Page 83 of Endure the Pain

Brenna and I shot up from lying on the ground and quickly got to work taking apart our Barrett M82A1rifles. I’d named mine BFG.Big fucking gun.The sounds of snaps, clicks, and metal sliding was all that could be heard as we concentrated. Brenna finished putting her rifle back into its case a few seconds before I did.

Asher stopped his watch, nodding his approval at the time displayed. “Better than yesterday. Good job, ladies. Now, let’s see you run back to the cabin carrying those.”

Brenna and I stood, brushing dirt and pine needles from our clothes before scooping up our cases and beginning the long run back to the cabin. The cases were heavy as hell, but we had to get used to their weight as we ran. A lot depended on it.

As he ran next to us, Asher’s phone beeped, signaling a new text message. He pulled it from his back pocket and without losing speed, he read it.

“They’re back,” he said.

I nodded, understanding, and picked up my pace.

By the time I reached the cabin, I was sweating, despite the cold air, and my breathing was a little labored. I took the porch steps slowly. Dean opened the front door and took the rifle case from my hand. Exhaustedly, Brenna plopped her ass on the steps and laid her case on the ground. Asher grinned down at her. “You doing okay, baby Quinn?”

Brenna flipped him off.

Dean tilted his head inside the cabin, gesturing that I follow him. He and Finn had just returned from an important errand I’d sent them on. I walked behind Dean into the cabin’s somewhat small living room, where Finn was sitting on a large wooden crate that was already filling the room with the smell of coffee.

I wish I could be a fly on the wall when Sean finds out we stole the shipment.

“Stefan’s going to kill us,” Finn grumbled.

My eyes met his. “You worry too much.”

Finn didn’t back down. “Say that to Samuel and the other guys you executed.”

“Quit bitching,” Dean snapped, which didn’t help.

“We’re not betraying the family, Finn. I would never do that. I will pay the money back,” I assured him.

Finn let out a heavy sigh. “I know.”

Asher and Brenna came inside and joined us in the living room. Their eyes went straight to the crate.

“We leave tomorrow,” I announced. No one responded and I caught all of them looking at each other.

“We’ll make sure everything is ready to go by morning,” Brenna finally said, taking charge. She’d been doing that more and more lately. I was grateful because I didn’t know how I would have gotten by without her these pastthree months.I can’t believe that’s all the time it’s been since…

“Want to ship the coffee beans to Sean as a way of saying ‘fuck you’?” Finn asked, bitterness and resentment lacing his words. I didn’t blame him. My blood hadn’t even dried on the carpet when Sean had swooped in, trying to take over. He had shut Finn out, telling him he wasn’t needed any longer. He had somehow gotten Salome’s direct line of contact and told her that I was dead.

Salome hadn't believed him and had sent Emmanuel, one of her lovers, to the States and to the hospital I'd been in.

I remembered him holding a large bouquet of flowers when he'd showed up. “She wants to know that she’s alright,” I remembered Emmanuel saying to Stefan, who had been refusing to let him into my hospital room. It’d had nothing to do with Emmanuel, it had been what I had asked of Stefan. No visitors. At that time, I hadn't been…capable of doing more than just lying there on that uncomfortable hospital bed, wondering why I hadn’t died and wishing I could have because it would have been better than the anguish that had been ripping my soul apart.

Forcing myself to focus on the present, I responded to Finn, “I’m all for pissing Sean off.” My words lacked their usual oomph.

They noticed it, too. It was why they all went quiet and exchanged looks again. They did it every time I did something that showed the pieces of me that were gone. A huge part of me had died three months ago, right along with my baby. Now, all that was left was my darkness, my rage, and the pain that couldn’t be suppressed by either.

I left the living room before my thoughts could tread into forbidden territory and went down the hall to Vincent’s room-slash-Batcave. His door was open, so I knocked on the frame before leaning against it. Vincent was typing away in front of a wall of computer screens.

Without looking away from whatever he was doing, he shouted over his shoulder, “Yeah?”

“It’s time,” I said.

His fingers froze over his keyboard and he swiveled around in his chair to face me. “When do we leave?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

He nodded. “I’ll reserve our hotel rooms in New York.”