𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥'𝐬 𝐒𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 | 𝟏𝟖+

36

After two weeks of meticulous planning, intense training, and enough firepower to arm a small militia, it's time to bring the fight to Ramirez's doorstep.

I watch as Damien makes the call to the Omerta's, his voice deadly serious. "We're moving in," he says simply.

The past nights have been a blur of activity, we hunkered down at Luis's compound as we prepared. Going over every scrap of intel Mr. Weaver could get his hands on. But now, the waiting is over. It's time to unleash hell.

Damien and I head to our room to gear up, a silent understanding passing between us. This is it, the moment we've been waiting for. The chance to avenge our daughters and bring their killers to their knees.

I strap on my bulletproof vest with shaking hands. Damien double-checks the straps, his fingers lingering on my shoulders. "You stay close to me out there, you hear?" he murmurs, his eyes staring into mine. "We do this together."

I nod, grabbing my rifle, the one Damien trained me on until I could hit a target dead center from 500 yards. It feels like an extension of my body, now a deadly tool honed for one purpose - to kill Alonzo Ramirez and his entire cartel.

The crew assembles on the tarmac. We load up onto Damien's jet, the mood somber and focused. There's no joking, no pre-mission banter. As the plane takes off, I feel sick with anxiety.

I clench my fists until my nails bite into my palms. A short time later, we touch down at a private hangar just outside of Tucson, a fleet of blacked-out SUVs waiting for us on the tarmac.

Damien and I climb into the lead vehicle, our earpieces crackling to life as Rome's voice comes through.

"Alright," he barks, all business. "The chopper just sent back the compound's coordinates. We're going in quiet until we get the signal. Snipers, you're up first. Take out the watchtowers and any roaming patrols. Once the perimeter is clear, demo teams move in."

Damien's jaw is clenched tight as he listens, his hand finding mine and squeezing hard. "We hold back until the chaos hits," he reminds me. "Then we go straight in for Alonzo. You stick to me like glue, you got it?"

I can only nod, my heart beating fast.

︻デ═一

We're speeding through the Arizona desert, a convoy of black cars kicking up clouds of dust in our wake. The night sky stretches out above us, an endless expanse of stars and inky darkness. But I barely notice the beauty of it all, my mind laser-focused on the task at hand.

As we approach the Ramirez compound, we slow to a crawl, headlights flicking off one by one. Damien's voice crackles over the comms, "We've got two security checkpoints to clear before we can get into position."

I grip my rifle tighter, my palms slick with sweat inside my gloves. We abandon the vehicles about a hundred yards out from the compound, taking cover in the scrubby brush and towering cacti that dot the landscape. Damien and I crouch side by side, shoulders brushing as we wait for the signal to move in.

The first checkpoint looms ahead, a guardhouse manned by two bored-looking guards. But we know better than to underestimate them - Ramirez's men are trained killers, every last one of them.

Damien makes a series of quick hand gestures, his fingers flashing in the moonlight. Two of our guys peel off from the group, creeping forward with predatory grace. They move like shadows, silent and deadly as they close in on their unsuspecting prey.

There's a muffled thump, a choked-off cry, and then... silence. The guards crumple to the ground. Two silenced shots are all it takes. Quick, clean, efficient.