Page 84 of Tear Me Down
We could finally keep the security camera in our bedroom turned off, instead of me having to turn it off every time I want to touch her. Of course, I’d ask her to keep it on while she’s home and I’m not, but that’s only for my selfishness of needing to look at her beautiful face every chance I get. She could go to the store and not have to have Zeke or someone else trail at most five feet behind her, and she would feel better not having someone watch her like a hawk while she works. Hell, she could go pick out any sexy outfit she wants without her brother sitting in the car outside.
I can imagine how free and secure she’ll feel, and then maybe she’ll be more open to being seen. Once the doctor clears her and this problem is out of the way, I can get her off that bullshit prescription. I can move past my insecurities, and we can focus on us. Our impending marriage, starting a family…
“D? Do you copy? Everyone is in position,” Carter interrupts, breaking through the static on my earpiece. I internally groan, hating that the thought was disrupted, but it’s a good thing. I was getting a little too carried away, and I have to actually pull this off for any of those thoughts to become reality.
“Yeah, yeah. All good. Snipers at the ready,” I command, raising my own to access the targets. This operation starts off much like when I displayed Cooper’s body to be seen by the whole city, but the end result will be much different. There won’t be any mile-high fires for the city to witness, or bodies on display. Just a silent show of victory. Once the first guard is in my sight, I press my finger on the com, ready to get this show on the road. “Snipers engage.”
I watch as the first few drop from my scope, and then I act—taking two out myself before confirmations start to ring through my ear. Zeke and Alex, who are leading the other two zones of our operation, confirm that the exterior targets have been eliminated, so I signal that the perimeter is secure, and it’s time to move in.
We’re entering at three different points. One through the office on the side of the building, the second through the back, and the third through the main doors in the front. Three exits, and we’re covering them all. It did cross my mind that this could be like something out of a movie, and a helicopter could land on the roof to fly them away, but then I realized how ridiculous I was and moved on. Every possible way they could escape played through my mind and Ididn’t move everyone into position until I was sure this was the best course of action.
Filing in one by one, we make our way to the entry points, waiting for confirmation from Alex and Zeke before storming inside. The warehouse is surrounded by brick and metal, both cold and contradictory to the heat outside, even at night. The building is clearly worn, and the neglect from the past two years of inactivity is not missed. I can’t help but focus on the rust and dents in the metal as we wait for the others to get into position—watching and listening for any possible movement or noise that’s out of the ordinary.
The moment they signal they’re ‘a go’, we open the doors gently and quietly make our way in. We’re prepared for the initial breech at least, thanks to the thermal images we gathered before we started the operation. The equipment couldn’t get much through the thick walls, but showed a few guards patrolling the hallways towards the outside, so they were easier to detect. Once we get past the initial walkways, we’re going in blind, but I have every bit of confidence that we can pull this off.
Once I hear shuffling up ahead, I signal the men following me to stop and wait for the moment he turns the corner. When he does, I act quickly and withdraw my blade. My grip is harsh as I wrap my arm around his neck and pull him in. I hold onto him with an iron grip as I shove my knife into his throat and pull away harshly. The ripping of his skin and gargling sounds sends a tingle down my arm, but I don’t revel in it yet. I toss the body behind me to my men and let them heave him to the side so he can bleed out alone.
I can seep in the carnage once I havehim.
More confirmations of death ring through my ear, signaling the disposal of one guard after another, and the anticipation grows deep within me. Just afew more steps, maybe a few minutes of gunfire, and he’ll be right where I want him—held in my grasp and begging for mercy.
I’ll watch as his eyes widen and then fall as he thinks about the things I’ll do to him. He’ll conjure up countless scenarios of how I’ll torture him, and maybe I’ll just let his mind spin for a while to build the expectation and fear. The thought sends that familiar warmth coursing through my body, and I feel as charged as ever to get this over with.
After quickly disposing of another guard, my mood is instantly soured, crashing and burning from the electric feeling before. Something isn’t right. The air is too clean, void of the harsh chemicals we normally encounter in these buildings. It’s also cold, like astalecold, that’s only present with the absence of life. Perhaps I’m thinking too much into it. The moles have never steered us wrong before, and the activity was clear from the outside, but I can’t just ignore this feeling. We have to move forward, but we need to do this differently as we approach the main working floor.
