Page 19

SEVENTEEN

emmanuel

I’ve spent the past few days immersed in preparation, going over every detail of the prison layout and security protocols.

Jer has called in favors, arranging for a few trusted guards to be on duty tonight when we plan to make our move.

It's risky, relying on anyone inside the prison, but we don't have much choice.

I make my way to the rendezvous point where I'm meeting Jer and the rest of our small team.

The plan is simple, at least in theory. We'll enter the prison under the guise of a routine inspection.

Once inside, we'll make our way to my father's cell.

From there... well, that's where things get complicated.

"Ready?" Jer asks as I approach.

I nod grimly. "As I'll ever be."

We enter the prison, our fake credentials passing inspection easily thanks to our inside help. As we make our way through the corridors, my heart pounds in my chest. Years of training keep my exterior calm, but inside I'm a mess of nerves and adrenaline.

Finally, we reach my father's cell block. One of our inside men unlocks the door, and suddenly, there he is. My father. The man who destroyed so many lives, including mine and Clodagh's.

He looks up as we enter, a smirk spreading across his face. "Emmanuel," he says, his voice dripping with false warmth. "I knew you'd come eventually."

I feel a surge of hatred so strong it nearly chokes me. "It's over," I say, my voice cold. "Your games, your threats. All of it ends now."

My father's smirk widens. "Oh, I don't think so, son. You see, I've got friends in high places now. Friends who are very interested in the work you do."

Before I can respond, alarms begin blaring throughout the prison. Shouts and the sound of running feet echo down the corridor.

"What the hell?" Jer mutters beside me.

My father laughs, and the sound is chilling. "Looks like my ride is here," he says. "Care to join us, Emmanuel? I'm sure the Syndicate would love to meet the Silencer in person."

I realize, with growing horror, we've walked right into a trap. The Syndicate wasn't planning to break my father out next week—they were coming tonight. And now we're caught in the middle of it all.

As chaos erupts around us, I lock eyes with my father. In that moment, I know that only one of us is walking out of here alive. And I'll be damned if it's going to be him.

The alarms continue blaring as chaos erupts around us. Guards are shouting and running down the corridors, but I can't tell if they're friend or foe at this point.

My father rises slowly from his cot, that infuriating smirk still plastered on his face. "What's it going to be, son? Are you going to try to stop me, or are you going to join the winning side?"

I feel Jer tense beside me, ready for action. But before either of us can move, there's an explosion somewhere in the distance. The whole building shakes as dust rains down from the ceiling.

"Looks like my ride is getting impatient," my father chuckles.

In that moment, I make my decision. I can't let him leave this prison alive, no matter what. The risk is too great—to me, to Clodagh, to everyone.

I lunge forward, tackling my father to the ground. He may be older now but he's still strong. We grapple on the floor of the cell as the sound of gunfire erupts in the hallway outside.

"Emmanuel!" I hear Jer shout. "We need to move! Now!"

But I can't let go. This ends here, one way or another. My father manages to get a hand free and swings at my face. His fist connects with my jaw, sending pain shooting through my skull. But I barely feel it through the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

I get my hands around his throat and start squeezing. His eyes bulge as he gasps for air. "This is for Clodagh," I growl. "For her family. For everyone you've ever hurt."

Just as I feel his struggles beginning to weaken, something hard connects with the back of my head. Stars explode in my vision as I topple sideways, my grip on my father loosening.

Through blurry eyes, I see a man in a guard's uniform standing over me, a baton in his hand. One of the Syndicate's inside men, no doubt. My father scrambles to his feet, coughing and gasping.

"Let's go," the fake guard says urgently. "The chopper's waiting."

As they move toward the cell door, I force myself to my feet, ignoring the pounding in my head. I can't let them leave. I won't.

But before I can take a step, Jer is there, grabbing my arm. "We need to go," he says firmly. "This place is coming down around us."

I try to shake him off. "No! I can't let him get away!"

"Emmanuel," Jer says, his voice hard. "If we don't leave now, we're all dead. We'll get another chance."

I know he's right, but every fiber of my being screams against letting my father escape.

Still, I let Jer pull me away, my eyes locked on my father's retreating form.

As we rush down the corridor, dodging panicked inmates and guards, I can't shake the feeling that I've failed.

That I've let Clodagh down, let everyone down.

We make it outside just as another explosion rocks the building. The night air is filled with smoke and the wail of sirens. In the distance, I see a helicopter lifting off, no doubt carrying my father to safety.

"Fuck!" I yell, slamming my fist into the side of our getaway van. The pain helps clear my head a little, but the anger and frustration remain.

"We'll get him," Jer says as we climb into the van. "This isn't over."

As we speed away from the chaos of the prison, my mind is already racing, planning our next move. My father may have escaped tonight, but I won't let him slip away again. And now that he's allied himself with the Boston Elite Syndicate, the stakes are even higher.

"We need to warn Clodagh," I say suddenly, remembering our earlier conversation. "If my father's out, she could be in danger."

Jer nods grimly. "I'll make the arrangements as soon as we're clear. We'll set up round-the-clock protection."

I lean my head back against the seat, closing my eyes. The adrenaline is starting to wear off, leaving me feeling drained and defeated. But I know I can't afford to wallow in self-pity. Not when there's so much at stake.

"What's our next move?" I ask Jer.

He's silent for a moment, considering. "We need to regroup, gather intel. Find out where your father and the Syndicate are headed. And then..."

