Trapping Sophia (Disciples 6)

Thankfully, I have an idea of how to shape my C-4 charges so they won’t cause a total collapse into the basement.

Or at least, I think I do.

Trailing the cordage back behind me, I set up the detonator so that it’s at the end of the stairs.

I’d love to go hang out in the safe room and watch on the monitor while I blow this shit up, but I don’t have that kind of time.

Running back to the safe room one last time, I yank a shirt over my head and sit down to put on my boots. With the clock ticking in my head and the sinking feeling of Sophia being driven further and further away from me, I don’t bother trying to get dressed in full assault gear.

I slap on a Kevlar vest, grab my M4A1 assault rifle, two Glocks, and an extra magazine for each.

Attaching what I need to my body, I almost feel like I’m back in the military, getting ready to head into a special ops mission.

My hands jitter for a few seconds as I watch the security monitor. I’ve got seven cops in the house and they’re all converging on the rubble of the basement door. They’ve searched the rest of the house and figured out where I am.

It was only a matter of time.

Suddenly a small meow comes from beyond the open door to the safe room and I nearly have a fucking heart attack.

“You motherfucker!” I growl at Sophia’s cat.

Stomping angrily to the cat, I try to remember the recipe I learned over in the sandbox, when Mitzy starts to whine at me.

“Don’t tell me you like this fucking thing,” I snap at Mitzy.

Grabbing Fluffers roughly by the back of her neck, I yank her up into my arms. This fucking fluffball is what caused all this shit, and she’s just fucking chilling here without a fucking care in the world.

My hands just fucking ache to break her fucking neck. Like I can actually fucking feel all her little bones and cartilage snapping.

Dropping Fluffers next to Mitzy, I glare down at her. “Bitch, you and me are going to have a long talk after all this is over.”

Checking the security screen one last time, I see that it’s go time. They’ve got two guys digging in the steps, and I doubt it will take them long to open it up enough to drop a couple grenades down here.

Looking back at Mitzy and Fluffers, I can’t do much but shut the door to the safe room. I’ll be back for them.

Hopefully.

Taking a long, deep breath, I shove earplugs into my ears and get into position.

Can’t be a good daddy if I can’t hear the baby crying.

Squatting down beside the detonator, I turn my head away from the stairwell and get a sudden case of the chuckles.

“Boom time.”

Pushing the button down, there’s a split second before the world explodes in a deafening roar of rubble and highly energized shit going haywire.

I’d be lying if I said this didn’t give me a slight boner.

Moving quickly, I start to rush up the stairs.

I get to the second step before I’m flung backward by a giant blast of fire and heat coming from upstairs.

What. The. Fuck.

For a third time today I find myself at the bottom of the stairs, pondering just exactly how the fuck I got here.

“Gas line,” I gasp out once the heat starts to dissipate.

Fuck.

Thank god the safe room has an independent air and water supply. That gas eruption and the C-4 aren’t going to do shit to the room… but holy fuck. I wonder just how much of the house I have left upstairs.

I have safety shit everywhere to prevent a total catastrophic failure… So we should be good... I hope.

Standing up from the floor, I shake my head and move quickly up the stairs. If the first explosion didn’t take out some of the assholes, I’m sure that second one got at least a couple.

Glancing down at my M4A1 assault rifle, I wince. No wonder my back hurts like I got fucking hit with a baseball bat. The damn thing is bent and fractured.

Shit.

That’s going to make things a bit harder.

Stopping to drop the useless rifle, I wonder for a moment how exactly these fuckers found their way here.

Simon scrubbed the existence of this house from the public registry. Sophia and I weren’t tailed here when we made our getaway.

There’s only a few things that could have happened.

We could have a fucking rat.

Amanda could have given out our location.

Or someone fucked up and got tailed.

Pulling a Glock from my under-the-arm holster, I take off the safety and finish making my way up the stairs.

Now is not the time to worry about how they got here. I can worry about it later.

After I’ve killed them all.