Page 106 of The Thief
And I'm not done yet.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
freddie
The address leads me to a warehouse district on the outskirts of Dublin, the kind of place where screams don't carry and bodies disappear without questions.
Perfect place for what Trace has planned.
I park three blocks away and check my weapons one final time. Two pistols, extra magazines, a knife in my boot, another in my jacket. Not nearly enough for what I'm walking into, but it'll have to do.
My phone buzzes with incoming text messages.
Maverick: In position. Two blocks north.
Stephen: South side covered.
Emmanuel: Ready. East approach secure.
Good. They're close enough to help when things go sideways but far enough away that Trace won't spot them immediately. The plan's simple: I go in alone, locate Alastríona, and get her clear of the immediate threat. Then my brothers come in and we paint the walls with Trace's blood.
Another text, this one from Jason.
Jason: Car ready. Hospital route memorized. Won't let you down.
Jason's one of the Houlihan men. He’s the best wheelman in Dublin and loyal as they come. If anyone can get Alastríona to safety once I free her, it's him.
Denis: In position. Makenna has over watch from the water tower. Danny and Malcolm ready to move on your signal. Henry says bring her home.
I will. Whatever it takes, however many bodies I have to drop, I'm bringing her home.
The warehouse is exactly what I expected, three stories of rust and broken windows; the kind of place that's been abandoned so long the city's forgotten it exists. Perfect for torture, murder, all the pleasant activities Trace specializes in.
No guards visible from the outside, but that doesn't mean anything. Professionals hide where you can't see them.
I approach from the blind side, using a loading dock door that's been left pried open for years. Inside, the warehouse is a maze of abandoned machinery and shipping containers. Plenty of places to hide, plenty of ways to die.
My footsteps echo despite my best efforts. Old concrete and metal don't care how quiet you try to be.
"Freddie Kinnock."
The voice comes from everywhere and nowhere, echoing off the walls. There must be speakers hidden throughout the building.
"Welcome to my little party. I trust you came alone, as requested?"
I don't answer. Let him wonder.
"No matter. You're here now, which means you care enough about the girl to walk into an obvious trap. How romantic."
Keep talking, you bastard. Every word helps me triangulate your position.
"She's quite beautiful, your little Belfast princess. Even with the bruises Tony gave her. Spirited, too; fought like a wildcat when we collected her."
My hands clench into fists. The thought of them hurting her, touching her, makes something dark and violent unfurl in my chest.
"But don't worry, we've barely started. The real fun begins when you watch me break her piece by piece."
I'm moving deeper into the warehouse now, following the sound of his voice. Upper level, southeast corner. That's where the speakers are loudest.
