Author’s POV
Shitty.
Was the only feeling Amy felt as she got on the wheel, while her legs trembled so badly that she could faint again.
The sun had risen; the storm from last night had vanished without a trace; the clouds had cleared, and the only evidence left was the wet earth. The rays hitting the panel of Amy’s car were brighter after a stormy night. Amy had practically screwed her eyes shut for a moment from the intensity of the light as she fought the drowsiness, her hand clutching the steering wheel for her dear life.
A dumb decision—driving while still under the effects of toxins. The drowsiness hit her like a tidal wave; she took a deep breath as it slowly subsided, her shoulders slumping with a sigh as she focused on the road ahead.
Even under the influence of toxins in her bloodstream, she had managed to get up at 7 in the morning and successfully escape Jay’s utterly cosy warmth. He had held her in his sleep, hands around her waist, nose nuzzling to her neck, making her feel slightly ticklish.
She had glanced at the mirror before she left, and damn, she looked like a vulnerable wreck. She gave a last glance at Jay, who was asleep on the mattress, oblivious to her leaving him yet again; guilt gnawed at her insides, wanting to crawl their way out.
She let out a gruff noise and walked with muted footsteps to the kitchen for a hard gulp of solid coffee with warm water. It was strong enough to whack her back to her senses, her dumb logic—slay one toxin with another, and just like that she was off to the road.
She licked her dry lips, feeling the small cut on the inside of her lower lip; it took time to heal, but it wasn’t visible enough to draw attention. But every time she swiped her tongue over it, all she could remember was the blue-eyed doctor.
That wild kiss ran through her head every time she felt the healing cut on her lip, and she would groan in embarrassment that she couldn’t get it out of her head. Last night she was almost about to kiss him; she had almost pulled him down, his face inches away. One tug and she could have felt them.
Damn, she had felt the need to keep her mouth busy to ignore all the insane thoughts that bombed her mind. She couldn’t make it worse. She drew her hand to the cabinet on the dashboard. She sighed, annoyed at how her limbs were not cooperating. Her fingers trembled against the dashboard while she fumbled with the cabinet; the side effects of the drugs were kicking in. It was a brutal mix of 3-4 varieties meant to kill her from an overdose.
She had escaped the jaws of death once again; if she hadn’t reacted in time, those goons would have surely injected the whole syringe into her system, and she would have been dead by now.
Finally fetching the stashed candies from the cabinet. She plucked one of them, not bothering to unwrap it, bringing the stick to her lips; she roughly ripped the plastic wrap around the candy through her teeth, shoving it in her mouth, as she twirled the stick with her lips. This was one way of keeping her mouth busy. But still it didn’t banish the said man from her mind. Those candies were his preference, his favourites that she now seemed to like; it was a good distraction, and it was now her favourite.
In all honesty, she wanted to stay longer with him, but she knew she had made a mistake to even get to Jay’s location last night. It was a close call. She had expected this and got ambushed right after she thought to follow Jay home.
Her life had been at risk from the moment she chose to help the military with hidden drug cartels and syndicates. It was a clan betrayal in the terms of the underworld, which could lead to consequences worse than death, but she didn’t give two shits about it.
Even though her identity was a secret, she wasn’t a registered part of the military but a secret informant. She knew the traits of those from the underworld; even if one rat was alive in the bloodline, they would definitely come after her blood.
They wouldn’t just seek revenge, and they wouldn’t stop just at finishing her; they would end anyone and everyone around her. Not that it scared her. But she was afraid of the fact that her threats could reach the man she wanted to keep safe.
Helping the military with such crucial info was one way of repenting. But it also gave her all the money she wanted to survive again, and she had smartly invested it in business, and luckily it was a success; maybe successful business decision-making ran through her bloodline rather than actual relationships. She was quite certain of that. Making sure of the doctor’s safety was now her priority, which she had gracefully fucked up last night.
She had made sure she maintained all the precautions whenever she planned to visit Jay. She had made sure to check for all kinds of bugs, GPS, any potential hacking, and every CCTV surveillance of his residence and around the neighbourhood. She had been so paranoid that she even changed cars every time she visited him.
