by Mia Hoddell
Kirby had decided that walking would be the better option as it would alert less suspicion. To get a car, he would have to go through his dad, and that would mean questions he wouldn’t be able to answer. Kirby may have been about to build his own future but that didn’t mean he was good at lying. He would crack under Rogan’s pressure, so choosing the slower option he increased his chances.
Sneaking out of the mansion had been tougher than usual—Rogan had upped security because of the threat posed by the group against them—but Kirby had been leaving the mansion for years. He knew all of the passageways, blind spots, and concealed hiding areas so if anyone could get himself and four others out, then it was him. Kirby had led the men through the mansion and out on to the streets flawlessly and only when they were a good hundred metres from the gates and out of sight did he break the silence that had followed their escape.
“This has to go perfectly. I want us in an out with as little fuss. No talking, no taunting. You just shoot when you have a clear shot. I don’t care who does it but it has to be clean. I don’t want any chances taken. She has to die.” Kirby’s voice grew in strength as he spoke, becoming more confident in his orders. He didn’t want to show himself up and losing face would only undermine his authority, so he had to appear strong like Rogan.
The men nodded as they walked beside him.
“Are all of us going to go up to the flat and just break through the door then?” Trey asked, his voice full of disdain as he took orders from someone half his age. None of the men were happy about the situation, knowing it was a gamble siding with Kirby, but it was the lesser of two evils if his plan worked.
“Of course not. You, Mike and Brett will stay outside, blocking the exits. Me and Syd will go up to the flat,” he said pointing at each of them as he explained the task. All of them looked and dressed identically with short brown hair, black jeans, shirt, and jacket. They all concealed a weapon under the jacket and, as Rogan required, they were all built like a solid wall of muscle.
“Everyone clear on what’s going to happen?” Kirby asked, trying to fill his voice with authority but the men were too experienced to be blinded by his fakery. They didn’t exactly roll their eyes but it was obvious they held little respect for Kirby.
Walking through the streets, only the glow from the full moon illuminated their pathway. In a clear sky, it was bright enough not to warrant the use of torches; something that was more luck than planned as Kirby had forgotten them—well he hadn’t even considered them in the first place.
The pavements that once used to be filled with flashing neon signs, queues of desperate clubbers and semi-conscious drunks were now empty. The roads that used to hold gridlocked traffic, where drivers loudly revved their engines and cursed out the window, believing it would hurry things along was silent. Now it was replaced with an ominous silence, the threat of being caught out in the dark by Rogan’s men only instilling fear in the city inhabitants. And that is exactly what Rogan wanted, allowing him to exercise control easily.
The few people who were brave enough to venture out into the night were those with an addiction. They visited the casinos and built up more debt they couldn’t repay. But they didn’t care; they kept on gambling and Rogan kept adding to control.
“Okay, Mike, go around to the back and check for any possible exit routes. Brett, stand here and make sure no one comes out or goes in. Trey, keep an eye on the windows too got it?” Kirby pointed at the men, as they reached Cora’s flat “Syd, let’s go,” he gestured, motioning for the man to move in front of him. He watched as he pulled out his gun from the waistband of his jeans, and not wanting to seem incompetent, Kirby did the same before the man turned around to check he was following.
Approaching the door, Rogan’s men who had been tasked with watching Cora stepped aside instantly and Kirby grinned inwardly. He had managed to buy their cooperation but he had still been apprehensive they might have changed their minds at the last minute. As the door was revealed to him though, a real sense of euphoria powered on adrenaline exploded in him as he realised he was leading just like Rogan. He was about to get everything he dreamed of and people, mainly Rogan, would have to start taking him seriously. They would have no choice but to.
Looking up at the dark windows that were surrounded by the old, dirt covered, crumbling brick and rotten wood with black paint flaking off, Kirby had a slight moment of worry that she wasn’t in. He also couldn’t grasp why Cora had chosen to live in her dilapidated flat rather than Rogan’s mansion. However, he had an answer to both questions: she was in because that’s where Nick had said she was—where else could she have gone? And he knew that she chose to stay there because it was hers, she was free there and she wasn’t imprisoned. Kirby felt the same but unlike her, he’d never had the guts to do something about it—he liked the luxury life too much to change it. Rogan had made it clear that if he left, he’d leave the lifestyle he was so fond of behind and with nothing.
As Kirby did one final sweep of the street—not that anyone would stop them—his eyes glinted with hunger. His pulse accelerated, the pounding in his chest pushing the rush he was feeling around his body even quicker as he rocked on the spot with excitement. There was only one thought running through his head as he watched the burly man in front of him get ready to force the lock open.
It was time for Cora Shields to die. It was time for Kirby Carvelli to take his rightful place as heir to Rogan’s empire.
* * *
Oblivious to her impending death, Cora lay sprawled out on the sofa. Face down, her right arm hung over the side, dragging on the floor as her legs stretched over the arm and her face pressed into the cushion. Her breathing was deep and slow through her parted lips in her boredom induced sleep.
That was until her phone started ringing in her back pocket. Chiming its annoying chirp Cora groaned, reaching up to pull it lazily from her pocket. She hoped it wasn’t Rogan.
