The inky dark of the sky could have been fear-inducing in any other scenario. However, as we all gathered by the corner of a street, camouflaged by the lack of light, it felt more like a blanket of safety. The black attire we all shared merged with the night, and each of us were trained so that our steps were no louder than the blowing of the wind. We were one with the night and we belonged to it's darkness.
I lead my men forward, acting as their armor and their view. If anyone sees us coming, I'll be going down first. I never understood leaders who don't go into battle, who send their men to die and watch comfortably from a distance. I'll never understand watching your people die at your command and not even taking a part in it. I am my men and the weight of my orders will fall on my shoulders as well.
So we move forward at my lead, my pace, my command. They stop as I stop, disperse when I signal them to and wait for my signal when we finally arrive at the wretched house. Mateo is to my right and Nicolas stands behind me on the left. Our breaths are whispers to the wind, asking it to guide us as we walk into the slaughterhouse. It's chilly today, just enough that my fingers tingle and my cheeks pick up every gust with acute sensitivity.
For a few seconds after we finish positioning in our spots, I look around. The horror of the house is stronger in person. Its windows, the dead bushes, the torn-off railing—just looking at it makes the mind scream to run away. Those who live close move away and those who saw us coming, look away.
For a single moment I'm taken back to my street fighting days in America, where eyes could not see and ears did not listen and mouths would not speak. A time where I was just one of many shadows. My heart beats at a steady rhythm that with the serenity of the night, I can feel. I let it it wash away the worries in my mind and raise my hand with the signal to move.
Gabriel and Veronica pad up the stairs, holding their guns out as they each flank one side of the door. As soon as their position is taken, Diego follows suit, kneeling in front of the door with his lock pick.
Nicolas and Mateo make their way to the first step and I wait at the ground. They meet my eyes and I nod once before stomping a foot on the ground. The sound of my foot hitting the ground travels down the block and overpowers the wind and our breaths and any whispers in between. Diego pushes the door open and the creak as it widens to fit our bodies steals every bit of air.
Diego moves in, clearing out the entrance as Nicolas and Mateo follow behind. I walk in after them, moving ahead everyone as I clear the next section. Inside smells like smoke and mold, with the wallpapers tearing at various points in each wall. There's signs of use, like the boi-reeree, boi-reeree, boi-reeree of the bathroom faucet, or the faint smell of onions coming from the kitchen.
Yet, the evidence of abandonment is also there; coat of dust on the entrance shoe rack and a broken painting hanging off one corner above the fireplace. Two men staring at winged creatures fighting, or winged creatures taking people or something along those lines. The painting was dusty and the room was dark and I couldn't bring myself to keep looking. So, I focus my attention on the ground. I kick aside a piano key as Nicolas meets me at the living room. He takes in the space, allowing the softest of sighs before shaking his head. She's not here. Not in this floor.
We walk to the second floor stairs and wait for everyone to meet us there. I listen to the bathroom faucet drip and the way the sound bounces off every rotten piece of wood. The eeriness of the house makes my bones chill. When we finally reunite I signal to the top of the stairs and a collective nod lets me know everyone got the message. Clear the area, kill everyone, take Daniela.
I go up the stairs first, making every step light as a feather to avoid the groaning sounds of wood. It takes a few minutes before we're all up the stairs. I move left, guiding myself with the little moonlight as I search for any guards. Diego and Gabriel follow behind me, the soft patters of our steps like a drumroll.
The first door we encounter is shut and I look behind to make sure I'm covered before turning the knob and slipping inside. I'm barely halfway in before the rustle of movement to my left makes my hand shoot out. Cold metal touches my palm and I react with only enough time to not have my hand blown off. The bullet flies right over my shoulder and the door slams into the man with enough force to make him stumble.
Well, there goes the silent approach. All that tiptoeing up the stairs means jack shit now.
I pull out a blade, slide over to the man and slash his neck. The blood flicks to the ground and on my hand, its warmth like liquid fire on my cold skin. Gabriel reaches out to stop his heavy fall, placing him on the ground with a muted thud.
We scatter out of the room. Now that a sound went off, it's a race against time. We've killed our only advantage.
The heavy sounds of blood dropping from my knife follow behind as I waltz into the next room. The man twirls to face me upon my arrival with frantic eyes, a clip in one hand and a seemingly unloaded gun in the next. Maybe our advantage isn't so dead.
