Dominion (Alpha Domain #1)

by Arabella Abbing

  Chapter Nineteen

  John

  I clapped my hand over Allen’s shoulder, pushing him forward as he continued to blankly stare at the school bus. Troy was already on board, sitting down in the seat right behind Derek. I gave Allen a gentle push towards the opposite row of seats, then crouched down in the aisle between them as Derek pulled the doors shut and started the engine.

  “Someone please tell me why I’m on a school bus.”

  Troy swung his legs into the aisle and leaned forward. “Because there’s a bus that goes through Sanchez territory every morning at approximately 6:10. Derek will drive us into the area and we’ll hop off close to the warehouse.”

  “Then after we take out anyone in the warehouse, Derek will loop back around and we’ll put the captives on the bus. Blindfolded, of course,” I added, watching as understanding dawned on my best friend’s face.

  “Drop point?”

  “Already scouted. A getaway car has been parked within two blocks.”

  “So we’re ready to go.”

  “Yes, sir. Just one last thing.”

  Allen frowned and asked, “What’s that?”

  Troy opened the bag sitting at his feet and pulled out three ski masks, tossing one to Allen and one to myself before pulling the mask over his own face.

  “Like you said—we can’t risk any of the captives identifying us. Suit up.”

  * * *

  When it all came down to it, we couldn’t have planned it any better.

  Derek dropped us very close to the side entrance of the building, only leaving us with a brief run over the remaining distance. And at such an early hour of the morning, hidden by the last bit of darkness before dawn, we were damn near impossible to see. Not that anyone was even awake to see us.

  Troy picked the lock of the side entrance door and we slipped inside—leaving us wondering how the hell they managed to keep any captives locked down in a place that seemed so easy to infiltrate.

  “Shit!”

  “What?” I asked, turning to the sound of Allen’s voice.

  He pointed up the staircase to our left and I frowned.

  Alright, maybe I could understand how captive never made it out. The steel door at the top of the stairs was impenetrable without the proper tools.

  “What the fuck do we do now?” I asked Troy.

  Normally, this would be the point where we’d break out whatever explosives we had purposely fashioned for a door like this. It wasn’t something we never dealt with—we just weren’t prepared for it this time.

  Allen pointed a gloved hand to my right and I nodded, raising my gun in the air as I slowly started to creep down the short hallway. Troy covered me while Allen set up at the front and waited to make sure no one came in the side door behind us.

  The silence in the building was almost being eerie. The slight squeak of our shoes against the title floor as we crept forward was the only sound perceptible to my ears and I wondered if there was even anyone here this early in the morning for us to leave our message with.

  Judging by the deathly silence— I was starting to think there wasn’t.

  When we got to the end of the hall, it split in two different directions. Troy signaled left so I moved right, in silent agreement that we’d go to the ends and check the doors before meeting back at the fork. I was on high alert as I moved down the hallway, my heartbeat rising as I got closer and closer to the door at the end.

  It was just a standard door, not like the steel one up the stairs that we couldn’t break. It was pretty similar to the one that we originally came in through, but I knew from studying the blueprints that there was no way this door could be an exit.

  I eyed the lock a few times, then glanced back at Troy’s disappearing form as he stepped further down the hall. I eased myself close to the door and pressed my ear against it, listening closely for any sounds.

  I was met with silence, my eyes trained on Troy as he did the same thing on the other end. We both waited for a long moment, then he made a signal with his hand that I was able to recognize as dead end.

  Just as I was about to pull away from my own door in agreement, a muffled curse sent my heart racing. I waved my hand frantically at him, crouching down low and keeping my gun at the ready as Troy silently moved down the hall.

  He crouched down beside me and pulled the lock pick tool from his back pocket, moving forward and gently easing it in the keyhole. We both froze when another curse—closer this time—came from directly behind the door. With panic in his eyes, Troy pulled the tool out of the slot just as the knob started to twist.

  Troy flattened himself against the wall and I followed suit, watching with a grin as he lifted his gun and slammed the butt forward.

  Well, at least I knew it wasn’t a captive.

  At least I hope it wasn’t.

  Troy peeked into the room and pulled at the radio on his arm.

  “Down the hall and take a right. Found the barracks.”

  We waited until Allen rounded the corner and looked down at the unconscious form of the Sanchez employee who had opened the door for us.

  “He dead?”

  “No.”

  With a frown, Allen pulled the silenced pistol from his holster and fired a round into the back of the man’s skull.

  “He is now,” he needlessly stated as he stepped over the body and entered the room. “So this is where they sleep.”

  We followed him in and I realized he was right. This must have been where the permanent employees of the warehouse slept— bunk beds were lined along the walls almost like an army barrack, only far for personalized.

  “This guy was cursing, he must’ve been running late.”

  “Yeah. Lucky for us,” Troy mumbled as he crouched beside the body and searched through his pants pockets.

  A moment later, he grinned and pulled out a key to what could only be the steel door.

  “Let’s go to work, boys.”

