by SR Jones
I lean back, letting the sun hit my eyes.
For now, for the moment, it seems we have a reprieve. I pray it lasts, but if it doesn’t, I’ll simply come out of retirement again and again, as many times as I have to in order to keep what’s mine safe.
Priest
I’m still and silent as I lie on the ground, watching the big detached house.
I’m on Korcula, an island off the coast of Croatia, down a dirt track, in the middle of nowhere. In the house in front of me are four men and one terrified woman.
Damen and Reece pulled through. They intercepted the messages being sent to Gezim and performed some voodoo technical shit to find out where they were coming from and got me a location.
There’s movement outside, and I pick up my night goggles. Focusing, I see it’s one of the men, and shit, he has the girl, Roze with him.
She’s wearing a tattered t-shirt and shorts. The man pushes her ahead of him, hard enough she goes down on one knee with a cry. He pulls her up by her hair.
I grit my teeth and have to force myself to stay locked down. Rushing in there without knowing everything I need to know will only put her in more danger.
I’ve done this shit before, and I know the drill. Often there’s a stipulation to bringing the terrorists or kidnappers or whoever did the taking out alive as well if possible. I don’t have that stipulation hanging over me now. Makes my job easier. I can take every one of them out, and as long as the girl survives it’s all good.
Why has he brought her out here?
He pushes her down onto the floor and takes out a cigarette, smoking it.
Why isn’t she in the house? Then I know why. I get a message on my phone, and when I glance at it, I see it’s from Gezim.
They just called. They say tonight they start cutting parts of her off.
Don’t panic, I reply. Keep to the script. Tonight I go in.
Please, just save my baby.
I shake my head. I will save her but for her not him. He’s a piece of shit, and like all pieces of shit, he cares for his own family, but he doesn’t have the empathy to care for anyone else.
The girl, though?
The moment I really looked at her photograph, the one he had on his bedside table, something about her struck me. She’s beautiful. She’s also sad. It’s in her striking eyes and the downturn of her mouth. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a beautiful but sad person in my entire life. I want to know why she’s so sad. I want to make her smile, which is fucked up and insane because I don’t know her.
The man outside with her pulls her up and drags her back in, and I turn my attention to my bag.
Time to check my supplies because tonight is a go.
Thank you for reading. It means a lot to me. Keep in touch for Priest’s story coming in the new year, it’s explosive and you don’t want to miss it!
