Devil Incarnate Chapter Twenty-five

Everything was covered in blood—his wife's blood. The floor, the wall, the chair, her clothing . . . their son. He clenched his jaw, exhaling the reeking sulfur still emanating from his Ruger.

"We have business to tend to, gentlemen." Edward followed Jasper and the Zion men out of the room. 

"Sign on dotted line, all good." Ivan pointed to an open door and accompanied them down the hall. 

The other room was larger, perhaps once serving as a conference room. Those in charge ranged around the long table covered in paperwork, while others splayed out in chairs along the room's perimeter.

"I knew you'd go through with it."

The quiet statement was met with a steely glare. The man sat with his legs sprawled out, his hands casually clasped in his lap. Not in charge, but one of the boys. One of the big guns, so to speak. Or maybe he was a useful idiot, like Gianna had been.

"Your type never changes. Going after what's best for you and you alone, as long as it satisfies your greed."

"Enough of talking," Ivan snapped at him before turning to Edward. "You, sign."

Edward stepped closer to the table, knowing Jasper had his back as he was forced to turn it to the room. The pen didn't feel heavy, the weight of what he'd done didn't settle between his shoulders. His name flowed smoothly over the thick, expensive paper, and then he withdrew the list from his pocket and held it out. 

"This is the information we agreed on."

Ivan accepted the outstretched offering, followed by another man within his ranks bringing forth a briefcase. Setting it on the table, he opened it to reveal stacks of cash. 

"Old school," Jasper remarked. "We can respect that."

“Money is the only thing that matters to you people, after all.”

While Jasper closed the case, Edward glared down at the talkative one. "I hope you're happy."

"No, but it's a start."

After one last glance around, Edward said, "Let's go."

They hustled down the hall, meeting up with Seamus and Quinn. They made it to the stairwell in one piece, but it was still just the four of them. 

“Where’s the rest of the team?” Seamus asked as they ran down the stairs.

“Better be right behind us,” Edward responded.

“Others are coming,” Jasper said, pressing a button on his earpiece.

“Others ours, or others theirs?”

“Both.”

“Fuck.”

They reached the ground floor and ran for the exit nearest their vehicles. A man stepped out of a doorway, and Edward punched him in the throat, jabbing his elbow into his nose and wrenching the gun from his hand. 

“One down,” Quinn remarked, brows raised.

“Hundreds to go,” his father replied.

Seamus stopped at the end of the corridor, checking around the corner. “If they’re escaping too, do we know where they’re going?”

“The bunker,” Edward said. “With the decoy bomb, they’ll be sitting there thinking they’re about to blow up the world when they aren’t.”

“So we should head there from here, cut them off.” Jasper leaned around the corner, shot someone, and whipped back around as bullets embedded in the concrete by his head.

“If we can get clear first, otherwise we follow and make it hard on them to huddle in their hiding place.”

Quinn flattened himself against the wall on the other side of Edward. “But why wouldn't we let them escape back to Russia if they don't have the bomb anymore?”

“Someone has to take out Ivan and his rats. Nikolai or Alexei will just take over if we don't get them, too.”

“Stupid bastards.”

Edward snorted at his son’s choice of words. “Terrorists are usually stupid, but also geniuses.”

“I think the gunfire has stopped,” Seamus said. 

“Then let’s get around this corner.”

They moved slowly, checking doorways for possible hideaways. When they’d made it to the end of the hall, they pushed the outer door open a crack and threw out an IED. 

Closing the door rapidly, they hunched over behind it, listening to the detonation before proceeding out. Bodies littered the asphalt, their vehicles up ahead seemingly unharmed.

“Check those,” Edward ordered Seamus.

He aimed his explosive trace detector in the direction of the vehicles. “I don’t see anything, but we should check again when we’re closer.”

“No heat signatures in the vicinity,” Jasper added, his gaze on the device in his hand.

Edward pressed the button on his comms to unmute. “Anyone near the SUVs?”

“Coming now. ETA less than five.”

Satisfied with the response, Edward ordered the other three to remain in the shadows. Anyone could pop out at any minute, and they didn't want to be sitting ducks waiting in a running vehicle. 

