Griffin
Silence fills the car as we pull into a secluded alley next to the warehouse.
Adrenaline thickens the air between us and oddly calms us into a pointed state of awareness and anticipation as we ready ourselves to descend upon Tartarus.
The excruciating hour-and-a-half-long car ride provided enough time to cover all our bases. We prepared as if the whole crew would be there, mapped out the blueprints of the warehouse, and did some Intel on members themselves—their weaknesses, their moves.
We left no stone unturned.
We may have started off with the hint of a plan, but we are the best at what we do. And now we are prepared to take on an army.
My main mission, though, is to get Kalista out from the bindings of the Tartarus. And, hopefully, out from the shackles of her preposterous father as well.
Safely.
“Gyphon, you ready?” Manticore asks me.
I nod and look at the two in the back, posing with stone-cold faces.
They all look at me, waiting for my response.
“We all set?” I ask them firmly. I’m anxious as hell, and there’s a quiver in my voice, though they don’t notice.
We’ve done heists before, but nothing of this magnitude. With these many forces against us.
I’m not concerned for us—we’ll be fine—it’s Kalista that I can’t stop thinking about.
Putting on his hat—metaphorically—Jackal looks at me, excitement emanating from him.
It’s contagious.
“We’re more than set,” he winks, and then opens the door, making his way to the trunk.
I nod, and follow him, along with the others.
Opening the trunk, we all stare down in greed, amazement, excitement—or all three—as Manticore proves our readiness.
He wasn’t lying when he said that he had us covered.
Each of us has armed himself with a couple of different types of semi-automatic pistols and submachine guns, ranging from Heckler & Koch to Manticore’s favorite, SIG Sauer. And if my eyes aren’t deceiving me—and they don’t often do—I’m certain that I see Jackal and Manticore hide a grenade in their bulletproof vests.
Yeah, we have this.
We all nod to each other and make our way to the entrance of the warehouse.
Silence again falls upon us, but this time as a part of our preparation.
The work of Leviathan and Jackal gets us through the door, with no questions asked.
And a man with dark features and a prominently crooked nose walks up to us and begins to check us out.
Tension and anxiety crowd the large, rather-crowded warehouse. All of us stand still, muscles and mind patiently waiting to attack.
But we wait, holding in our itching need to beat these assholes to a pulp and find Kalista.
After eyeing me up and down, he continues to scrutinize the other guys, and I look around the space.
It’s exactly what we thought.
Two stories, sparingly filled with miscellaneous materials—boxes filled with a range of chemicals and liquids and some random tables and stocks of paper.
I bet Jackal is feasting his eyes—he has prime ingredients for a bonfire.
But it reeks of metal and alcohol. It’s disgusting and stings when you breathe it in.
My stomach drops, thinking about Kalista here, absorbing this piss for who knows how long.
“Welcome to Tartarus, Manticore,” he declares—matter-of-factly—with a thick French accent.
We give each other a passing glance, sharing a moment of assurance.
“I better be,” Manitcore says sternly.
I stifle a smile. His blatant disregard for the danger these men possess and the fire we are about to set in here is refreshingly humorous, yet not completely appropriate.
A smaller group of about five other men gather around to greet us, guns cocked on their hips.
Each one looks bigger than the next. All of them stand stoically and on-guard, looking as if they would shoot us the second the boss says so.
“Please, follow us. The boss is excited to see you,” says one with an Italian accent.
Like the idiots they really are, they didn’t pat us down or try to take our displayed weapons from us. This boss must be new or is just too thirsty for action or money. That’s what they’re known for anyhow—greedy, thirsty idiots.
I marvel at their foolishness while heading to the far side of warehouse, weaving through walls of raw material and boxes.
My ears perk up when I hear a muffled noise, getting louder and more distinct every inch we move. It’s almost like someone is trying to speak, but I can’t quite make it out.
A second later, my attention is directed toward a spark and a loud bang.
“Yippee ki-yay, motherfuckers!” Leviathan’s voice rings through the warehouse, echoing off the walls.
And in that moment, I react.
We all react, and the warehouse erupts violently, with a vengeance.
I spin around and grab the hand of the guard behind me. I twist it opposite of its natural bend, breaking it immediately. He recoils, cradling it with his other hand, and I bring his head to my knee, crushing his jaw.
He falls weightlessly to the ground.
I raise my weapon and turn away to pace the maze of boxes, with only Kalista on my mind.
I call her name, even though I know she probably can’t hear me through the grunts of the men and the bullets piercing the air and skin.
“Kalista!”
Nothing.
“Ah, fucker!” Leviathan screams.
I run toward him, looking down the sights of my UMP45 as I do, ready for anything that jumps out of me.
