SCARLET
The wedding reception was taking place at one of their supposedly secret hideouts on the outskirts of the city.
Miraculously, we hadn’t lost any of our men back at my father’s old house, and Motshan had been the only one to get hurt on his side. That meant we were pretty well off with people. Finn had sent another dozen or so of our men to this location. So with them, plus everyone that was at the old manor home, we were going in about forty strong.
Granted, there were about a hundred people at this wedding reception, but we came with all sorts of fun toys to play with, which meant we weren’t going to solely rely on guns and knives.
“We keep about fifteen men out here, stationed at all of the possible doorways,” Tristan said as we all stood around the corner of the building next to the Mad Dawgs’. “We go up to the windows on either side, breaking them and quickly throwing in the grenades. You get the fuck away from those windows quickly. I don’t want any stupid casualties today.”
“And then once the smoke is cleared, we get to go in and kill anyone that’s left standing, right?” I asked, causing most of the men to glance in my direction with wary eyes. A lot of the men were new and had only heard stories about how I could get a little bloodthirsty when put in the right situation. I’m sure it was a little more off-putting to see it in person.
“Yes, poppet,” Tristan said, smiling in my direction before opening up the multiple duffel bags the guys had brought from Finn.
They were filled to the brim with grenades, sniper rifles, machine guns, and even a flamethrower.
“I will fight anyone that tries to take that flamethrower from me,” Sebastian said, grabbing it before I could even think to get my hands on it.
“Not fair!” I pouted. “You at least have to let me have a turn!”
“Jesus Christ,” Elliot sighed, picking up his choice of weapons, trying to hide a smile.
Once everyone was heavily armed, we made our way around the other building, and the fifteen men that were the best sharpshooters got into their positions around the building. They were far enough away that anyone trying to escape wouldn’t be able to see them waiting in the shadows. But they were close enough to not miss a single shot.
I tossed a grenade in the air and caught it on its way back down, and Elliot looked over at me with a disapproving look in his eyes. I just shrugged and jogged up to Tristan.
“Who am I hanging out with?” I asked him, wondering who was going to be saddled with babysitting me. I knew by now that they weren’t going to let me get out of sight of at least one of them in a situation like this.
“Why don’t you hang out with me this time?” he suggested, bumping my shoulder with his own.
“I guess I can do that. Just make sure you don’t slow me down.”
We all went silent as we surrounded the building, getting into position next to the main windows. There was music and conversation filling the air, and for a moment, I almost felt guilty.
The girl that got married today didn’t ask for this to happen. She didn’t ask to be born into a gang filled with stupid-ass men who batted above their paygrade. But the moment I let thoughts like that start forming would be the moment I couldn’t do my job anymore.
This wasn’t personal. It was business.
They had fucked with us, so we would fuck with them. And we wouldn’t let there be a chance that they could volley back. We were done playing around. And those assholes inside had kidnapped me, beaten the shit out of me, and treated me worse than you would treat livestock.
And I would be happy to watch the blood leak from their fucking bodies.
“Ready?” Tristan asked, grabbing my attention.
“Ready.”
“Sound off starting with first position,” he said over the walkie, and we sat there as each person sounded off that they were in position and awaiting the countdown. Once everyone was accounted for, Tristan nodded, and my body lit up with adrenaline as he began the countdown.
“On my count. Three, two, one.”
Windows crashed and broke all around us as we used the butts of our guns to blow them out. The people inside that noticed let out surprised screams. And once we threw in the grenades and ran out of the blast zone, more and more people were panicking.
A few ran out of the building at the same time that the blasts started, and they fell to the ground instantly as our sharpshooters picked them off one by one. It was like the beaches of fucking Normandy, only this time, the ones that with the advantage were the good guys, and we weren’t going to be overtaken.
The smoke cleared, and Tristan yelled over the radio that it was time. All at once, we began jumping through the broken glass and shooting at anyone in sight. Bodies were dropping left and right, blood running thick around our feet. There were bodies with missing limbs and splattered gore in a halo around them from the blasts.
I pushed over a table filled with food, regretting that such amazing desserts were going to go to waste. I crouched behind it as I reloaded. When I carefully popped back up, I got off a few shots before Tristan joined me.
“You look beautifully wild,” he said, taking a moment to kiss me before popping up and getting off a round of his own shots. “We caught them completely off guard. They’re barely armed.”
I smiled and peeked around the table to get off a few more shots. I was keeping an eye out for anyone I recognized. It wasn’t that I needed to be the one to kill the men that had taken me and tortured me, but it would be nice to get at least one of them.
“Three o’clock,” Tristan said from my side. “That guy was in charge of one of the safe houses you were kept at before we rescued you.”
“Cover me.”
I didn’t even think about it. I found him, dressed to the nines in his suit and tie, holding a pistol that I was sure was almost out of bullets. He was trying to hide behind the corner of a giant fireplace, but it was too small and barely covered him from view. I rolled over to sit under the table next to us and then crawled behind knocked-over tables and over dead bodies until I was close enough that I could make it to the opposite side of the fireplace.
“Hey!” I shouted around the corner and over the gunfire. He peeked out and paled when he saw me. “I see you remember me!”
“Bitch,” he said, moving to point his gun in my direction.
Before he could even get it halfway up, I shot him in the chest. He fell backwards, and his gun went flying across the tiled floor.
“You guys really, really like calling me anything but my actual name,” I said, standing over him. “And I find it rude. You’re taking the time to treat me like scum on the bottom of your fucking shoe, you could at least get my name right.”
His eyes were half-lidded, and the life behind them was fading fast. I knew I was drawing it out, and I shouldn’t be making Tristan cover me out in the open like I was, even though it really seemed like most of them were dead already. I just couldn’t help myself.
I placed my boot on his chest wound, and he groaned, his eyes flying open in fear and pain to look up at me.
“That’s better,” I told him, pointing my gun at his face. “I like it when my prey acknowledges they’ve lost.”
And then I fired.