I shoot forward, knocking the gun off his hand and plunging the knife into his throat, right through the vocal cords. His hands drops the clip and go for his bleeding throat. I push him back and he falls, the blood painting the sheets of the bed.
The three of us walk back toward the stairs, toward the others. Veronica leans against the wall, her gun hanging from her hand. She straightens as we come closer. Mateo comes out of the room, the tips of his fingers soaked in blood. Nicolas, coming out right behind him, holds up one finger, to which I respond with holding up two. So far, three are down.
We have no idea how many are left.
When we saw the layout of the house, there were five bedrooms on the second floor. Two must have been used to keep Daniela and Jessica. The other three were for the guards to sleep. We already found those three. Now we have to figure out which of the two holds Daniela.
As if reading my mind, Mateo points behind him. It'd be the only direction. My side of the house only had three doors, one of them being the bathroom, as discovered by Diego. I nod at Mateo and take the lead, holding my knife out in front of me. We walk up to the next door and I hold my breath as I turn the door knob.
Nothing. It's empty inside. Only a twin sized mattress laying on the floor and a blanket bunched on top. Not even a pillow. There's a small bloodstain on the wall and my stomach roils. This must have been Jessica's room.
I walk out and shake my head. They get the message. She's not there. I take the lead again for the next room. Mateo walks closer to me this time. I know he feels it. We all feel it. A suffocating tension that twists my skin and makes my fingers throb. I feel my pulse everywhere. This is it. This has to be it.
I wrap my hand around the knob of the last possible door. Slowly, it moves... moves... moves... locks. The door is locked. I gulp. I don't even have to listen to the rustling on the other side of the door to know our cover is blown. We need to act fast. If they feel cornered they might put Daniela in danger.
I take a step to the side and Diego rushed to the door, tearing it open with a single kick. Everyone gets ready behind me. I move in, knife out and ready to slash.
My head snaps back and pain shoots up my face. I curse, holding a hand to my bleeding nose as someone lunges for my attacker. I didn't see that one coming. My knife is useless in my hand as I try my best to refocus my vision. That punch was packed with power. I'm surprised I'm even conscious right now. The commotion in the background grows louder with every passing second, but I'm unable to concentrate. I stumble and my back eventually hits the wall. Get it together, Anastasia. I shake my head, if only for the illusion of composure, and start moving again.
Nicolas is at the edge of the stairs, shooting down at the lower level. Veronica and Gabriel hold their guns out toward the entrance of the room. I go in and am met with Mateo and Diego wrestling one man to the ground. One man that could easily count for ten. A fucking beast more like. His head nearly touched the goddamned ceiling.
Mateo holds one of his arms back with both of his as Diego struggles to pry the gun off his other hand. The beast purposely stumbles about, shaking them around like rag dolls. I pull my gun out of my thigh holster and shoot a bullet through his head. Blood splatters the wall, Mateo and Diego. The beast goes down, his body falling like cutting the cords off a marionette.
I huff, touching my nose to wipe off some of the flowing blood. Motherfucker. That'll leave a bruise. I should've made him suffer. Assailant or not.
Mateo barely spares a moment to wipe the blood off his own face, sprinting across the room. I turn to where he ran and remember why we even came. Sitting in a corner of the room, hands clutched to her chest, is a little girl. Her clothes and face are dirty, her eyes are red with tears and her cheeks puffy from crying. Mateo stops far enough to give her space, falling slowly to a kneel. Making himself smaller for her sake.
"Dani?" he coos. Both hands stay at his sides, but I watch as his fingers twitch with anticipation. "It's me. Mateo."
Daniela stares at him, eyes wide and full of a caution no girl her age should ever know. I keep quiet, despite wanting to rush the hell out of this so we can go home. Who knows if there's more of them.
The rest start trickling in, going no father than the doorframe. We all watch as Daniela pushed herself to her knees and crawls to Mateo. For a moment, she stays there, staring at his face with concentration. Her mouth opens and closes a few times before finally uttering a single word.
"Mat?"
Her face crumbles and she lets him wrap her hands around her. He runs his fingers through her hair and rubs her back, rocking his body as she wails in his arms. She only repeats his name over and over, like a prayer. One that, by the look in her face, has been answered.
I turn back around, jutting my chin toward the hallway. Everyone steps back and Diego comes out behind me, leaving the siblings to reunite in peace.
I direct my attention to Diego. "Call the drivers. Tell them we'll be there in fifteen minutes. To get ready."
