Page 64 of Victorious: Part 2
We all pull our guns and begin to approach the building. My eyes scan for security cameras, exit routes, anything that might tell us what we’re walking into.
“Third floor, apartment 3B,” I tell Alpha as we climb the stairs.
“You sure they’re here?” Montana asks, tension radiating from every muscle in his body.
“Only one way to find out,” I reply.
Alpha knocks on the door, not aggressively, but firm enough to mean business. The silence that follows stretches on too long, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
“Luke and Logan Martinez?” Alpha calls out. “We need to talk to you about the prison system corruption you reported.”
More silence.
Then I hear it. The subtle sound of metal sliding against metal.
Someone’s loading a weapon.
“Step away from the door,” a gravelly voice echoes from inside, hard and commanding. “Now!”
We all take a step back, and I catch Alpha’s eye.
This isn’t going according to plan.
“We’re not the bad guys here,” Alpha calls out. “We’re here because we have the same enemies you do.”
“Bullshit,” comes the second voice. “Nobody finds us unless they’re supposed to. And we sure as fuck didn’t give our address to any damn motorcycle club.”
Montana steps forward, raising his hands in the air, right in front of the window that’s next to the door. The rest of us tense and urge him to get the fuck back, but he places his gun down on the ground beneath his feet. “I’m putting my gun down as a show of faith. My name’s Montana. My mother, Valerie Drake, is an inmate at the California Institute for Women. The same corruption you tried to report? It’s putting her life in danger right now.”
There’s a long pause, then the sound of hushed conversation from inside the apartment.
“How do we know you’re not working forthem?”the first voice asks.
“Because,” Montana says, his voice cracking slightly. “If I were working for them, my mother would already be dead.”
Another pause. Then the heavy clicking of metallic locksstarts turning—a lot of them.
The door opens just wide enough to reveal the barrel of a shotgun and part of a face.
“All of you. Hands, where I can see them. Any sudden moves and this conversation endsrealfucking quick.”
Chapter Fifteen
LOKI
We raise our hands slowly. The door opens wider, revealing two men who look as if they haven’t slept properly in weeks. Both have weapons trained on us—Luke with the shotgun, Logan with a pistol. Their eyes dart constantly, checking the hallway behind us, looking for threats.
“You’ve got thirty seconds to convince us not to slam this door or shoot you where you stand,” Luke grunts.
Montana speaks up again, his voice calm, but stern. “Eight months ago, you filed a report about irregular inmate transfers and suspicious guard behavior. Two days ago, my mother sent me a message saying new inmates were coming in and things were about to getreal fucking bad. Yesterday, she stopped responding to my calls entirely.”
Luke’s grip on the shotgun doesn’t waver, but something shifts in his expression.
“Anyone could have that information,” Logan growls.
“There’s a guard there, Rhonda,” Montana continues desperately. “Said she’d look out for my mother. My mother trusts her. We all trust her. Do you know her? Surely, she could vouch for us?”
Both brothers go completely rigid at the mention of Rhonda’s name.