Checking the screen through a half-open eye, she squinted trying to make out the name through the tears that were forming from its brightness. Seeing that it was not Rogan, she sat up, pushing her face off the sofa and massaging out the creases it had placed into her cheek. With a heavy sigh she pushed answer.
“What do you want?” she groaned down the phone, her head still foggy with sleep causing her to ignore the fact Jed had been the one to help her escape Mayana. “Sorry, you just woke me up,” Cora said by way of explaining.
“Forget it. Listen, are you still at your flat?” Jed’s voice sounded tense and she could picture him running his hands through his hair due to the stress as he spoke.
“Yeah, why?”
“You have to leave. Right this second, you have to get out. People are coming for you.”
“What? Who? Is Mayana sending someone or are you just kidding me?” Cora asked, the news crushing her drowsiness as survival switched her mind on. She knew the answer to her last question. The words rang true in her ears but it was hope that for once she was wrong, forcing the words from her mouth. She wasn’t in the mood for more running, her leg was still sore and her head was groggy. All of that combined, led to a severely frustrated Cora who people shouldn’t want to mess with.
“You know I’m not lying, don’t be stupid. Kirby’s coming for you, Cora, just get out.”
On instinct Cora went to grab her bag that she had packed the last time she decided to leave. It still held all of her essentials but as she grabbed the handle she caught a glimpse out the window.
“Can’t. They’re already here,” Cora muttered down the phone, cursing under her breath. She couldn’t seem to catch a break anymore. It also seemed as if Jed’s warnings were not so well timed any longer.
“Just find a way out, Cora.”
“Can’t. They have everything blocked off and two are coming in the front door. I’ve got to take care of this, Jed.” She didn’t mean it to come out as forceful as it did but she didn’t have time to say anything else. Hanging up she removed both guns f
rom her bag, and knew she was going to have to fight her way out.
Chapter 23
Cora knew she didn’t have long to prepare as she watched the men on the street below her window. She had her back planted firmly against the wall, a gun in either hand at her side, as she glanced out, keeping out of sight in case someone looked up. Being seen was not something she wanted—at least not until it was on her terms.
Cora thought of leaving the flat to meet the two men who had kicked her door in on the stairs. They wouldn’t be expecting her to know about them, let alone confront them before they had even made it to her flat. She hoped she would be able to deal with them before they got to her. However, when she spotted that they already had their guns drawn and Kirby was sending the other man in ahead of him, she discarded the idea. Even if she got a shot in first, Kirby was right behind him and then there were the others to think about. If they heard the fight, they would barrel in behind him in support. She had 10 rounds in each magazine—she couldn’t risk getting into a firefight only to run out of ammunition. Cora was confident against two men, she could handle that…but more than that? Well, that risk was too great…and getting out of this alive was all about her swiftly analysing that risk.
The best idea she had was to hide, wait for them to come to her, separate them and attack. Her mind flicked to what she had learnt from an ex-special forces soldier her mum knew, the 3 Ss: stealth, silence, and silhouette. Becoming one with the night would be the key to surviving, and she knew that was the way to go. Cora thought to herself as she pressed herself away from the window, making sure to take the long route around so as not to cross directly in front of it, eliminating the chance of being caught in a cross-hair.
It was almost pitch black in the flat, the small window not allowing much moonlight into the room—something Cora was pleased about. Normally she hated how dark the room was, especially in the day, but finally it would be to her advantage—the shadows would disorientate them.
Moving quickly into her bedroom, her feet danced around the obstacles with practised and knowledgeable steps. She reached into the bottom drawer of her bedside table, fumbling in the dark until her hand came into contact with the item she required. Cold metal brushed her fingertips before they clasped around it and pulling out the one silencer she had for her 9mm Sig, she shut the drawer with her hip. She really hoped she only needed the one. If she had to fire both guns at the same time she was screwed, and not because it would mean both of the men were firing back at her. The noise from the gun that wasn’t silenced would arouse suspicion from people, and the last thing she wanted were nosy neighbours getting involved to benefit their own situations.
Everyone hated Rogan, fearful of being on the wrong side of him. So it was a common occurrence for ordinary individuals to aid Rogan’s men, their thinking being Rogan would be indebted for their help in bringing in some renegade. Of course it was a selfish action mostly. They believed they could survive or gain favour and assumed Rogan would then extract them from their desperate lives to something better.
What they underestimated was Rogan’s disdain for his men outside of his loyal trusted cohort that now included Nick. He viewed the lower ranks as dispensable and were used to do the majority of the killing, extortion, and torture with an endless supply to replace them. Any one of these soldiers had to show incredible skills to catch Rogan’s notice and win promotion. If they died, he believed it was their fault and deserved it. If they failed, well then they were as good as dead. Either way they lost out. The person they were trying to capture gets given up against their will, and then the nosy person who thought it was their business to get involved gets a life time contract and no gratitude. They walk straight into Rogan’s and never leave.
No one wins—except Rogan.