  * * *

  Allen

  I ignored the look John was giving me as we walked back to the upstairs door to test the key.

  Killing men wasn’t anything new to either of us, but I was fairly certain this was the first time he had ever seen me take someone out when they were already down. It really wasn’t my style, but this wasn’t about me anymore. It was about Amber.

  And we had a message to send. One that leaving the members of the Sanchez family with splitting headaches wasn’t going to solve.

  No, this was only going to end with a fuckload of bloodshed.

  “The key fits,” Troy announced. “You ready?”

  I looked to John, noticing the hardening of his eyes past the ski mask as he gave a firm nod.

  “Ready. Boss?”

  “Always.”

  Troy twisted the key and backed away as multiple locks started disengaging from within the steel door. A few moments later, the door released and started to open from the other side.

  “Ricardo, late again. Dante won’t be happy—”

  I lunged forward, slamming my pistol against the man’s face and waiting for him to jerk backwards before I lifted the gun and pulled the trigger— delivering the bullet directly between his eyes.

  Troy and John flooded in around me, raising their guns and firing down the hall as the screaming began. Men started to rush out of multiple rooms into the dreary hallway, but the three of us mowed down every single person who was stupid enough to throw themselves into the line of fire.

  Two minutes later, the cement hallway was littered with at least twelve bodies and it was eerily quiet once again.

  All that was left now were the men smart enough to stay hidden and wait for us to move.

  Smart or not, they wouldn’t be leaving alive. The only option for survival for them was to flee. Which we needed at least one of them to do in order to ensure this news to made it back to Mario’s ears.

  “Come out, come out, wherever you are!” I shouted, knowing that most of the members of the family wo
uld recognize me by voice. Hopefully, knowing it was me and my team would scare a few of them into running.

  Those that ran would live.

  Those that tried to fight us would die.

  Troy and John flanked me, their guns aimed at opposite sides of the hall as we slowly made our way to the first set of parallel doors. Troy held up a fist and I respected his training, stopping immediately and waiting for another signal. He flipped out something on the side of his gun—a mirror, I realized upon closer inspection—and got close enough to the door to tilt it and see inside.

  He held up two fingers, then another fist. After repeating the recon move on the other side and holding up one finger, I pointed to John and crooked my finger, silently commanding him to move with me.

  On the count of three made by my fingers, John ran and slid past the door to the other side, drawing gunfire that was distracted enough for me to lean in and fire off a couple fatal rounds. Troy easily handled the one person in the other room and we checked to make sure there were no captives before moving on to repeat the process at the next set of doors.

  We worked like a well oiled machine— moving all the way to the end of the hall without any of us so much as being grazed by a bullet. After we made sure the fork at the end of the hall was clear, Troy motioned for us to step back.

  “The captives must be being kept all in one place.”

  “Should we search these rooms for clues?” John asked, pointing his thumb back to the hall we just cleared out.

  “We can do that or pick a path. Left or right. Boss? What do you want to do?”

  Not being able to read their facial expressions was irritating and I could only rely on their eyes to judge. I looked from Troy to John, noting that they both seemed content to go with whatever option I chose, but something in John’s expression was wary.

  “J. What do you think?”

  Both men’s eyes widened with surprise. It wasn’t often that I asked for anyone else’s opinion while on missions, but I trusted John’s judgement. Since I wasn’t feeling any particular calling to either path, I needed a second opinion.

  And John was the person I would turn to for that every single time. Without question.

  “Left,” he said with a jerk of his chin in that direction.

  “Any particular reason?”

  “Intuition.”

  “That’s good enough for me,” I said as I stalked forward and turned left down the hallway.

  I didn’t miss John’s smile as I stepped past him and a small twinge of guilt coiled in my stomach at the thought that he obviously had no idea how much I valued his input. Whether I asked for it often or not was irrelevant in my eyes, but apparently it wasn’t in John’s.

  At the end of the hall was a flimsy wooden door. I tried the knob, raising an eyebrow when I realized it was locked. John stepped past me and kicked—the frame splintering under the force of his boot. There was loud shout right beside the door, one that was abruptly cut off by a bullet.

  “Help! Please, help!”

  All three of us froze at the sound of a male’s voice as he shouted for help, followed by a hoarse sob as someone obviously punched the man to silence him. A feminine scream echoed in the hall and we stepped forward, our eyes widening at the massiveness of the warehouse room.

  Holy fuck.

  The chambers for each slave were all visible from where we stood up on the metal walkway. Eight by eight rooms lined against the walls with dividers between them and glass fronts. They couldn’t see the other captives on either side of them, but they could see out at their captors.

  And the buyers when they come to look at the goods, I thought sourly.

  Speaking of—the female scream sounded again followed by the unmistakable crack of a whip and I realized that we must have walked in right at the start of training hours.

  None of that really mattered though considering every Sanchez member who wasn’t in a cell with the slaves was now aware of our presence. Angry shouts in both English and Spanish sounded through the building as they rushed for the stairs, a few of them firing randomly up at us.