Any potential hidden tracker was thrown straight out of the window. Nobody could trace her or get to his residence. Because if they ever found out about him, he would be at risk. And that was the last thing she wanted.
She was low-key panicking, cursing herself mentally. What was she even thinking, choosing to go to his place right after being attacked? She vividly remembered burning the place down, but she wasn’t sure if someone had followed her. She mumbled curses, thumping her head on the headrest behind her. She had acted so dumb last night.
She had deliberately chosen to go towards Jay’s location after being drugged. It was foolish of her to go there right after being attacked; she had posed a danger to him. Why did she even make such a rash decision? It was out of character. But the answer was clear as day. She trusted him with her vulnerable self. She knew he wouldn’t let anything happen to her; the realisation hit her like a warm embrace fluttering in her chest.
She smiled, remembering his flushed face, desire and want swimming clearly in those blue eyes; it resembled an ocean. Bright and warm when he smiled, but last night those blue orbs were dark, calm, and lurking with an emotion she couldn't name.
It made her shudder and squirm; she never resisted him. She couldn’t resist him. Those eyes themselves made her defences weak. She remembered the past few days, the day Jay had re-entered her life. He had yelled at her, held her as if she mattered, manhandled her, stared at her like she was his possession, and kissed the daylights out of her, and not even once did she protest; she couldn’t push him.
All she could do was surrender to his whims. Had it been any other man, she would have made sure he wouldn’t see the next sunrise. Never in her life had she carelessly trusted a person, especially a man. And maybe she did trust Jay blindly; she could trust her life to him.
With all the stupidity and stunts she had pulled last night, she had known she had thrown Jay over the edge, pushing and testing all his boundaries without a care in the world. She was all vulnerable under him; he could have easily had her in the palm of his hand, could have had his way with her, and could have devoured her as he desired, but he had a tight leash on his self-control, and it made her giddy.
He had held her to sleep. He had bathed her and changed her clothes, made sure her body returned to the core temperature, and not once did she see any bad intent in those blue eyes. It surprised her. All her life, whenever she had crossed paths with a man, she had found those creatures insufferable.
Those bastards never understood the word 'no.' She never heard anything humane from that species. Their whole existence only meant asserting dominance, and she had generalised that behaviour until she met Jay. Though it took her time to adjust to him and his tender personality. She had never fathomed a man with a soft personality yet being masculine in his own ways. He was the most exotic species that Amy had ever laid eyes on. It began with stolen glances; she could only see him moving around, speaking to her, but she couldn’t process a single word. He was ethereal, and it baffled her.
She would ogle at him at every chance she got, staring at those lips, thinking what it would feel like under her touch. She called it mild curiosity, but deep down she knew it was her growing obsession with him. She wanted him to be hers, very badly.
She wanted every man and woman around him to know one undeniable fact: the blue-eyed doctor belonged to her. It had become an unconscious routine after their marriage—ending up at his clinic late every night after her own business was wrapped up. She would wait for him, offering the same transparent excuse each time: they were saving gas and protecting the environment by carpooling—ba-ba black sheep. But it got her exactly what she wanted—going home with him.
She had made those ridiculous excuses. She was very well aware of the effects the man had on her.
She had never in her life thought she was capable of thinking about men or a very specific man. Maybe she had been in the wrong crowd from the very start to ever cross paths with such a species of man. She felt safe and grounded with him.
She could let herself go, act kiddish, and demand his attention for all she cared. She couldn’t recognise that version of herself. And she selfishly wanted him. The idea of pushing him away on impulse was slowly turning into failure.
She had thought of a simple transaction when she had met Jay again. She wanted his forgiveness, and she would have apologised and repented until he forgave her. The want for him that grew in the past was obsession, and she didn’t want that to happen again. She was the reason for his despair. She had promised that she wouldn’t let that happen again. And she had broken yet another promise.
She was cursing her shitty fate at this point. She wanted the man to be hers, yet she had to push him away. She was one selfish bitch; she knew the consequences yet had thought to invade his life like an incest. She was very well aware of the intrusion; she had provoked Jay in many ways just to get him to react to her.
