Page 96 of Endure the Pain

There was a moment of silence before Vincent replied, “Alright, the cameras are down and playing a recorded loop for anyone watching. You have ten minutes to get in and out. Good luck.”

I pulled one of my guns out and Dean peeked around the bush, getting a position on the two Aryans we knew were guarding the property. He was carrying the bomb and my job was to cover him. We’d gone over the plan for tonight a hundred times and no words were needed after we proceeded from here.

Dean flicked two fingers forward and crept out from behind the bush. I followed and we dashed up the driveway. An Aryan had his back to us as he leisurely walked around the side of the house. Quickly and as quietly as we could, we came up behind him. Dean dropped the bag on the ground right before he reached around the Aryan’s neck and put him into a chokehold.

The Aryan struggled, his feet kicking. I quickly reached between them for the Aryan’s Glock and yanked it from where it was tucked into the back of his pants. It felt like forever, but after less than a minute, the Aryan stopped struggling and his body went limp. He wasn’t dead. Not yet, anyway. The plan was to capture, not kill, if we could. If we had to kill, no bodies could be left behind. It was to look as if we were never here.

Dean laid the unconscious Aryan on the ground and we both got to work, pulling zip ties from our pockets and tying him up. Dean yanked a bandana from his back pocket and stuffed it into the Aryan’s mouth. I picked up our black bag with the bomb and Dean lifted the Aryan from under his arms and dragged him with us as we continued toward the back of the house.

The side gate was open, and I moved ahead of Dean to peek inside. The backyard was a hoarder’s wet dream. There was junk everywhere. Car parts, broken furniture,and a lot of discarded liquor bottles. Thankfully, there was a path cleared. I stepped past the gate, slowly creeping further inside.

We were about to round the corner of the back porch when a glass bottle rolled on the ground from that direction. An Aryan, carrying a sawed-off shotgun, followed the glass bottle, completely unaware of us. I lifted my gun, aimed, and pulled the trigger.

It was dark but I could still see the mist that sprayed out from the back of his head onto the torn-up couch directly behind him, which happened to be where his body landed.

Shit.

There was no going back now. We had to keep moving forward. We’d figure out how to hide the blood later. Dean laid the unconscious Aryan next to the dead one on the couch and we made for the back porch.

The wood steps creaked a little as we went up them.

“We’re approaching the back door,” I whispered into my mic.

Dean crouched so that he was at eye level with the door’s lock and pulled out a small kit with tools to pick the lock.

“The alarm is down,” Vincent said, and Dean began picking the lock.

With the two Aryan guards down, there shouldn’t have been anyone else there, but I’d still need to be on the lookout while Dean set up the bomb.

The lock on the door clicked and he silently turned the knob and pushed the door open. Inside, we were greeted by a dark kitchen. The whole house was an abyss of black and quiet, which I took as a good sign. I followed Dean as he headed for the kitchen sink. He knelt down on the floor in front of it and opened the cabinet doors. Without having to be told, I handed him the bag and he got to work setting up the bomb.

I watched him insert wires into the C4 and set up the timer for when the bomb was supposed to go off. It was a pretty easy set up because everything was premade, thanks to Nicoli and the list I'd given him.

Dean finished setting up the bomb and moved a few old cleaning supplies in front of it to help keep it hidden. He closed the cabinet doors and we backtracked out of the house.

We pulled both Aryans off the couch and were faced with a huge bloody mess to deal with. The upholstery was completely stained.

“Do you think they’ll notice if we flip it over?” I whispered.

Dean shrugged and went to one side of the couch. I copied and went to the other and we flipped it backward.

“That’ll have to do,” he said and pulled the van's keys from his pocket and tossed them to me. “Bring the van up and I’ll drag them out front.”

I nodded and took off in a jog.

“You guys have two minutes to get out of there,” Vincent warned, and I upped my jog to a run.

I was panting by the time I yanked the van’s door open and jammed the key into its ignition. Dean was waiting for me with the Aryans in the middle of the driveway. I parked right in front of him, jumped into the back, and ripped open the side door. Dean was already there with the dead Aryan. I helped him roll the body inside and again with the unconscious Aryan. Dean shut the door and I hopped back into the driver’s seat. Dean climbed into the passenger’s seat and I booked it out of there.

Once we were down the street, I said into my mic, “We’re out.”

“Okay, the alarm and cameras are back up. The others are also on their way to meet you,” Vincent said.

“Good,” I replied.

A groan came from the back of the van. Dean and I glanced at each other before he reached into the glovecompartment and pulled out a syringe pre-filled with a sedative. Dean pulled off the cap and flicked the bubbles free from the liquid inside before climbing into the back.

The Whiskey Bandit was closed, the parking lot was empty, and there wasn’t an Aryan in sight. We met down the street where there weren’t any cameras. Brenna and Finn got out of Finn’s new white Camaro. His old one had blown up with mine the day we'd gone shopping at the mall. Asher parked his blue truck in front of our van and hopped out.