I raise my hand in a fist to signal my team to halt before I press into the earpiece.
“Proceed with caution, something doesn’t feel right.”
“Copy,” Zeke and Alex reply one right after the other, and we move forward.
This place is too quiet. There are no radio feeds, machines whirring, and while warehouses like this typically don’t have air conditioning, I don’t hear the sound of a fan running—even though it’s mid July now. That could be because they didn’t want too many distractions during this meeting, but there’s about to be a lot more commotion than they wanted.
We stop outside the swinging doors to the working floor, and I wait for everyone to signal that they’re ready. My heart races, and I know that the importance of this is holding steady over my head. This is it. This one last fight, and everything will be okay. I just have to keep telling myself that.
“Engage.” I signal the rest of the teams, and we burst into the main area, aiming true and taking out the guards that surround the room. They drop one by one, barely having time to fire back, and once the last shot is fired, things get eerily quiet—too quiet, unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before.
I take one last look around the room, feeling the temperature drop to an almost paranormal level, and my gaze catches Zeke’s from across the empty space. He’s looking up, and his face is almost horrified with his mouth lazily open and his eyes wide. I follow it, wondering what the hell has him so spooked, and my mouth drops open, mimicking his in reaction to the sight above me.
Jeremy, Darren, and Bradley, all three of our moles, are strung up by nooses—their decaying bodies hanging from the ceiling, obviously a retaliation for what I did to Hugo’s first home and to Cooper. We all stare in disbelief, and my stomach sinks to the floor.
Images of Henry and the night he died come barreling through, and my chest aches. The sound of the fatal gunshot echoes through the space like a ghost’s wail, and I can still see the void in his eyes when he passed. My friends, my men, they counted on me to keep them safe. I failed again. Their deaths were clearly dragged out, and painful. While they’ve already started to decompose, the evidence of their torture still lingers.
Some of their eyes are missing, and I can faintly see that Jeremy’s tongue was cut out. There are cuts on the bottoms of their feet, and gashes all over their bodies. Burn marks and bruises riddle their discolored skin, and even though what’s left of their faces is contorted, I can see the fear they felt in their last moments. I know I shouldn’t look at or study every detail, but I can’t help it. They weremyresponsibility.Mymen, and I failed them again.
This was a set up. There was never a meeting or even a chance to get to Hugo tonight, and now three of my men are dead—a senseless death that I should’ve seen coming. The moment things got too deep, I should’ve fucking pulled them—gotten over my selfish need for revenge and kept them safe.
“D?” Alex calls, and I tear myself away to look in his direction, but he’s gesturing to the floor in the middle, where the light shines differently on the concrete. I step forward, determined to know what it is. The men have obviously been dead for at least a week, and weren’t killed here, so I doubt that it’s blood, but the rest of the floor is clean. So, thishasto be something that was left intentionally.
Some of the men in my group step behind me, obviously ready to cover if necessary, but I have a feeling I won’t be needing it. This was all a decoy, a demonstration of power that I was stupid enough to fall for.
As I get close enough, and the floor comes into view, my blood instantly boils with the taunt spray-painted on to the floor.
‘I fucking killed them,’it reads.
“FUCK!” I throw my hands out and grab the closest thing to me, a rusted, old chair that actually holds some weight, but not enough to stop the emotional charge ripping through me. I throw it across the room as I roar, barely able to contain my despair and rage as I search for some type of outlet. The only thing I can think is that I deserve this—this pain, this agony, and the guilt that’s attached to it—as I look back up.
Staring straight up towards their bodies, I crumble into the remorse and grief for my men, who were clearly tortured and suffered for their treachery. While Darren and Jeremy are on full display, their missing limbs a clear sign of the brutality they suffered, Bradley is the only one still clothed, and that grabs my attention. I examine that for a moment, wondering why he would’ve left one clothed and not the others. He was the more trusted by Dust out of the moles, but I would think that would be cause for more humiliation, not less.