All these months, she had planned each of her visits right after her very demanding duties as an official. The more she tried to fight for time and run back to Jay, the more difficult it had become. After every other mission, she would free her time just so she could meet or see him. She had regretted a few of those instances where her stubborn ass had gone to him after a fresh gunshot wound to her chest. The medics had tried to force her to rest, and she had gracefully ditched that.
She had shamelessly challenged Jay to a race for a twisted game. She didn’t intend any harm; she just wanted to get closer and break the walls that he had built around himself for the last two years. But the look of betrayal and distrust in those blue eyes had killed her; the incident had turned out to be tragic, making him angry at her even more.
Her eyes trained on the golden rings hooked in a chain glimmering under the sunrays, scattered on the flat dashboard of her car. She had retrieved it from the dresser before she snuck out of the house. She gripped the chain like a precious treasure, placing it in her pocket safely. She thought of wearing it again once her hands were steady.
She had planned on calling the military medic and getting herself treated; getting the drug out of her system was a priority. It was important for her to make sure those gang members hadn’t added anything funny to the mix, or she would be pathetically screwed. She would surely get tested.
Finally reaching the destination, she hit the brakes, mustering all her willpower to make her limbs function. She staggered out of the car’s door; her knees buckled, dropping straight to the ground. She wanted to scream in frustration; she had brought this upon herself. Muttering curses under her breath, she dragged and limped her way to the elevator, somehow reaching her penthouse.
Morning had turned into afternoon; the medic had rushed to her apartment in a hurry. The next half hour went by in examination and treatment. The medic looked flabbergasted as he stared at Amy from head to toe, wondering how the hell she had managed to move around and drive back to her place with such a dangerous mix of drugs.
A normal person would have been immobile at her place, let alone lift a finger. He kept on pestering Amy with questions, prying to make the wheels of his brain work, which had been befuddled by Amy’s rocky willpower.
Amy was annoyed to the point of driving her head against the wall; she was just one trigger away from offing the said doctor. The doctor had been testing her patience like a lab rat; once his treatment was done, he looked at Amy, and that dead expression of hers spoke volumes to him. He was now aware that if he shot one more question, he would find himself in a coffin. He quickly packed up, instructing her on a few health precautions and remedies to maintain, including hydration, as he practically dashed out of her residence.
Amy finally huffed out a sigh as she found herself alone with silence and peace she didn’t know she had wanted so badly. She closed her eyes, wanting to rest. She had slept for the rest of the afternoon and finally woke up to her phone buzzing. She didn’t pick up, staring at it as if it were an alien; once the call dropped, she saw a text pop up from her partner in crime, Drake.
Drake: Meet at the headquarters in case you’re alive.
The text buzzed with mockery.
Fucker. She muttered a curse, rising to her feet. She moved into the bathroom, calming her nerves with a cold shower. Once she was out, she took her sweet time in the wardrobe, choosing her outfit and finally dressing up.
Once again, a formal black outfit, modest but sexy enough to make people drool. She knew she was hot, and she would use it to her advantage.
Raking her fingers through her short hair, her eyes wandered to the rings on her dresser with the chain; she reached for it, heaving an exhale, bringing it to her neck. She hooked the clasp after fumbling a little, adjusting the chain around her neck; she hid the dangling rings behind the fabric of her shirt. Glancing at the mirror for a final look, she pulled the black shades from the nearby shelf; her eyes were still red from the aftereffects. She didn’t like looking weak.
The trembling in her limbs was not that persistent, but she still had to put energy into making her nerves function; the heaviness in her head lingered, but it wasn’t as painful as it had been when she had woken up to consciousness. She stayed still, looking at her reflection in the mirror, wondering if she would find herself alive in the future or would end up in a grave.
She had no clue, and the uncertainty didn’t waver her at all; she rather wondered how Jay would cope if he disappeared in the future. She vividly remembered Jay making her promise about something. She was a deaf woman when it came to existing near that man. Maybe he had asked her not to do drugs or maybe land in danger or something like that. She had seen him raging while he straddled her. She remembered those expressions of him being angry and sad at the same time; his firm hands had held her in place, while she had thoughtlessly memorised his face.
