Page 18 of Ashfall
“Well, at least I know I'll have a friend in hell when I get there.” I smile at her, allowing a small, authentic one, seeing as it may be my last. That familiar cackle spills out in the cruiser - the laugh of hers I’ve come to know and love, a laugh that I used to have. “If I get there first, I’ll keep a seat warm for you.”
Blitz is on her phone,analyzing the club's surroundings, picking out a spot for us to hide the cruiser. She’s been reviewing the area map the entire way, cross referencing with our intel. She directs me to a small car park four streets behind the club, jumps out, and - without hesitation - breaks the padlock on the gate with cutters. I’m starting to think she’s been watching me a lot longer than she let on. I drive in, parking up against the darkened wall to keep the car concealed. She slides back into the passenger seat and pulls a bag from behind her - one I hadn’t noticed before. She shoves the cutters inside and pulls out a tablet.
“Uh, Blitz … is that the same tablet Hawk and Graves use?” Her fingers flick across the screen, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.
“I’m only borrowing it," she says, shrugging as if that’s a perfectly valid excuse. “It was left unattended in the command room.” I sink lower into the car seat. Yeah. Not getting away with this. “Hawk wanted us to analyze the layout for a reason,” she continues. “He’s had intelligence drafting up mock blueprints of the building.” She turns the tablet toward me. “That door you saw? It leads to the private floor. I spotted the tinted windows running the full length above the bar - it’s small. I’d say a bathroom, judging by the piping running up the walls. Maybe an office and a seating area. The square footage isn’t big enough for much else… unless it’s all open plan.” I curse myself for ever brushing off Blitz’s background in architecture. She’s just saved this mission from turning into a complete shit show.
“Here… this street is your entry point. You’ll be heading through the back entrance to access the fire exit door. From the maps, the exterior stairs look modified, built for a quick escape if necessary. When we arrived, I noticed the smoking area veers off to the side of the building - use that to your advantage. Stick to the shadows.” I nod. That shouldn’t be a problem. “I broughtthis,” I say, holding the device up from my bag at her feet. Blitz grins. “Black Hornet Nano.” I nod as she drags the map up again. “There’s a vent above the roof,” she continues. “We can send this in, see where it leads - monitor the activity. Can’t have come all this way just for him to be missing. That would piss on my parade. Don’t know about you.”
“He’ll be here, and anyways, I was planning on planting a detonator on the private floor,” I say, certainty threading through my voice. “And I just know he’s here. Call it intuition."
She sighs. "As much as I have every faith in your abilities, Nyx, I’m not down for whims. Let’s set this fucker up. Bypass the detonator for now, I’ll be your eyes in the sky. Wait for my signal before you engage.”
Fifteen minutes in, I’m crouched behind a dumpster, waiting for Blitz to crackle through my earpiece. We’re sending the nano drone through the vent - straight into the club. First priority: identifying Nocturne. Then, we’ll pull back and I’ll investigate the private floor. "I'm in," Blitz's voice comes through. I exhale, tension momentarily easing as my finger hovers over my suppressed pistol. Slowly, I rise, peering around the corner to scope out the smoking area. A dozen or so people lounge about, loud, drunk, and oblivious. No security lingers near the front - at least none edging close enough to be a problem. The stairway is thankfully just outside the reach of the exterior lights. But the first landing? It catches the corner glow. That’s going to be a problem.
"Shit." Blitz’s whisper through the earpiece, making my blood spike. "What?" I duck lower, letting the metal container block my voice. “Volokov’s here.” Fan-fucking-tastic.
“Maybe I can get ahead of the game? Take him out. Two for one. I can load them both up and set off-”
Blitz doesn’t appreciate the joke. I’d go as far as to say she nearly has a mini heart attack as she cuts off my plan B. "Are youcrazy? Hell no, Nyx. Not alone. Don’t make me come over there and drag your ass back to base." I scoff.
