Page 54 of The Diávolos: Part Two
I look at Xander and Dion who both have looks of unease on their faces. “It’s time.”
This is the dreadful moment we’ve been waiting for.
The next thirty minutes are a blur. We round up the troops and pack our weapons into our cars. Right after hanging up, Xander sent a message to Elias to meet us at the restaurant with our soldiers. He then contacted our main hacker and asked him to gather intel using the truck’s license plate that he sent over to us at rapid speed.
When we step outside, a flank of men is waiting to head to the border.
I’ve kept my eyes on the feed the whole time and the truck is back on the road, now about an hour away from Antium. The information we received about the trafficking operation was chillingly accurate, and now it’s a race against time. But they don’t stand a chance, and will never get away with us on their tail and Hendrick waiting for them at the border. Hen will make sure to bring enough transportation to take the girls back to the shelter in Antium.
We start our route, speeding down the highway to catch up with them.
Soon, we catch sight of the truck. I call Hendrick. “I’ve got eyes on the cargo.”
“We’re geared up. They’re not getting past us.”
When we finally get closer to the truck, my heart races as I clutch the pistol grip of my M16. Behind us, four other vehicles, driven by the rest of the team, follow closely. Elias presses harder on the gas pedal, the engine roaring in response. As we close in on the van, the men inside begin swerving dangerously, trying to force us off the road.
Dion’s voice pierces through my earpiece. “The motherfuckers are going to crash!”
I grit my teeth, keeping focus on the path ahead. “Elias, get close to the car on the left.”
He does as I say and veers to the side. Now, I’m right next to the driver. “Pull the fuck over,” I bark at him. But the man only looks at me and laughs.Piece of shit.I’m going to kill him and fucking enjoy it.
A surge of adrenaline runs through my veins. I lower the window all the way and squeeze my body through the opening, far enough to reach the truck. Taking my rifle, I use the barrel to bang on his window. “Stop the fucking car!” I shout. He ignores me.
“Xan, speed ahead and cut them off. Now!” I yell through my earpiece. My knuckles have turned white from clenching my weapon.
In unison, our convoy moves with synchronized precision, avoiding cars of civilians as we box the truck in, bringing it to a screeching halt.
Everything erupts in chaos. Doors slam, and my soldiers pour out, weapons drawn. I lead the charge, my heart poundingin my ears. A cacophony of swears and threats fill the air when the traffickers realize their escape has been thwarted.
“Don’t get any closer or we’ll blow up the entire truck,” one of them screams.
Calling his bluff, I walk up to the driver’s window. He tries to knock me down with the door, but I dodge his attempt. I sling the M16 on my back and reach into the vehicle, pulling out the son of a bitch onto the ground. Stepping on his throat with my thick boot, I pull out a knife—my preferred weapon of choice—and crouch down. The other man jumps out of the truck and approaches us, his gun aimed straight at me.
At that same moment, another group of vehicles arrives on the scene, creating a barricade on the road to avoid any other casualties, and Hendrick gets out and fires a warning shout into the air, momentarily freezing my assailant. It’s the exact opening we needed. Dion tackles him from behind, tying his wrists together. The driver’s desperate pleas echo in the surrounding area, the sound of his urgent cries giving me a fucking headache. “Will you please shut the fuck up,” I spit before kneeling and slashing his neck, silencing him forever. His blood sprays all over me, but I couldn’t care less.
I leave him to die on the ground and approach the cargo hold. The sight makes my blood boil. Young faces, filled with fear, stare back at me. “Don’t worry, girls. You’re safe now. We’ll take you home.”
I instruct my men to gently move the terrified girls into their vehicles and to start heading back to the shelter.
I turn around and find Hendrick talking to a woman I’ve never seen before. Puzzled, I quicken my pace to join them.
As I get closer, I can't help but notice the girl subtly cowering when she catches sight of me.
“Who’s this?” I ask Hendrick.
He gestures toward her. “This is Marysol. I brought her with me to help make the girls feel more comfortable. They’ll probably be scared of men for a while.”
I nod, tilting my head to the side. Hen murmurs something in Spanish to her, but I can’t catch it. She relaxes a little bit, still eyeing me warily. The softness with which he interacts with the woman gives away the truth. She’s important to him. “Where did you meet?” Hendrick’s face tenses, his eyes piercing into mine as if to say,don’t fucking ask me that question. But I keep prying instead. “I’ve never heard you talk about her before.”
He sighs in defeat and responds through gritted teeth, “I rescued her.”
Ah. She must be the eighteen-year-old Puerto Rican that was found at the club a few weeks ago.
“Mary has been helping us on rescue missions to comfort the little ones,” he adds, a soft smile spreading on his face.
Mary, huh? I can see right through the fucker.