The doorbell rang in the silent penthouse, making her frown. Nobody knew her location. She walked out of the room, drawing her gun from the table. She looked at the door camera, expecting the worst.
She leaned closer to the screen; it was Mr. Joe. Her ex-secretary of Ace. How did he even find her? She opened the door, finding him outside. The gun stayed still in her hands; she had been caught off guard yet again. There was a moment of awkward silence.
"Princess…!"
The voice tore across the air the moment the kid burst through the door, his small arms locking around her waist with the unbridled energy of a puppy. For a split second, her heart stopped—not from the suddenness, but from the cold weight of the metal still gripped in her fingers.
With a quick flick of her wrist, she launched the gun across the room. It sailed through the air and skittered loudly beneath a heavy wooden dresser, safely out of sight.
Charlie.
The chosen future heir of her company, ‘ACE’. The boy now visibly looked healthy, a few inches taller than before. She remembered his fragile form clinging to her legs, and now he was able to reach her torso in the span of two years.
Amy: Aye... kiddo.
She stayed still, letting him cling to her.
She glanced at Mr. Joe, who stood at the door, his expression a mix of surprise and nostalgia.
In the next few minutes, Mr Joe settled awkwardly onto the living room couch as he glanced at Amy, who sat across from him. She wasn’t sure what he was about to say.
Mr. Joe: Were you about to go somewhere? I think I chose the wrong time to visit.
He mumbled inwardly.
Amy: How did you know I was here?
She was the first to drop the act.
Mr. Joe: I got to know from your brother that you were alive and made a surprise visit on your memorial. I was late that day. And finding you wasn’t that difficult; you bought 3 car models that had been your all-time favourite, and I was sure it was you. And here I am proving my hunch right.
Amy exhaled a short breath; damn, her choice in cars had been evident when she had reviewed their models. Of course, her secretary had been aware of her meticulous preferences.
Amy: You could have sent me an invite to visit you in that case; why struggle to come all the way here? I would have visited you anyway.
She challenged.
Mr. Joe: Yeah, that’s right. Well, I have come all the way here to ask you to take your will back. Take the company’s inheritance off my son. What were you even thinking? You didn’t even once consult me before making such a will.
He blurted out in frustration while Amy sat amused.
Amy: Wow. People kill for inheritance. But I would surely give you credit for loyalty. I see potential in that kid.
She glanced at Charlie sitting at the breakfast table, happily munching on the snacks.
Amy: Your son has an intellect. He’s clever, a little weak in physical strength, but I think he could grow out of it by the time he gets the inheritance.
Mr. Joe had his mouth agape in disbelief at the words that he was hearing. He was well aware of Amy’s personality traits, how ruthless and unfeeling she was. Oh, how wrong was he to think she had given the company out of the bond that she shared with his son. Never in his worst dreams did he fathom his son being part of some strategic investment by none other than his ex- boss.
Mr. Joe: Are you telling me you— you were running hypotheses on my son all this time you had been with him? You were analysing him! This sounds so unreal…. Oh, my God!! What is he? Your Lab Rat Experiment!!
He snarled at the self-conclusion while Amy remained watchful, her hands folded to her chest, while her leg rested on the other as she leaned back against the couch.
Mr. Joe: Charlie is just a kid… and how dare– How dare you! He is my child, a human being at that, not your successor-making machine.
Mr. Joe was furious yet watchful of his words. He knew the lengths Amy could go to get her words into action. The blank face and her covered eyes made it impossible for him to analyse what she was thinking. But he knew better than to provoke her.
He exhaled a sharp breath, trying to calm his raging nerves.
Mr. Joe: I don’t want him to be burdened by the time he grows up. It must have been your passion to make ACE successful, but hand it over to your kids. It’s your legacy. Charlie is still just a child. What would you do if he didn’t choose the company?
He exclaimed.
Amy: I didn’t think about it that far; I had very little time to make this will, but I knew one thing. Even if Charlie didn’t grow up to be the ideal successor, you would surely have appointed a person who was worthy of the title.