  “What a waste of bullets,” I muttered as I dropped to the ground and started crawling forward. I shouted back at John and Troy. “Take the other end!”

  Once I got to the corner of the metal walkway, I crouched up on my knees and aimed my gun at the staircase opposite of me. The set-up was incredibly lucky— I reached for a spare clip to place by my feet as I fired at the men rushing up the stairs hoping to take us down.

  A few turned around and ran and I let them go— hoping that they would actually run for freedom instead of calling for back-up.

  “Boss, move! I’ll cover you!” Troy shouted as he laid down on the walkway to keep the high view of the area with his rifle.

  John and I moved at the same time, both of us standing up and running to our respective staircases, dodging bullets as Troy took down anyone he could see. I hopped over the pile of bodies and let my body go lax for the landing, ducking into a roll against the harsh floor and grinding my teeth together when pain shot up my arm.

  “God dammit,” I muttered, realizing that the landing had scraped the hell out of my arm, but having no time to check it out as three guys rushed me from behind.

  Someone grabbed me— obviously attempting to hold me still so one of their buddies could disarm me— and with a roar of anger, I sent my head flying back and crashing against the other man’s skull. Pain radiated from the hit, but I ignored and spun around, taking two of the men out with the last few rounds in my pistol as Troy nailed the third.

  John cursed loudly and I broke into a run towards his voice, seeing his gun laying discarded on the floor yards away from him as he fought hand-to-hand with one of the trainers. I reached for John’s gun and held it up, waiting until he noticed me and ducked down to give me a clear shot.

  After I took down the trainer, the only sound left was our combined pants until Troy’s footsteps running on the metal walkways hit my ears. Once we were all together again, we made quick work of the rest of the trainers, going from room to room and making sure they were all dead before we met back in the middle.

  “How many?”

  “Eleven.”

  It was more than I expected to have to move, but it’s not like we had much of a choice.

  “Do we have enough blindfolds?”

  “Plenty,” he confirmed as he reached into the bag strapped to his back. “I grabbed thirty or so, just in case.”

  John and I both grabbed a handful and we all went separate ways, stealing the keys off of the trainers and making our way into the rooms to free the captives.

  I winced when I stepped into the first room, trying not to look at the marks on the young girl’s naked body. But I couldn’t stop myself from looking at her face when I went to put the blindfold on, and I immediately compared her small stature to Amber’s.

  With a shuddering breath, I stepped away and went over to the makeshift bed, grabbing the filthy sheet off the top and draping it around her shoulders before I moved to unchain her wrists.

  After one wrist was freed, I recited the words we had decided on the bus.

  “I’m here to free you. The terms of your rescue are that you are not to, under any circumstances, remove this blindfold. You’ll be dropped blocks away from this territory and free to continue the life you led before you were captured. Do you understand?”

  “Y-Yes,” the girl whispered.

  “I need more than that. Tell me you won’t attempt to take this blindfold off and identify us. We are your saviors— not your enemies.”

  “I-I won’t take it off, I swear.”

  She was shaking with terror, but I could see her worry lines starting to fade in favor of hope. I undid the chain on her other wrist and softly commanded, “Follow me.”

  Once I led her out of the room and towards Troy, I lifted up the rope and placed it in her hand. “Hold on to this. It’s how we’re going to lead you out of the building w
ithout removing your blindfold. You will wait here while we free the other captives.”

  “I understand.”

  Freeing the other captives was pretty much the same deal every time— making sure they agreed not to uncover their eyes and then leading them to the rope, one hand gripping the nylon while the other held the sheets around their bodies. When all eleven were free, I addressed my men.

  “J, I want you to help T lead the group slowly up the stairs after we clear them. I’ll take point to make sure no surprises are waiting for us.”

  John nodded and Troy and I made our way to the staircases to push the dead bodies to the side far enough to lead the captives up them. It was a job that was going to require a lot of patience, which is why I was having John and Troy work together to get it done.

  Trying to get a bunch of terrified, blindfolded slaves up blood-soaked stairs sounded even less fun than attempting to herd cats.

  So once we cleared the stairs, I ran ahead, shoving the bodies to the side in the first hallway we cleared before setting myself up at the end of the fork and waiting.

  When the sounds of John leading the group nearer to the hallway hit my ears, I pulled my cell out of my back pocket and shot a text to Derek. I didn’t know where he currently was in the bus route, but I wanted to make sure he had enough time to make it back so we weren’t left standing on the street with eleven beaten, blindfolded captives.

  My phone vibrated and the words ‘Ten minutes’ flashed across my screen. That was more than enough time to get them to the door and wait.

  I nodded to John as they came out, listening to him as he warned all the captives that they were turning left into a doorway and to tread carefully. This really was a better job for him than it was for me. I didn’t possess the patience and gentleness that was required for this part.

  I can be gentle with Amber.

  I shoved the thought away with force. Now was not the time to think about Amber because if I did— I’d either wind up with a boner or in a murderous rage when I remembered that she was alone with Mason at this very moment.