Page 95 of Chalk Outline

“What would we tell her?” I flick the cigarette to the ground and stub it out before bending to pick it up.

“I’ll handle it.”

I glance at her with pinched eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“Reeve!” She warns and I’m stubbed by the harshness in it as I swallow hard. “I said I will take care of it. Have I ever let you down?”

Never.

I shake my head.

With a heavy heart and the weight of the world on my shoulders, I walk into the house to say goodbye to the love of my life without her knowing.

Night falls around this corroded warehouse as I send my hand forward and grab a guard’s head. Locking him between my arm and my chest, I press my suppressor to his head and shoot. Then, shoot the other guard as he pops from around the corner.

“The door will unlock in three… two… one. Go.” Braxton informs me through the earpiece, loudly jabbing his fingers on the keyboard. “Their live feed is now on a loop.”

The single fluorescent light hanging from the ceiling flickers as I enter stealthily. According to the little birdie I tortured yesterday, the structure belongs to a wealthy businessman named Jean Dubois. He resides in France but comes here to supervise the illegal fighting tournaments he organizes every month.

They stream them for thousands of their members and distribute drugs on the side. He is a liar by day and a real piece of shit by night.

“I’m currently scrolling through their camera footage. The system is installed in the owner’s office at the far wing, where a bodyguard stands outside the door. Below his office is the inventory room, which contains a dozen weapons.”

“If the door has a keypad, lock it,” I whisper my order, crossing the hallway I’m in.

“Done. Based on the blueprint I extracted, there are two rooms on either side of this hallway, each with eight guards on standby. The remaining guards are likely inside, where they’ve turned off the cameras. They have advanced technology here, despite its rough appearance.”

My boots slide quietly over the polished concrete floor. Thankfully, no squeaks resound that would give away my whereabouts. I position myself behind a floor-to-ceiling metal pillar. “It’s all about the money they make, not convenience. You know how that saying goes: You work for me. You die for me.”

“And suck my dick too,” he laughs to himself as I shake my head.

One of the rooms Braxton mentioned is directly in front of me, with guards ready to spray the wall with my brain matter.I peek around the pillar, zooming in on the sturdy man who looks like the Hulk, pacing along the mezzanine floor with a rifle outside Jean’s office. Through the glass windows, I see him sitting behind a desk, organizing stacks of cash into a suitcase.

Jean has been working with the same crew for years. No one else gets involved unless they kill them afterward. They make a ton of money and are loyal solely to him. Jean’s nephew manages everything like a good watchdog while Jean lives in France, away from any trouble.

Drug dealers who turned into psychotic monsters began creating games for entitled motherfuckers with millions in their bank accounts who wanted some entertainment. This place evolved into a well-oiled machine for their nasty deeds.

At the center of the warehouse, four men move around a large table covered with white powder, weighing goods and organizing them into packages. Grim shouts echo through the space from a tablet on their table. I break to my left and shoot the bodyguard on the mezzanine floor twice.

He crashes into the railings with a bang before hitting the floor.

Everyone turns their heads towards me, reaching for their guns.

I duck, shoot their heads in a row, and advance toward the table.

The four men drop to the floor with bleeding holes in their foreheads.

Blasts of gunshots echo through the warehouse as the doors behind me swing open and more guards file in. I drop to my stomach and reload behind the table. Through the small gap underneath, I fire at their legs. Most of the guards take hits, fall, and wail in pain as I upend the table.

When a shadow appears to my right, I pull him in front of me as a shield. Bullets pierce him before I grab the second shadowfrom the left to get a few bullets as well, and then I shoot the guy on the other side.

“Nice move!” Mitch hypes up, sounding pumped as hell.

“I got lucky,” I smirk, jumping onto a case cart that rolls my way with two more semi-wounded guards. “I thought you two couldn’t see me.” I shoot at everyone who moves before I shove my gun into the holster and somersault. My legs wrap around the neck of the man choking on his blood in front of me, taking him down to the ground with me, right before I put a bullet into his head.

“I said the cameras were turned off, but I didn’t say I couldn’t turn them back on. I just needed a minute—show off.”

A smile sneaks up on me.