Page 61 of Daddy Enforcer
There have been so many high-risk missions at this point that I’ve lost track.
Point is, I’m not afraid to die, not if it means Billie’s safe, free from Trent’s shadow, free to live that normal life he dreams of.
But I want to come back to Billie, to build that playroom, to see him run around with those dogs, to be his Daddy forever.
That’s the dream I’m fighting for.
That’s the future I’m willing to kill for.
That’s my motivation, even above doing my job as a loyal Guard.
I grip my rifle tighter, anchoring myself to the present, to the mission that’ll make that future possible.
My comms crackle, Mr. G’s voice cutting through.
“Targets are minutes out,” Mr. G says. “Black SUVs, three vehicles, approaching from the north. Stay sharp.”
His tone’s clipped, all business, and I feel the adrenaline spike, my senses sharpening.
“Copy that,” I reply, glancing at Cole and Connor.
They nod, their postures shifting, ready to move.
The triggers are set, the surveillance locked in—motion sensors on the main road, cameras hacked from the warehouse security grid, all feeding real-time data to Mr. G’s team.
We’ve got the advantage, but it’s a narrow window.
Trent and the Varkovs are walking into a trap, but one wrong move, and we’re the ones caught.
I settle into position, my rifle scope trained on the road where the SUVs will appear. The fantasy of Billie’s playroom lingers, a soft light in the back of my mind, but I push it down, focusing on the cold metal in my hands, the faint hum of the city beyond the district.
This is it—the moment we end Trent, end the Varkovs, end the threat that’s been hanging over my Little since this started.
I’m ready, and so are Cole and Connor. We’re Night Ops men, and we don’t miss.
Minutes tick by, each one heavy, the warehouse district silent except for the distant hum of the city.
I’m still in position. Ready and waiting. It’ll be time soon, and then there will truly be no turning back.
The security triggers we set—motion sensors, tripwires—are live, feeding data to Mr. G’s team, who’re watching through hacked cams.
My mind keeps trying to drift to Billie, to that playroom I want to build him, those dogs chasing him in a sunny backyard, but I force it back, my grip tightening on the rifle.
Then, headlights cut through the afternoon haze, and three black SUVs roll into view, turning and parking outside the large warehouse across the street.
Trent and the Varkov generals, right on schedule.
My pulse kicks up, adrenaline flooding my veins.
My comms crackle, Mr. G’s voice sharp.
“Mission is a go. Execute,” Mr. G says, his voice calm but full of intent.
No hesitation, no questions—just the green light we’ve been waiting for.
I glance at Cole and Connor, their nods silent but sure.
We move like shadows, slipping from behind the container, our boots soundless on the gravel as we approach the warehouse from the rear.