He nods, stepping away to follow through with the order.
"Did anyone check the basement?"
"I did," Gabriel answers. "When we were clearing the ground floor. Nothing but blood and a chair there. No other exits, no windows, nothing. I even checked floorboards, looked for hidden doors, false walls. Nothing. Just a plain old torture basement."
"Good." I look back to the room. Daniela has her arms around Mateo, too. She seems calmer now. "Let's give 'em a few minutes then wrap it up. I want to get out of here."
Nicolas blows out a breath. "I think we deserve to sleep for a week straight after this."
"Yeah," Veronica closes her eyes. "Make that two."
"But it was worth it," Gabriel sighs, his attention on the pair in the room. "He needed this."
"He did," I mumble. "And I need sleep. Time's up. Hey, Mat." I stop at the doorway as he looks up. "We should get going now. It's not safe here."
He nods, standing up and then helping his sister to her feet. She clings to him as they both walk out. His arm drapes over her shoulder protectively and her arms are caging his waist. Nicolas, Veronica and I walk down first and Diego and Gabriel follow behind them. After securing the exit, we all walk out. All our guns are out and our steps are back to being soundless. Our breaths are back to whispers, this time asking for the wind to keep a secret.
The five of us encircle the two, forming a wall of protection. The world is no longer as dark, trickles of sun spilling into the street as dawn begins to set its claim on the new day. A yellow so warm it could have been sold as gold streamed down the street as the sun rose. I watched it near from the other end of the street, slowly coming closer. Everything washes away, and even the throbbing in my head is gone. I sigh, so softly that only I, not even the wind, can hear.
Then a scream so loud that the birds scatter. I stop, and so does my heart. Only then did the familiar pop register. So clear in my ears, though a moment too late. And I turn quickly, though it feels like the movement took me hours to complete. The continuous scream blends into my brain, becoming distorted and muffled as my eyes struggle to comprehend.
And I watch, unmoving, as Mateo's face is frozen, as if carved in stone, and his body falls like his bones were made liquid. And carved with metal is the bullet that went through his skull. His body lands on the concrete, with his sister falling to her knees beside him, holding onto him as she screams with terror.
All I can do is gasp. I drop my gun and stumble forward, unable to tear my eyes away from my friend. My brother. I drop to my knees on his other side, taking his head in my hands.
No. I wipe away the blood from his forehead with my fingers.
No. My eyes sting from how wide I have them. I'm not sure my heart has started beating again.
He can't. He can't be... He can't. My fingers caress the sides of his face. I hear someone approach. I can't bring myself to figure out who. I just stare into those pretty eyes and feel my chest cave at their lack of light. Of life. No, no, no.
I look up, cradling his head closer, feeling my heart begin a painful beat. Diego glances, wide-eyed and rigid, between Mateo and I. I swallow, forcing down the waver in my voice. "Who did this?"
Diego blinks himself into focus. "I..." He shakes his head. "The bullet came from above. They must have been waiting at the rooftops. We wouldn't have seen them in the dark."
I look back down at the face that is still. Almost like a statue. Maybe it is.
My voice is a poison that burns through my insides as I spit out, "find them."
Diego runs off, leaving the rest of us to our misery.
Gabriel crawls closer, his hands shaking as they reach for his face. His blue eyes brim with tears. Both hands stop inches from Mateo's face, unable to bring himself to touch him. To make it real.
Beside me, Nicolas blinks repeatedly, his face a mask of shock. Stone hard and impenetrable. His body is deadly still, aside from the trembling in his bottom lip. For the life of me, I can't bring myself to even think of comforting him, or any of them.
And Veronica is at his feet, her face crumbling in agony and her mouth agape as she lowers herself to the ground slowly. She doesn't touch him, or even tries to reach out. Her body just shakes as she cries, her gun gripped like a lifeline in her hand.
We can't stay here. We'll die here.
But we would've already. We didn't see them coming. They could have brought each of us down by now. They didn't. They just—
No. He can't be... No.
And I hold onto that for my sanity's sake.
Tenderly, I place my fingers over his face, closing his eyelids as gentle as I can. Maybe he'll wake up. Maybe he's asleep.
I watch his peaceful face with mine set in stone. I don't look at the blood that continues to trickle and begins to stain my clothes. I block out the wails of pain from his sister as she shakes with her head to his chest. And I refuse to think that those pretty eyes will never open again.