Page 82 of Victorious: Part 3

Nighthawk hesitates, her eyes focusing on me. “If we shift motivation, Javier might escape.”

I meet her gaze, my voice firm. “Then we don’t let him.”

She nods, and behind us, the rest of the birds flicker into view, awaiting orders. I lower to one knee to fill everyone in. “Egret, Starling… take the children’s wing. Priority is safe evac. Kestrel and Kite, secure our exit routes and provide cover fire. Magpie, Peacock, and Barn Owl, you’re on internal disruption. Rosella, you’re with me and Nighthawk. Javier won’t know what’s hit him.”

“Copy,” they reply in unison, and the ground seems to shift with them as they flutter off.

The main house looms as if it’s a fortress carved from vanity and blood money. Floodlights scan the grounds in lazy arcs, and two guards circle the perimeter, rifles slung and eyes sharp.

Nighthawk signals left, I nod in understanding.

There are guards that need to be taken out for us to gain entry.

Quietly.

Kestrel is the first to strike.

She glides behind the first guard, slips her blade under his ribs, and lowers him silently to the ground. Magpie distracts the second with a soft whistle from the trees. He turns, and I’m on him, wrapping my arm around his throat, squeezing until he crumples. We catch the body before it falls.

“Clear,” Nighthawk whispers.

Taking off, we reach the side entrance, a reinforced steel door embedded in stone.

“Cameras disabled. Motion sensors looped,” Kite confirms from her cover position.

Nighthawk steps up, pulling a small device from her belt pouch, an EMP—electromagnetic pulse—burst pack the size of a deck of cards. She attaches it near the keypad and taps hertablet. Suddenly, a pulse emits with a soft thud.

We hesitate, all of us glancing around, waiting for movement.

But we’re clear.

“Firewall bypassed,” she murmurs, tapping code after code, fingers a blur. “Initiating magnetic override in three… two…” And the lock clicks. “Showtime,” she chimes, pushing the door open.

I grin, knowing that I instructed her in all things EMP back in the day.

The birds flow into the giant mansion like smoke through cracks in various locations around the building. We’re trained to be swift, smooth like silk—invisible.

But we know Javier won’t go down without a fight.

And almost immediately, his traps begin.

“Watch your step,” Kite whispers over comms. “Pressure plate on the landing, just saved Starling from becoming ground meat.”

Starling’s voice comes through breathless, “Thank God Kite saw it before I did. That’s one way to get my steps in.”

In the west corridor, Kestrel hisses, “Tripwire,real subtle.” I can hear the sarcasm in her tone. “Got it disabled though.”

The moment we pass through the foyer, automatic oscillating turrets pop down from the ceiling, sweeping red targeting beams across the marble floor.

“Down!” I raise my voice just above a whisper, before I dive and roll, coming up behind a pillar. Bullets rip past as Rosella swings out from behind cover and fires a magnetic grenade. The turrets explode in a burst of sparks, raining flashes and dust to the floor.

“No one said Javier was subtle,” Magpie quips.

Cartel soldiers swarm the halls like insects, dressed in tactical gear, full armor, and brandishing military-grade rifles.

Magpie swoops in, yanking a blade from its holster on a guard’s thigh, and then slicing it across his throat before theguard can even react. Blood paints the wall like a mural as she lets out a battle cry. “Let’s go, motherfuckers!”

Barn Owl drops from a vent, slicing through two throats with her twin karambit knives. Peacock vaults over a table, tossing flashbangs with a manic grin. Kite fires precision shots from the rafters, taking out another two guards, their bodies jolting and exploding with the force of the high-power weapon. Rosella, eyes blazing, charges headlong, screaming bloody murder, unloading her twin pistols into the guard’s knees before jumping and slamming her boot heel into his already fucked knee cap. Then, as he falls to the floor, screaming in agony, she yanks out her blade, forcing it down into the side of his neck, dragging it to split open wide. Blood flows out like a river as he garbles out some kind of cry, his hands rushing to his throat. But there’s no use. He’s going to be dead in a matter of moments as she cackles at the top of her lungs, standing over his dying body.