Chapter 231: Asher
Forty–eight hours.
Forty–eight hours since I watched her disappear through the front door with Boomer. Forty–eight hours since I kissed her forehead and told her making Since I let her walk away from me — bruised, broken, terrified because of my silence. My failure.
I haven’t slept. Can’t. Every time I close my eyes I see her. On the floor. On her stomach. A man twice place to rest. Iter ribs straining. Her hands trembling. Her eyes searching for me.
her size sitting on her back like the was making but a
Begging
I failed her.
But not again.
Not a second time.
Rooster stands beside me on the ridge overlooking the warehouse. Dressed in black, gear tight against his body, sleeves rolled. He’s calm. Efficient. Already locked in. “We’ve got six heat signatures inside. Third room from the back has the biggest cluster. Could be the main stash.”
I nod once, then adjust the earpiece. My voice is flat. “South entrance for me. You take the service stairs.”
Rooster eyes me for a beat. “We doing this quiet?”
I shake my head. “We do this right.”
No one who touches her walks away from it. Not again. Not ever.
We move in parallel, slicing through the night like shadows. I keep low, boots silent over frost–slick asphalt. The warehouse is wedged between a storage yard and a run–down mechanic shop, just outside town limits isolated. Deliberate. The kind of place the cops only visit after something’s already burned.
I make it to the south side. There’s a rusted panel door with a thick chain padlocked through the handle.
Amateurs.
I take the crowbar from my pack, slip it under the chain, and crack it open in two moves. No sound, no delay. Inside, the air reeks of smoke, sweat, and engine grease. I slip in.
No alarms. No security. They think they’re untouchable.
Big mistake.
Rooster’s voice crackles in my ear, “I’m in. One down already. Sloppy.”
I duck past a broken forklift and slide along the corridor wall. My Glock is tight in my grip. Every step forward, I’m fighting the urge to run. To tear the place apart until I find the men who put their hands on her. Who put a gun to her face. Who made her cry in a way I haven’t seen since the night she told me what happened four years ago.
My breathing slows. Not because I’m calm, but because I’m focused. Locked in. Ready to do what I was trained to do. What I hav time.
ne in a long, long
I round the corner. One guy. Leaning against a wall, texting.
I’m on him in seconds. Arm around his throat, other hand over his mouth. He goes limp in twelve seconds flat.
I drag him behind a crate and keep moving/
Rooster radios again. “Two more down. East wing clear.”
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Chapter 231: Asher
“Main hall next,” I answer.
I move down the hallway toward the central room. Voices spill from under the door. Three, maybe four. I lower my stance. Slide the book puk from my week. In seconds, the door clicks open.
Islam it with my boot.
Three guys whip their heads around too late.
I shoot the first one in the leg. He collapses, screaming. The second lunges for a pistol, but I disarm hint before he can raise it and shove him hard enough to shake the shelves.
The third hesitates the smart one. He puts his hands up.
I press my boot to the wounded guy’s leg. “Where’s your boss?”
“I don’t know, man I swear-”
I press harder.
“Okay, okay!” he screams. “He’s in the back room. Steel door. Code 0911.”
Rooster appears behind me, rifle up. He scans the room. “Looks like we found their inventory.”
I glance around. Crates of pills. Stacks of cash. Burn phones. Passports. This is a smuggling den, not just a hideout. All of it is evidence. But all I care about is the man behind that steel door.
The one who sent his guys to lay hands on her.
We storm the hallway together. The steel door stands at the very end. Reinforced. Clean. No windows. One keypad.
I punch in the code. 0911.
Green light.
Rooster readies his weapon. I grip my Glock tighter.
“On three,” I say.
“One.”
“Two.”
“Three.”
We kick the door open-
And stop.
The room is… empty.
No crates. No men. Just cement walls. A light bulb swinging overhead. And in the center of the floor… a single bullet casing. Clean. Gleaming.
Rooster swears under his breath. “What the hell is this?”
There’s something painted on the far wall. Crude, rushed. Spray paint in angry red.
NICE TRY.”
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Chapter 231: Asher
I step into the room slowly, blood boiling.
Click.
It’s faint. Mechanical.
We both look up.
A ceiling panel lifts open, exposing a small cylindrical device rigged to the beam.
Rooster barely gets the word out-“Trap!“–before it detonates.
A flash. A roar. Heat everywhere.
The blast tears the floor beneath us. Smoke, dust, shrapnel. I hear Rooster scream. Feel the ground hit my back. My head cracks against the floor.
Everything goes black.
But before I lose consciousness, one image flashes behind my eyes-
Penny.
Crying. Bruised. Her voice cracking
I’ll make it back to her.
Even if I have to crawl through hell.
as
she whispered my name.
Chapter Comments
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Why wouldn’t you just smoke them out instead of going into their territory, or stalk them to be who’s in there
Visitor
not so sure how much I like asher becoming a criminal
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