Page 80 of Victorious: Part 3

Let the fun begin…

Knowing that the guys have secured the prison, it’s time for the birds to fly.

Bikers are great when it comes to explosions and going in all gung-ho. But when you need stealth, when you need to ensure the task is carried out with precision and accuracy that cannot be matched, you need nothing but the elite.

If you want to catch a puppeteer at his own game, you have to send in the very puppets he created to break those chains.

With Loki, Theo, and the Martinez twins working their geek magic, we were able to hunt down the adult birds I set free when Alpha and I liberated The Nest. We brought them in, and with Nighthawk’s help, told them everything Javier was doing behind Rico’s back.

They were instantly in.

Birds train together. We move in sync like the chorus of a beautiful ballet, but we hardly ever go into the field together.

All our lives, we’re taught not to form attachments.

To always work alone.

To never trust anyone.

But now, everything we knew about our past lives was a lie, and the only thing we can trust is each other.

As I lead these strong, fierce women through the dead of night, moving like stealthy silk, a fire grows inside me that I haven’t felt for a long time.

Being with the club is my life now.

Being Alpha’s wife is my dream.

Being Poppy’s stepmother is what I’m supposed to do.

But this last chance at being a bird, and this, is giving me a purpose.

And I’mfucking thrivingright now.

The remote estate sprawls beneath us like a fortress carved from the Hollywood Hills, its modernist architecture gleaming under the moonlight. From our perch on the ridgeline, I count twelve separate buildings connected by covered walkways, each one strategically positioned to provide overlapping fields of fire. Motion sensors sweep the perimeter in predictable patterns, while armed guards patrol with military precision.

This isn’t just Javier’s personal compound. It’s a fortress to keep him safe.

But there’s one thing Javier didn’t count on when training elite assassins.

If you piss off assassins, we know all his tricks.

So, we know exactly how to get into his compound. How it will be safeguarded and all the ways to break the protocols.

Because he used us to put them in place.

Nowhis birdsare coming home to roost.

Nighthawk lies flat beside me, her breathing controlled and steady. The former bird’s transformation has been remarkable to witness. Where once she moved with the cold efficiency of a trained killer, now there’s something else, a purpose beyond mere survival.

“Movement, southeast corner…” she murmurs. “Two guards, both armed. Standard patrol pattern.”

Like wings slicing through silence, the elite team I’ve assembled trails me through the vegetation in perfect formation, sharp-eyed, deadly, and unseen. Eight former birds, each one personally recruited. Women who, like us, escaped the Nest’s programming and chose to forge their own paths. Each with a skillset honed in darkness, now aimed at the light. Tonight,they’ve returned not for redemption, but revenge.

Kestrel leads the breach team, small and sharp-eyed, a sniper in spirit and movement. She’s already gauging wind speed, terrain slope, and kill zones without a word.

Beside her, Egret waits with serene precision. She’s calm as a still lake, but when she strikes, it’s with lethal grace. Most of the time, you don’t see her coming. She’s our silent assassin.

Starling, our strategist, keeps low but alert, quietly directing field positioning with a glance or a signal. Every move she makes is part of a larger play already unfolding in her mind.