"Fine. Just Noc. Have you seen him yet?" Silence. She’s still scanning, maneuvering the tiny military-grade drone through the interior. It’s perfect for missions like this - small, silent, and practically invisible in the low lighting and dark décor. If Nocturne’s here, we’ll find him.
"Got him, I think. Sending you an image." My pulse pounds in my ears. "He’s headed through the back. With a blonde." My eyes nearly roll out of their sockets and onto the ground. She’s definitely his new plaything. The thought lingers, and it's unwelcome. My mind drifts, picturing his hands all over her and an ugly spike of jealousy surges through my veins, but I shut it down. I cannot be jealous. I’m about to kill him.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it free, screen lighting up, and there they are. She’s leading him through the back, weaving between the bar’s shadowed edges, hand in hand. "That’s him," I confirm, my voice steady despite the storm inside me, grip tightening like a vice as the image burns my retinas. “They’re likely in the lounge. You have thirty minutes before I need to retreat through the vent. Go.”
I waste no time. Rising to my feet, my body pressed against the walls, moving toward the stairs. The mesh fence is double-lined - if these clubbers are drunk enough, they won’t notice me slipping past. I grip the inside of the banister, keeping my profile low, minimizing the light that catches me as I ascend. I scan below, their attention is distracted enough, allowing me to push forward. I pause at the darkest section, watching for any flicker of reaction to a shadowed figure in their midst. When the chatter continues undisturbed, I move again. Until a voice rings out from below, making my foot hover on the next step.
I freeze, muscles coiling tight, hand instinctively lowering to my gun as my gaze flicks downwards. A beat passes by, andmy shoulders loosen. It’s just someone messing around. The rest of the stairway is effortless with no more close calls. The shadows stretch deep enough that I remain unseen. I pull on the balaclava, grip the flexible spreader from my belt, and gently wedge it into the fire door, prying it open carefully. “Heading in, going dark.” I confirm to Blitz.
“On the watch.” she responds.
I grip my gun in my leathered gloved hand, aiming it low as my other hand lets the door gently click closed behind me. I pull a tactical inspection mirror from my belt, checking the layout. The hallway channels straight down to what appears to be an open area, I can see the corner of a bar stretching out beyond the curtained threshold. I creep out slowly, holding my breath whilst my pulse hammers through me.
Leaning against the wall, I come to a door which leads to a room facing onto the dance floor. The sign is the same as the door downstairs - a glowing V. It’s slightly ajar, so I move cautiously across to the other side and peer in from my position - a good old slicing the pie. There are cabinets on the wall. I crouch down, using the mirror again to slowly slide it inside. It’s the office. A black leather sofa faces a large wooden desk. The room is empty – thankfully. The back wall is all glass, the blacked-out windows Blitz spotted.
Pocketing the mirror, I continue my measured approach to the central area. There’s another door just a couple feet away from my position on the opposite wall. I stalk towards it, leaning my ear against the cold, wooden surface. Silence. Advancing, I don't waste a minute, and it might be a fatal error when I don’t know what's waiting for me, but I’ll deal with it should it arise. I reach the curtains that hang over the archway, and I’m frozen on my next step, pinned in place the minute I recognize the sound. Low, heavy breathing mixing with wet, sloppy kisses. My griptightens around the Glock, and I force my trigger finger to point down the barrel.
I edge the rest of the way forward, reaching my hand out to the material, slowly parting it. Through the gap in the thick material, the darkened seating area comes into view. It’s a private lounge. The bar stretches along the far wall, sleek and covered in black, bathed in low purple lighting - just like the VIP section. The same tinted windows from the office continue along the left side. In the center, a cubed black velvet sofa forms a perfect square. And that’s where my focus locks. Noc sits in the middle, his side profile to me, arms fanned out wide. His little blonde is straddled on his lap, her lips trailing his neck whilst he stares straight ahead. She clings to him like he’s the only thing in the world that matters, grinding up against him.