She spoke in a monotone, her voice confident with the same poise as she glanced at Charlie through her black glasses.
Mr. Joe was speechless. Even though they had worked together for a shorter time, they had seemed to trust each other when it came to making decisions.
Mr. Joe: You are not going to listen, are you?
He muttered.
Mr. Joe: Become a managing director then? A Stakeholder, investor, anything! A secret advisor would work too!!
He suggested frantically.
Amy sighed.
Amy: I cannot be associated with the company. You might have already known enough about what I am up to, and I might as well end up dead in future. I am being tracked, and I can pose a risk to you and your son. You shouldn’t have come here either. So leave.
There was a moment of heavy silence. Mr Joe didn’t move, while Charlie tried to act oblivious to the tension in the room. He knew it was something serious, but he knew better not to intervene.
Amy: Right now.
Her words were stern and cold. Not an ounce of emotion lingered on her face, not even the slightest twitch on her lips that could have given it away. He had known this look very well. She was being dead serious.
A minute passed by as Mr. Joe exhaled in defeat; he gestured for Charlie to come to him. Charlie took slow, careful steps as if walking around eggshells; he looked at Amy with a face that spelt silent fear, and Amy was quick to realise that face. The child looked too small for her liking; he was trying to look smaller as if she were a monster that he needed to hide from. She realised she had intimidated the kid in the process.
It wasn’t like she had been soft with the kid when they first met, but the fear on his face felt like a blade being stabbed and twisted into her guts. She sighed as she stood up, walking towards him as he instantly took a step back. It was a quick reflex when living beings felt threatened, but that distrust broke Amy. She looked down at him, slowly but carefully reaching out her fingers. Charlie looked up at her with wide eyes, anticipation lurking as he stayed still. The next moment he felt her hand on his head, patting gently.
Amy: Take care, kiddo.
He broke into a big smile, lurching straight into a hug as Amy momentarily stumbled but didn’t step away.
Charlie: We will meet again, right? I want to tell you so many things. You know I made a few friends in school now; I’m strong. You look so pretty in short hair…
A small smirk formed at Amy’s lips finding the younger one with shining stars in his eyes.
Amy: You are.
Charlie finally stepped away, waving his hand with the energy of a golden retriever. Amy gave her own nonchalant wave of goodbye.
She was left alone in the apartment. With a heavy sigh, she planned to leave for the headquarters. But a cup of coffee was the priority as she took the next
20 minutes to savour her coffee, the fog in her head clearing as she headed out the door.
Making her way to her car, she drove out of the basement. Once she exited the gates of her residence, two sleek black cars smoothly slid on both sides of her car, one taking the position in the front and one behind hers. They weren’t goons; they were her personal guards, the ones she had personally hired.
Though she worked for the military, she didn’t trust them one bit. She had straight-up denied any military officials guarding her doors. She knew if things ever went south, the same guards would assassinate her without a second thought. And she wasn’t a dumb bitch.
Even though she had been grateful enough to let them rescue her 2 years back, her background from the underworld sat like a sore thumb to their eyes. But she held the winning cards of the deck. She was the only reliable source of data and information; they couldn’t touch a hair on her head. And that’s how she had managed to negotiate the setting on her own terms.
The journey to the headquarters was an hour away, and with her level of patience, she had dashed her car, covering the distance within 30 minutes. The premises were secluded from the city, so traffic wasn’t an issue. Stepping out of the car, both her female guards stepped out at the same time, tailing right behind her as they made their way towards the rusty gates.
She made her way inside once all the security checks were done. The staff in charge looked with distrust in their eyes as they scrutinised her from head to toe, yet they couldn’t utter a word to her because they knew better than to run their useless mouths and get their brains blown out for the mere cause. Amy’s gaze stretched to the building ahead. The building almost looked like an abandoned factory from outside; it was a perfect disguise, but the inside was another story.
High-tech doors and cameras at every nook and corner covered the place. She made her way to the vast expanse of the corridor; though her eyes were hidden by those black shades, she was still aware of every slight movement around her, and so were her bodyguards, dressed in all black. The cold arrogance and demeanour made them look as if they were devils arriving straight from the gates of hell.