"And then we take them all down," I finish for him.

Jer nods, a grim smile on his face. "Exactly. The Silencer has some work to do."

As we drive into the night, I feel a renewed sense of purpose. My father may have won this round, but the war is far from over. And I'll do whatever it takes to make sure he never hurts anyone again.

The game has changed and the stakes are higher, but one thing remains the same: I am the Silencer, and I have a job to do.

* * *

Jer’s house is quiet as I enter, my footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. It's been three days since the failed prison operation, and we've been regrouping and gathering intel.

I make my way to Jer’s office, where he and Maverick are hunched over a table covered in documents and maps. They look up as I enter.

"Any news?" I ask, though I can tell from their grim expressions that the answer is no.

Jer shakes his head. "Nothing concrete yet. Your father and the Syndicate have gone to ground. They're being careful."

I clench my fists in frustration. Every moment my father is out there is another moment Clodagh and countless others are in danger.

"What about Clodagh?" I ask. "Is she secure?"

Maverick nods. "We've got round-the-clock surveillance on her. She's safe for now, but..." he hesitates.

"But what?" I press.

"She's cautious," Maverick admits. "She’s already tried to ditch three of the guys we have guarding her. Thankfully, they were ready for it. But maybe she needs to know there’s a threat to her?"

The thought of dragging Clodagh back into this nightmare makes my stomach churn. But I know Maverick's right. Keeping her in the dark might be more dangerous in the long run.

"Alright," I say with a sigh. "I'll talk to her. But first, we need to focus on finding my father and the Syndicate."

Jer nods, pulling out a fresh map. "We've narrowed down their likely locations to these three areas," he says, pointing to circled regions. "Based on our intel and known Syndicate properties."

I lean in, studying the map. "So what's our play?"

"We hit all three simultaneously," Jer says. "Small teams, in and out. We're looking for any intel that can lead us to their main base of operations."

I nod, trying to figure out the best ways to get in and out without losing any of our men. Those fucking Syndicate bastards are trained. I saw that when we were at the prison. We need to be cautious and meticulous about doing this. "When do we move?"

"Tonight," Jer says. "We can't afford to waste any more time."

As we go over the final details of the operation, my mind drifts to Clodagh. I know I need to talk to her, to warn her about the danger she might be in. But part of me dreads seeing the fear and pain in her eyes that my father has caused once again.

"Emmanuel," Maverick's voice breaks through my thoughts. "You with us?"

I shake my head, refocusing on the task at hand. "Yeah, sorry. Just thinking about our next move."

Maverick gives me a knowing look but doesn't press the issue. "Alright, let's gear up. We've got a long night ahead of us."

As I start preparing my equipment, I can't shake the feeling that this is a trap. Something doesn’t sit right with this at all.

"Jer, something about this doesn't feel right. What if we're walking into a trap?"

Jer pauses, watching me. "You may be right. The intel came to us a bit too easily. What are you thinking?"

"I think we need to be extra cautious," I tell him. "Maybe send in scouts first to each location before we commit our full teams. And have backup ready in case things go sideways."

Maverick nods in agreement. "Smart. We can't afford to lose anyone on this op."

We quickly change the plans, ensuring everyone knows what to do and to make sure they have their wits about them.

"Be careful out there," Jer says as we do our final equipment checks. "These Syndicate guys are professionals. Don't take any unnecessary risks."

I nod grimly, holstering my weapon. "You too. Let's make this count."

We split up, each team heading to their assigned location. I'm with Maverick, approaching a secluded warehouse on the outskirts of the city. As we near the building, I signal for the team to hold position while Jason moves in closer.

Minutes tick by in tense silence as we wait for the all-clear. Finally, Jason's voice crackles over the comm: "No visible activity. Looks clear from the outside."

I exchange a look with Maverick. It could be a good sign, or it could mean we're walking into an ambush.

"Alright," I say quietly. "We move in, but stay alert. This feels too easy."

We approach the warehouse cautiously. When we reach the side entrance, I notice something that makes my blood run cold—a faint red light blinking near the doorframe.

"Shit," I hiss, grabbing Maverick's arm. "It's wired. Fall back!"

We barely make it ten feet before the world explodes around us. The force of the blast throws me to the ground, my ears ringing. Through the smoke and debris, I can hear shouting and gunfire.

"Maverick!" I call out, coughing as I struggle to my feet. "You okay?"

"Yeah," comes his strained reply. "But we've got company!"

As the smoke clears, I see figures emerging from the shadows, weapons raised. The Syndicate was expecting us after all.

"Take cover!" I shout, diving behind a nearby dumpster as bullets start flying.

As I return fire, my mind races. How did they know we were coming? Was our intel compromised from the start?

I hear Jer's voice in my earpiece, urgent and tense: "Emmanuel, what's your status?"

"We're under heavy fire," I reply, ducking as a bullet whizzes past my head. "It was a trap. They were waiting for us."

"Shit," Jer curses. "The other teams are reporting similar situations. We need to abort and regroup."

As much as I hate to retreat, I know he's right. We're outgunned and outnumbered.

"Fall back!" I call to my team. "Retreat to the rendezvous point!"

We start to withdraw, providing cover fire for each other. Once we’re back in the car, Maverick races away from the warehouse, the rest of the team following behind us.

Fuck. These fucking assholes are one step ahead of us and I fucking hate it. We need to figure out what the fuck is going on and who’s giving those bastards the intel on us.