Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 136731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Pocket change for a man like him.
Egon Baris is a known psychopath. To make matters worse, he’s a paranoid psychopath. Which likely means that from the moment this very military-looking truck is visible from the house, he’s going to panic, and he’s going to do this in an extreme way.
How do I know this?
Because it’s what I would do.
A block away, parked at the side of the road, I warn Ethan, “He’s going to come out guns blazing. You get that, right?” I pause to let that sink in then speak loud enough so the eight others in the truck can hear me. “You get the men first, but don’t take the women for face value. They might look meek and pretty, but they’re Albanian. These bitches are taught to wield a gun from the time they’re old enough to carry one and, believe me, they don’t think nothing of popping all your asses. If anyone pulls a gun, and you better believe they fucking will, you take ‘em down.” I look around at the stern-faced men who don’t bother to look back at me. Disrespectful fucks. “You take ‘em all down.”
But Black rushes to add, “All except Baris. We want Egon Baris alive. If you need to take him down, use non-lethal force.” I throw him a look that says he’s crazy if he thinks Egon will be an easy target. With a roll of his eyes, he barks out, “Listen, I don’t care if you shoot out this dickhead’s knee-caps or if he loses a hand. You just make sure the motherfucker is whole enough to stand trial and serve in prison, is that clear?”
A chorus of “Yes, sir” rings out, and a minute later, over the radio, Black confirms that the second truck is in position, rounding the back of the house and they’re ready to move at Black’s word.
The clothes I’m wearing feel restrictive, although they are anything but. It’s all in my head. The black fatigues fit well, but the thick material of the long-sleeved black shirt is heavy on my skin. Shit, I’m used to wearing silk, not heavy thread cotton. The bulletproof vest over the top of it is stifling. With a black helmet to match, I do as the others do and pull the goggles over my eyes, lifting the half-face mask up and over my nose at Black’s demand. The black steel-toed boots however… I’m keeping those.
Black’s men have three weapons within arm’s reach, an MP5 sub-machine gun in hand, and two .45-caliber pistols strapped to each thigh.
And me?
I look down at the baton with blind rage. It’s like Black’s setting me up to take a bullet.
Fuck him.
It happens fast, too fast to truly comprehend.
The truck starts and jolts forward, building up speed then screeching to a halt in front of the house Egon Baris built on sex, drugs, and rock ’n’ roll. The men file out in beautiful uniformity, up the front steps and I follow behind, way behind. If anyone’s getting shot, you mark my words, it’s going to be a dude with a motherfucking gun, not me. Although they don’t announce their presence, as soon as the door is smashed in—thanks to the heavy breacher used as a battering ram—shouts and cries in Albanian sound throughout the entire building, along with the sounds of thudding footfalls as Egon’s men work to hold the keep.
Shots are fired as soon as Black’s men are sent upstairs. The shocked cries of the girls are loud, and hearing them beg for their lives in broken English makes me want to smash heads.
“On the floor! Hands up!”
“Put your weapon down!”
“Where is Baris? Huh?” A heavy thud sounds, followed by a long, pained groan. “Where is Egon Baris?”
“If you do not comply, I will shoot you. Do you understand me?”
“It’s okay, miss. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Get down. Get down. I said get down!”
The law is tedious work. If it were me here on my own, they’d have never heard me coming. The last thing they’d have seen was the barrel of my gun between their eyes and then bam.
It was a mercy, my way, really. Quick and concise. No life flashing before their eyes, no nothing.
Just fade to black.
The end.
Game over.
Yeah.
It was definitely a kindness, my way.
The fight, the struggle for control, it sends the blood humming through my veins. Truth be told, I’m not needed here. With sixteen armed men including Ethan Black and myself, the war is already won.
But I get it. I understand the need to battle. After all, you back a dog into a corner and they’re gonna bite. Same goes for people.
Scattered bodies of both men and women litter the floor, some still moving but visibly injured, while others lay with their eyes open, their faces in a state of shock, the light dimmed in their cold, dead stare.