Page 9 of Victorious: Part 3
“Nitro, Koa… take the loading dock. Mace, you’re with me and Phoenix on the main entrance. Ghost, find us a back way in. Something we can use to cause a distraction or breach,” Sin orders.
“On it,” Ghost replies, fingers no doubt flying across his tablet as he pulls up satellite overlays and building schematics like the genius he is.
We reach the edge of the building, pressed against the corrugated siding, cloaked in shadow. The warehouse looms above us, a monolith of rust and decay. My pulse hammers in my ears as I check my weapon.
Then Ghost’s voice comes back, cool and low. “Rear northeast access door. Utility entrance. Small lock panel. It’s a clear weak point. It’ll put you directly below her position.”
“Perfect, let’s make it loud,” Sin murmurs.
We move fast, ducking between dead forklifts and stacked pallets, boots silent on the dirt. When we reach the back corner, Sin unpacks the charge, his fingers working with precision that comes from years of blowing shit up. He sticks the device to the rusted metal lock panel with a magnetic clamp and peels it back.
He looks at us. “On my mark. Take cover behind that crate. It’s gonna kick.”
The air is electric, charged with the anticipation of violence, and we dive behind the heavy shipping container, the cold steel digging into my back. My fingers twitch, ready to unleash hell, but I force myself to focus.
Focus on Clover.
Focus on what comes next.
“Three… two…”
I press my back harder against the metal, the hum of the countdown in my blood. There’s no room for hesitation. There’s no fucking way in hell I’m leaving without her.
“One.”
The explosion rips through the air like a crack of lightning. It’s not just a bang—it is a seismic rupture, an all-consuming eruption of fire, metal, and hell itself. The blast punches into us, shoving us back against the crate, throwing our bodies like ragdolls. My chest caves in as if a thousand tons of weight are pressing against me.
My ears are ringing, my body hums with the aftershocks. Heat radiates over my skin, followed by the deafening roar of the explosion, followed by, “Go, go, go!” Sin bellows, already moving, dragging me with him.
We charge through the blasted gap, guns raised. Dust and debris explode in every direction, the air thick with smoke and the foul, acrid scent of scorched earth. The entire warehouse groans under the weight of the destruction, like it’s a living thing being torn apart from the outside in.
Chaos is everywhere.
Metal beams screech.
Pipes burst overhead with violent, rattling force.
The ground beneath us shakes, rumbling as if the very building is about to collapse on top of us.
The roar of our gunfire echoes, bouncing off the steel walls, mingling with the ragged sounds of men scrambling for cover.
But they’re not quick enough.
The Cartel soldiers are already in motion, scrambling from their hiding places, their guns spitting fire, bullets pinging off the steel, ricocheting like deadly pinballs. I spot one soldiertoo slow to dive for cover, his rifle barely raised before I send a round straight through his chest. He crumples like paper, collapsing with a heavy thud, but there’s no time to savor it.
We have to move.
We have to keep going.
Another soldier takes aim at me from the far end of the room. He doesn’t stand a chance. My finger tightens on the trigger, and his body jerks back, blood spraying across the broken warehouse floor.
I don’t even blink.
My focus is razor-sharp.
There is only one thing on my mind…Clover.
I can’t afford to stop, to hesitate, to get distracted.