She didn’t bother to clean up or whitewash her image of some bloodthirsty demon; rather, she liked the fear lurking in those eyes. She took pride in it, like a sick person.
As she neared the end of the corridor, she spotted Drake leaning against the wall a few feet ahead.
Her so-called partner in legal crime.
Drake was the only person in the organisation she found remotely tolerable. Not that he was friendly—none of them was particularly interested in being friends—but he was, at the very least, bearable.
Unfortunately, the fact that his mission partner was a woman had clearly bruised his precious male ego.
He had made it his personal mission to prove, at every possible opportunity, that he held the upper hand—or, failing that, that he could intimidate her.
He had failed spectacularly at both.
But, as they say, a dog’s tail can never be straight.
Apparently, neither could Drake’s ego.
It was blatant, relentless, and so ridiculously abundant that watching him try to assert his dominance had become a daily source of entertainment.
Amy’s gaze remained stoic behind the glasses. Drake’s head, which usually held up with his male dominant pride, was lowered today. Though he hadn’t lifted his face yet, she could spot the changed geography of his face.
One side of his face was black and blue; he had suffered punches and maybe kicks square to his jaw and near his temple, she concluded mentally. She could easily distinguish that those hits weren’t clean strikes but sloppy ones.
She let out a deep chuckle from the ribs at the fact that ‘The Drake’ had been outed by someone lower than his level of combat.
Amy: What’s with your face? Don’t tell me you got smacked by an amateur?
She mocked him in his face and got even more amused when he didn’t react, affirming her assumption.
Amy: You have to be kidding me.
She drawled out a cocky laugh.
She leaned closer, shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her pants, taking a closer look at his face.
Amy: Who was it?
She cocked a brow at him while his face contorted in an ugly expression to contain his temper.
Drake: Your Dog.
He spat, cursing under his breath. Amy, who was so close to kicking him in the balls, only let out a small frown at his ugly remark. But he didn’t stop there.
Drake: He’s your loyal little bitch, isn’t he? Your slick little boyfie?
He spat with venom. The words clicked, curving Amy’s lips into a proud little smirk that curled even further, imagining the wild side of Jay. He had been full of surprises.
Amy: Not bad, huh. But what were you even doing with him?
She commented in a voice thick with hidden pride and amusement as she asked him.
Drake: I went to look for you at his place in the morning. I knew I could find you there; I was late. Got into some ridiculous argument with that prick, and he got all handsy.
Amy knew what he meant. She had left early in the morning. She was sure he had said something extreme to tick Jay off. She had never known Jay as someone who could easily throw fists, unlike her.
Amy: Damn, I missed a good fight. What did you even do to provoke him?
She still pried curiously, her voice raspy with clear intrigue.
Drake: He was pissed off by the fact that I didn’t look out for you last night. I think he was aware, to some degree, of what had happened to you. He kept blasting at me about how risky it was to leave his pretty bitch ass girlfriend all alone, that a little overdose would have been risky for your godforsaken health. Dude’s a menace.
He seethed as he ran a finger to his bruised eye. Amy felt her heart flutter at the fact that Jay had been all worried about her yet guilty at the same time that she had left him in the morning without a word.
Amy: You kind of deserved it.
She let out a lazy comment, fishing out a candy from her pocket, offering it to Drake as he shot her a glare while she simply shrugged, unwrapping the same candy she had offered Drake, putting it in her mouth. This time it was an orange candy flavour.
She leaned her back against the wall, gazing up at the building, her eyes halting on the glass window, finding someone staring straight at her. She felt the guards behind her stand up straight. She saw the commander, who held a monotonous stare but had been quietly assessing her for some time. Drake, who had been drowned in his personal hell of despair, followed her gaze, his posture tightening at the very moment he spotted his Major. He stood a little ahead of Amy, his back facing her. She kept her gaze straight to the Major’s, as if challenging his wits. Out of the blue, she hit Drake’s knee pit from behind, launching him to his knees out of reflex, an evil smirk curling at her lips, not averting her eyes from the Major at the window.
Amy: Bow down, peasant.
