Page 171 of A War Around Us

“Yes, boss,” they all replied.

“Everyone knows their positions?” I stared at each man. “Good, now let’s go make a statement. Arlo?” I quipped, giving him the go-ahead.

“Casper, you’re up.” Arlo lifted his chin to the scattered boats.

Casper nudged Rana, and they both trailed ahead and disappeared into a blind spot. A few short minutes later, only Casper resurfaced into the dimmed and yellow boardwalk lights. The farther he walked, the more the dew and darkness cloaked him into a ghost of a man.

Rana then followed Casper’s trail, and it was our turn to set course into the blind spot.

Emilio and his men dispersed across the border of the property, leaving Sergio and Mimmo behind.

Arlo walked silently in front while Ilias stayed behind me. We moved united and attune to one another as we stayed under the edge of the overhanging roof. The metal building creaked loudly against the gusts of wind, offering a barrier of sound.

I kept my gun tucked into my waist, though I wanted its weight in my hand. If it wasn’t for the location of this hit, things would be different. I wouldn’t be able to torture and toy the bastard who’d hunted what was mine.

Keeping my breathing steady, I waited and waited.

Rana’s signal was nonexistent.

Ilias shifted behind.

Arlo’s attention remained straight ahead.

And I stood still while my heart began beating out of rhythm. A match between bloodthirst and restrain. A drum of uncertainty for the future of one human in particular.

“Lucca,” Viktor spoke clearly into my ear.

“Hmm,” I hummed in acknowledgment.

“I’ve secured a second vessel if needed. East side, boardwalk number four—”

“Is there something I’m unaware of?” I uttered, annoyed at the extra precaution. Sure, we always had escape plans and different points of hideouts, but Arlo already had one boat ready for a quick getaway if needed. Securing a second vessel seemed too extreme.

“Docked on slot five,” Viktor continued as if I hadn’t interrupted him. “And no. I just can’t take the chance.”

The chance of me dying, along with the treaty that promised his baby brother, Ilias, another breath.

Croak. Croak.

“Is that…?” Ilias asked.

Yes, Rana. Croaking.

“Believe it. Now, let’s go,” Arlo ushered.

In a loose formation, we set off under the boardwalk lights. Small waves crashed beneath the pier, and the wind picked up in a whistle. A blue heron watched us as he stood on top of a wooden post, fishing, scouting, hunting for his next meal. He screeched on our approach until our presence wasn’t welcomed, and he flew away before we reached him.

Our pace didn’t falter, and with each boat we passed, the closer to Tino I got, and the more unstable my mind spun with visions of crimson.

I spotted Rana by the edge of the boardwalk with a ladder rope hanging next to him and a man slumped by a post, sleeping without the possibility of another day.

One down.

With no time to waste or another thought for the dead, I went up first.

Once my feet rocked in the late eighties model yacht, my adrenaline kicked in, and I struggled to keep up with the plan. With the idea of clean, quick, and quiet deaths.

Casper leaned against the side of the cabin. Only a fraction of him was uncovered by the shade of the tower above. He motioned for me to continue as a bundle of cooling flesh lay to his left.

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