That earlier jealousy threatens to claw its way back, tangled with a storm of feeling I’m struggling to control or even name. Just a couple more minutes. Then I can uncap my emotions next to the naked flame – let them blow. I go to aim my gun, but she breaks away. The blonde surprises me when speaks in English. “Let me go freshen up.” Fuck. Do I take her out? No. That’s a sure way to be labelled a bitter ex. I slip into the empty office, moving fast but keeping my footsteps light, rushing through the door. I adjust it quickly, exactly as it was before.
Pressing my body against the back wall, I steady my breathing, heart hammering as I listen to her brash footsteps, followed by a thumb that vibrates on the wall next to me, signaling she’s close. "Oops." Her drunk ass must have bumped into a wall. I hear the door opposite opening, then a soft click as it closes. Waiting a couple seconds until the silence falls back over, I reopen my door, checking the hallway and creeping toward the room she’s entered. There's aclank, the unmistakable sound of a toilet seat going up. It’s a bathroom.If I make it out, I need to kiss Blitz feet with how precise her observations are.
My hand presses against the door, the weight of my suspicion settling in the stillness. It’s a small, floor-length mirror with lights around it in front of me with two cubicles off to the right. I position myself between the cubicle doors - and I wait. The flush fills the room, the left door creaking open and that’s when I pounce. Surging forward with calculated veracity, she doesn’t get a chance to scream. I clamp my hand over her mouth, yank her by the hair, locking her in a chokehold as I press her back to my front.
She tries to fight me. Cute. She’s so drunk her movements are sloppy and disconnected. Good, she’ll stay down longer and go out quicker. Her arms eventually go limp, and I hold her for a couple more seconds, then drop her with a little more force than necessary into the cubicle and shut the door. Wedging it with a doorstop. It won’t trap her completely, but with how she'll feel when she wakes up - she'll have a little bit of a struggle. I do a quick check when I look back into the hallways, the office door remains how I left it. I check my watch and see I’ve got just over ten minutes. Still in control. Still on course.
I move through the hallways with effortless grace - like a creature built for the hunt. Silent. Certain. Deadly. Stalking its prey. Noc sits exactly where I expected, one arm draped lazily along the side, the other lifting a cigarette to his lips. Smoke coils through the air, curling around him like remnants of some infernal escape. I prowl towards him, thankful I can’t see his face, if I could? The doubt might creep in, causing me to trip up. And I can’t afford it, not after everything he’s done. His eyes have always been his deadliest weapon, especially against me. Just as his arm rests along the sofa, I raise my gun, pressing the barrel to the back of his head.
He doesn't flinch. That’s when I look up towards the windows, realizing he's been watching my reflection. “Good to see you've been working on that footwork, Malyshka. But I'd know your scent anywhere.” His voice is calm, too calm for a man with a gun to his head. I force out a low laugh, done with the balaclava as I remove it. No point in hiding now. “I learned from the best, didn't I?” My eyes remain locked to the back of his head, but I canfeelit - feel the heat of his stare licking over my skin.
Even without direct eye contact, he still gets under my skin. “Dare I ask what you've done with Natalia?”So, that’s her name. Hearing him say it twists something deep inside me I don’t want to acknowledge. Makes me tighten the grip on my gun. The fact that he cares what happens to her makes something ugly rise in my chest. My emotions are slipping, and the eruption is coming.
“Don't worry, yourgirlfriendisn’t dead. She's having a nice little nap in the bathroom - too many margaritas.” That earns me a rumble from deep in his chest as he rises to his feet.Fuck. I can't look at him. My cool demeanor will disintegrate through my already slippy fingers, my control already beginning to fray at the edges. Noc rises to his feet, walking towards the windows, and stands in the middle of the room - my gun remains trained on his head.
My eyes, on their own accord - risk a glance. And he's staring right at me. The heat in me spikes, rising in my chest and clawing through my resolve. I snap my eyes back to the back of his head, an area I’ve deemed safe - it's bearable there. “Oh Brodie, do I detect a hint of jealousy in that tone of yours? Kinda hot.” I tut - an immature response. But I'm fighting to keep it together here, so if that’s all my brain can conjure up, then so be it.