She drawled out at Drake but didn’t meet his gaze as she rose to her height, walking past him to the elevator. Her female guards followed behind her quietly, not glancing at Drake, who was now crouching to the floor.
Making her way to the Major’s floor, she entered his cabin without knocking, not deeming the military order or etiquette of any importance. She went straight to the chair, settling herself comfortably across the table while her bodyguards stayed outside the cabin.
The Major barely had stepped away from the window. He intentionally didn’t pay any heed to Amy’s presence. The cabin’s door swung open again as Drake stepped in, approaching the table to give a quick formal salute to the Major, who finally made his way to his chair, sitting across from Amy but not really looking at her.
Drake made his way to the chair beside Amy, settling down for the briefing while Amy had been well aware of what was to unfold.
The Major rather pushed a file, sliding it across the table that stopped between Amy and Drake. Drake was the one to pick up and look at the details as the execution relied upon his shoulders.
Amy let out a loud sigh.
Amy: You really want to stick your finger in a beehive.
Amy finally spoke, meeting her gaze with the Major’s.
Major: No, I want the southern clan to be wiped out of existence. They are a part of the bigger problem.
The Major grunted, partially offended by Amy’s unprofessional tone.
Amy: Do you really think wiping out a clan would mean that no one in the future would have the audacity to start a drug cartel again?
She prodded with a raised brow, her posture relaxed, leg resting on the other as she leaned forward, placing her chin between her fingers.
Amy: Living in the underworld and messing with the underworld is like cursing yourself in chains of hell. You cannot leave until you’re dead. Do you think they wouldn’t come for your blood? Oh wait, it’s not you who will be sacrificing blood, but your so-called sergeants will. And for what? A petty rat fight?
She didn’t need to be loud to put her words across. Every syllable of mockery that left her mouth built a tension that lingered in the air the very next second. Drake, who would usually be the one leading a discussion, knew if Amy had spoken up, it meant that the shit would drill up their ass.
He silently contemplated, his gaze lingering on the commander, awaiting a better answer, but not a word left his mouth. He was the appointed lieutenant for such internal missions, and for the past 1 year and 8 months, he had hated Amy’s audacity from the pits of hell, but one thing that he secretly admired was that she never risked a sergeant's life for any of their missions. Her readiness and backup plans had caused them fewer casualties, which he had been very grateful for.
Amy: Mister Barrett Henderson, I would suggest you get your planted undercovers out of that hellhole. If they even get a flicker of suspicion, your agents won’t come back in one piece.
Her words, though monotonous, sounded like a command as she met his eyes with the fierce energy she exuded.
Drake: Is there a way we can do this without risking?
He intervened in between, feeling the heat of the Major’s wrath across the table. Addressing the commander like a commoner had grated on his ego as he felt the silent, seething anger from the Major.
Amy: We will need to break their system internally. Gathering intel from undercover wouldn’t get us that far; we will have to pit them against each other. Make them fight against themselves and let the job get done by itself.
She leaned back against the chair, living life as one from the underworld; she knew better: a clan was nothing but a pack of wolves fighting for the illusion of power.
Amy: It wouldn’t be easy, but if this is very necessary for some sick satisfaction, then sure. I would only warn you that one wrong step will ruin the whole track of this mission, and once they know Task Force’s involvement, they would be more cautious than ever. For extra steps, we could monitor any educational premises around the location; we can appoint a team to spot the suspicious ones and keep the kids out of the equation.
She knew better how those drug cartels preyed on young kids, teenagers ruining their potential futures.
The meeting lasted for the next 20 minutes, with them discussing the trajectory of the plan. Amy had agreed to accompany Darke; they would stay undercover, and it would be a long journey, because ruining a criminal organisation from the base to the top was not a piece of cake. If they recognised her or if their cover got blown, they would die in the worst way possible, and the chance of them ending up dead was more than 90 per cent.
They were definitely screwed. But she saw this as a perfect opportunity to forcefully drag herself away from Jay’s existence. This way he would be safe and happy away from her shitty life where death was an inevitable guest, always knocking on her door.
She was on a suicide mission with zero signs to abort.
