs,” Snatcher confirms, then sighs heavily. “Fuck but I hate shooting dogs.”

Said dogs are now hovering near Saffie, presumably making sure if she’s capable of moving, she’s no option other than to stay in place.

Preacher suddenly appears behind us. “Take these.” He begins to pass earbuds out. “Two-way communications, on separate channels for different teams. Stormy will handle the comms and patch through as necessary. He’ll be able to keep us updated…”

But the man in question stands, reaches out his hand and, opening and closing it, demands one of the earbuds for himself. “Gears is taking over. I’m on the front line, Brother.”

Snatcher rolls his eyes but doesn’t protest.

---