Attaching the silencer as she moved back through the flat, Cora made her way towards the front door. She couldn’t predict how they were going to enter but there was no way she was going to unlock it with them stood on the other side. That would be like she was asking to get shot and it would give her no time to hide or prepare. So, unlatching the door she left it open. It would only take a gentle push to reveal her empty and dark flat. Cora thought of hiding behind it so she could threaten anyone who entered but when that left her exposed to anything she failed to stop, she decided against it. It was two on one after all.
Instead, Cora moved into the darkest corner she could find that had the front door in view so she would be able to see their silhouettes. Crouching down so her knees were pressed tightly against her chest, Cora concealed herself between the TV and the bookcase. On the opposite side of the window, it provided the perfect cover. Hidden almost completely, the book case stopped any trace of moonlight that could reflect off her. She was enveloped in shadows and there was no doubt in her mind that anyone glancing her way would miss her.
As she settled her breathing, Cora began the wait. She knew it would feel longer, even though it would only be a matter of moments before they reached her. She placed the unsilenced gun in the front of her jeans where it was easily found and accessible. The other she held tightly in two hands and braced her arms on her knees, aiming the barrel at the open doorway, her eyes never wavering.
The only sound over the silence was the clock ticking—something that seemed slower than normal—and her heart, which was doing the opposite and beating louder and faster. She could feel it pounding against her chest, wanting to break free like an over-revved motor fuelled on adrenaline.
Then she heard their first mistake, a sound outside that alerted her: something brushing the metal bannister. Everything left her mind and she focused.
Their footsteps were barely audible as they moved across the hallway but the odd scuff along the carpet and hushed whispers were enough to give them away—their second mistake. Foolishly, it wasn’t easy to use stealth in combat boots and these men were just like all of Rogan’s, something they should have considered. Carrying the weight they held, it was impossible not to make a noise as Cora listened to their footsteps drawing nearer. The slow, deliberate steps sounded ominous in the silent building.
She tensed as they stopped outside her door, her body freezing in anticipation and fear. She had no shame in admitting it was fear as after all they had come with the intent to kill her. Anyone who wasn’t scared was either arrogant, reckless or just simply stupid. Holding her breath subconsciously, she waited in silence for them to enter.
Slowly the door creaked open, its over-painted hinges protesting as it did so. No one followed it. It continued to swing until it hit the wall, bouncing with a gentle knocking noise as metal hit the plaster.
Holding her weapon steady, Cora trained the barrel through the doorway. Unbelievably the figure of one of the men stepped out from behind the wall. Just a faint silhouette, as his body consumed the whole entrance and she shifted the barrel so it was pointing at his heart. Their third mistake. Her arm was steady and confident like she had been taught. Her breathing was a calm rhythm of silent ins and outs. They each lasted the same amount of time as she focused on the man in front of her. He had only taken a few steps forward into the room and that was only because Kirby had pushed him through by his back, fed up of the delay.
Cora watched as he turned his head, slowly scanning the area. Once again she held her breath as he turned to face her. His eyes skimmed over the place she was sitting, not noticing her in the blanket of blackness that surrounded her petite frame. Slowly, so as not to alert the men, she turned to see Kirby who was now fully visible. Calming herself she decided it was time to reveal her position. They would find her eventually and at least this way she had some hope of controlling the situation. She wouldn’t get them in a better position and if they started searching they would split up, making it impossible for her to defend herself from any possible attack.
“If you wish to live, you won’t take another step,” she said, her voice filled with a steely coldness that would send a shiver down a normal person’s spine.
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However, these weren’t normal men. Both heads whipped in her direction instantly, searching for her in the dark.
“Place your weapons on the floor and I will refrain from shooting you.”
Neither of the men did as they were told, their eyes still wandering in the dark, hoping to find her before it was too late.
“And if we don’t? It’s two against one and you’re trapped, Cora,” Kirby jeered from out in the hallway. It was obvious why Rogan didn’t want him to take over, he was an embarrassment. He let his emotions get in the way and in Rogan’s business that could be deadly. It was better to remain detached from any situation.
That was how you won.
That was how you survived.
Cora didn’t react. She thought the implication that she would shoot was clear. “Maybe, but right now my first bullet is aimed between your eyes.”
That made Kirby gasp as fear rushed through his body. At her words she saw the man on her left start to raise his gun. His eyes had adjusted and he had found her. His arm was halfway between lining up with her head and the floor when Cora pulled the trigger. The shot went off with a deadened thwump, the silencer doing its job. The bullet tore through the man’s earlobe, travelling on to pass within an inch of Kirby’s head. He heard the whoosh of air that terrified him. The man squealed in pain grabbing his ear and tumbled back against the wall bleeding profusely.
It was a warning.
And it was the only one she was going to give.
The man then froze, locked in fear, his hand hovering mid-air as the pain overwhelmed him. His shoulders tensed as he considered his options. He had signed up to kill, not be killed.
“How many men have you got around my house?” Cora directed the question at Kirby, all the while keeping her attention on the man. If someone was going to shoot her, he would be the first to try. Kirby was the weak link in the group no matter how much he pretended to be in control. A leader didn’t hide in the doorway, afraid to enter and that was what Kirby was doing.