A box falls in front of me, and I jump back.
And then a man with indistinct features—other than smelling like an ashtray—kicks me, and I stumble.
As a reflex, I pull the trigger, and the bullets make a hole in his leg, and then I fire again, this time at his shoulder.
He fires back, and I duck, lunging for his waist and knock him down.
We tumble, punching each other, but I get the upper hand.
Hovering over his chest, I pull up his collar, and I see that it’s the boss.
“Where’s Kalista?” I shout in his face.
“Qui?”
“Kalista, motherfucker. Votre chèque!”
His mouth forms a disgustingly wicked grin and he laughs, low and harsh. Her name he doesn’t know, but your paycheck he does.
He’s fucking atrocious.
It pisses me off, and I pull out a pistol, pointing it to his head.
He sighs, almost in pleasure.
“Elle est délicieuse.” She is delicious.
I head-butt him, knocking him unconscious. Hopefully, his bullet wounds will drain him of his worthless existence.
“Leviathan!” I scream, hoping he’s still conscious as I get up and regain my composure.
“We’re good, man!” Manticore grunts out. “Go, get your girl!”
The sounds of men grunting, fists pounding, and guns blazing engulf the warehouse, and the heat is rising.
I take off my ruined jacket and run forward, screaming out for Kalista.
I faintly hear a “Griff! Here!” but it’s quickly covered.
Fuck. There’s someone with her.
I meet up with Jackal in the maze, and we both freeze as we turn and see her in the corner, surrounded by gallons of gasoline.
Tied to a chair, blindfolded, with a large man standing over her, muzzling her mouth.
She bites him, and he winces, releasing his hold. Then he punches her.
Rage consumes me, igniting every nerve and sense in my body.
If I could, I would burst, making sure to shatter every fucking fiber of that man’s being.
“You get him, I’ll untie her,” Manticore directs.
I launch forward like a fucking missile, its only mission being destruction and devastation.
I refrain from shooting him because that would be too easy, too quick. I need him to feel his pain, squirm in his torture.
He will never lay another fucking finger on Kalista ever again.
I punch him from the side, and he wobbles back. But he quickly responds, kicking me in the gut.
I squint, feeling a striking pain, though it only infuriates me more. I punch his face, his abdomen, and I knock him down with a swift kick to the knee.
He gets a few solid punches in, but nothing that stops me.
“Griff, stop!”
I turn to see Kalista running to me.
Getting up, the man takes advantage of my distraction and elbows me in the chin, knocking me down.
He readies himself to kick me in the stomach, but Kalista jumps on him.
“Kalista, no!” Manticore yells out, but she doesn’t listen.
She never does.
She jumps on his back, strangling his neck.
He jerks his body right and left, forcing her to either side, but she steadies himself by wrapping her legs around him.
She jabs her foot into his groin, making him keel from the pain. Then she lets go.
He gasps for breath while wincing in pain, and she stands in front of him, staring at him head on, and straightens her stance.
She’s emanating power and strength, and I’ve never been more attracted to her.
“Don’t you ever fucking touch me again,” she says and punches him in the cheek and jabs him in the nose.
“And this is for bruising his face.” She undercuts his chin and knees his abdomen.
She shrugs, brushes off her clothes, and turns to me while the man drops to the ground.
Bloody fucking hell.
Manticore and I are in awe, and we struggle to close our mouths from gaping.
“Would my damsel like a hand?” She winks at me and extends her hand out to help me up.
I laugh, wholeheartedly, and slightly groan as I get up.
I look at her and feel the tension melt away.
“We need to get the fuck out of here!” Leviathan yells out to us from wherever he is.
“Let’s blow this fucker up!” Jackal screams back.
I give her an inviting look, and she laughs, soothing my anxiety and anger more. I kiss the bruise that has already formed on her cheek.
“Care to join me, love?”
“I would love to join you.”
“Then your chariot awaits.”
Manticore runs ahead of us, and I grab Kalista's hand and pull her with me.
We reach the door in record time, dodging only a few Tartarus minions, thanks to Manticore’s favorite pistol.
All five of us run out, leaving Jackal a little behind.
“And, now, for the finale!” He screams, and we smile, approving of his decision.
Though Kalista seems a bit hesitant, she doesn’t object. I’m sure she won’t mind blowing this up when she finds everything out about her precious Daddy.
We keep our pace toward the car, while Jackal bites the grenade and pitches it through the second-floor windows of the warehouse.
He sprints toward us, and we huddle down behind the car, waiting for it to detonate.
I turn toward Kalista, and she meets my gaze, concern etched on her expression, but desire coloring her eyes.
I kiss her hungrily, and the warehouse explodes, shaking and destroying the world we once knew.