CHAPTER 15
I approached the guards just as they were starving, perfect timing. Seven of them were at the entrance, hungrily eyeing my food cart. I smiled, chatting casually as I served them, counting every movement, every shadow. Once they were busy eating, I carefully asked if I could go further inside to sell to the other guards. They hesitated.
I leaned in, lowering my voice. "Please… my children haven't been to school for a week. I can't pay their fees. This food is all I have to keep them fed."
Their faces softened, pity flashing in their eyes. Finally, they let me pass.
Inside, seventeen more guards awaited. I sold the food to them, observing their routines, memorizing every step. One guard eventually pointed me toward the control room where two others were stationed.
I had to get the chip inside—Marissa needed it to hack their security system. I froze for a second, then acted. The steel lid from my food cart became my weapon. I swung it with precision. Both guards crumpled instantly, unconscious. Heart racing, I inserted the chip.
Marissa was in.
I slipped out as silently as I had entered. If anyone had seen the unconscious guards… bullets would have been the least of my worries.
Back at the motel, our tech genius worked her magic. I relayed the number of guards, their positions, everything. We drew up a plan.
Kora would be the bait. I wouldn't enter the den. Instead, I climbed to the roof of a nearby double-storey house, my baby cradled in my arms. Flat on my stomach, I scoped the den through the sniper rifle binoculars.
Kora approached the entrance, swaying her petite waist, every move dramatic. Typical Kora, flaunting herself, capturing attention. A guard offered his lap; she sat, chatting and laughing seductively. Her beauty distracted them completely—exactly as we needed.
While they were lost in Kora's lies, Lupita and Indira slipped inside unnoticed. Marissa, stationed in the van a few meters away, waited to replace the CCTV feed with a loop showing no one entering or leaving. Seconds later, the confirmation beeped.
It was go time.
I readied the silencer. A rush of adrenaline coursed through me. One by one, the guards at the entrance went down. Bang. Bang. Bang. Four men fell under my scope. Kora handled the rest with lethal precision.
"You're welcome, sisters," I whispered through the mic.
Inside, Lupita and Indira dismantled the remaining resistance with surgical efficiency. When the dust settled, the den was a graveyard of uniforms and blood.
I climbed down, joining my sisters. Together, we began the sweep, searching every room for Don Fernandez. Instead, we found a group of girls, tied up, bruised, broken—victims waiting to be forced into prostitution. We freed them, whispers of gratitude filling the empty halls.
Disappointment gnawed at me. Don Fernandez was nowhere to be found.
We exited, heading for the van, when a sudden realization hit—I had left my rifle on the rooftop. I sprinted back, climbing up again. As I hoisted the rifle over my shoulder, movement caught my eye.
Inside the den… a figure stirred.
We had killed everyone. How could someone still be there?
I focused through the binoculars. An elderly man. White hair. A foreign, embroidered suit.
Don Fernandez.
My pulse spiked. This was him. He had been here all along.
I called the others back immediately—we had a new development. Within minutes, they arrived, and we gassed the den. But the man had a gun. I didn't react fast enough. A sharp pain tore through my leg—the first time I'd ever been shot—but I refused to let it pin me down.
Indira was quicker. She fired, hitting his arm. The gun clattered to the floor, and the ladies took turns beating him until he collapsed unconscious. Lupita tied a cloth above the wound to stem the bleeding. I gritted my teeth, limped over to join them, refusing to let pain slow me.
We emptied his pockets and found his ID. Bullseye. Don Fernandez.
Indira was impatient. She grabbed a hosepipe, blasting him with water until he coughed and woke, sputtering.
"Do you remember this face?" she demanded.
The old man shook his head. Indira produced a photograph of her husband. His eyes widened… but there was no remorse. Just a sneer. He had the audacity to laugh and spit in her face.
Something inside her snapped. She struck him.
He tried to regain control, threats spilling from his lips. "I'll kill all of you once I get out!"
Five women surrounded him. He had no chance.
Indira's voice was ice. "Your day of reckoning has come. I am the consequence of your actions. When you wake up in hell, you won't be comfortable… because I will be there, waiting."
He screamed, demanded to be untied. We doused the den with flammable liquid. Every corner, every shadow, soaked.
Then we stepped outside and set it ablaze.
His screams tore through the night, fading with every roar of the flames, the heat consuming the cursed man he had been. A breeze of freedom swept over us—we had erased one enemy from existence.
Back at the van, we drove to our motel. That night, we drank. One of us had avenged her family.
The next morning, before catching our flights, we returned to the den. It was a wasteland. Everything—ash. Satisfied, we left it behind. Indira's revenge was complete.
Now… only mine remained.