He spotted them coming, the reflective patch on Emmett’s vest the first hint it was friendlies. “Too easy, too easy,” Edward chanted. Something was about to go down; it always did with these guys.

“What’d you do with lebed?”

Instead of answering Emmett’s question, Edward put his finger to his lips and ordered Emmett, Killian, Jake, and Garrett behind him. “Something’s up. I feel it.”

That something came in the shape of a missile, sailing through the night sky and blowing up their only escape. The group of them cringed, covering their ears and still feeling the ringing despite that.

"Rooftop!" Edward shouted in response to the communication in his ear. They hurried to the nearest stairwell, Jasper taking point while Edward watched their six, everyone else in between. 

“This has been a fun bonding experience,” Edward said sarcastically to Quinn, receiving a glare in return.

"Don't think for one second this is over," Quinn hissed at his father. “For the moment, we’re running for cover to save our asses, but I haven’t forgotten your treachery.”

"Feeling the need to prove you have the bigger balls?"

"Easy there, tiger," Seamus said to Edward. "There's plenty of time for a pissing match later."

"Hold." Jasper held up his fist, peering around the corner. "Men. Guns."

"What a shock," Seamus whispered. 

"Pathway?" Edward asked. 

"Negative."

They readied their own weapons, edging around the corner. At the first opportunity, they opened fire on the men guarding the exit. 

"They'll know where we are now."

Killian was right, so Edward signaled for them to move faster. In the back of his mind, he realized Quinn had taken down at least one of the Russians. Would he regret the death later, when the dust had settled, or would he consider it necessary for the greater good?

"There."

One lone door stood before them, the only solid escape from that place. They all knew the likelihood of Zion betraying them—whether they considered it again or still—and were prepared to fight back. So when they opened the door to the roof, no one was surprised to see a platoon of Russians greeting them. After a quick inspection, Edward noted that Ivan and his two comrades weren’t among them. Most likely, they were halfway to the hideout, and this was a stalling tactic.

“Well, well, well. Traitors, all of you.” Edward spread his arms wide, his rifle hanging on its strap around his shoulder and neck. “Let me guess, the money is too precious and you need it back?”

“You’re one to talk about being traitorous.” Stepping forward, Charlie flicked his cigarette butt on the ground. “Killing your own wife for monetary gain.”

“It wasn't done for the money,” Edward responded.

“Might as well have been! Do you even realize what I lost because of you?”

“Nothing you didn't drive away with your own stupid, selfish actions.” 

Charlie’s eyes narrowed. “You stole my daughter, stole my wife, and I lost my job!”

“You lost your job because you were so desperate to pin false accusations on me that it never occurred to you how dirty you’d become.”

“Dirty cops are your favorite kind, boy.” Charlie spit to the side. “Too bad you didn't have me on your payroll. Could’ve saved yourself some grief.”

“You’re still bitter over me turning you down, old man.”

Eyes narrowed, Charlie took a step forward. “I would have kept my mouth shut for the right amount of money.”

The men behind Edward tensed, he could feel it. They were ever ready with their weapons, but so were the Russians. Calculating his odds, Edward discovered it could quickly become a bloodbath up on that roof.

Edward laughed, hoping to egg Charlie into doing something rash. “You would have taken it straight to your bosses as evidence against me. Don't pretend otherwise. You had plenty of chances to be Bella’s father, to be Quinn’s grandfather. You pissed them away for petty revenge.”

Charlie threw the first punch, but he was soft from years off the job. Edward punched him back, bloodying his nose. The kidney jab took Edward by surprise; he hadn't expected such skill out of the old man. Searing pain ripped through his torso, stealing his breath. Taking the advantage, Charlie hit him again, clipping his jaw. Gritting his teeth, Edward threw his weight into the next assault, pushing the other man back far enough to hit him in the eye. 

“My wife left me over you!” Charlie roared, huffing to catch his breath. 

Only feet away from him, Edward tried to regulate his own breathing. “Your wife left you once she realized what a piece of shit you are. Clearly, she was right.”

“Clearly, it doesn't matter anymore. She’s nothing now, is she? Nothing but a pile of ashes like my bitch daughter.”

The high caliber round exploded through his skull, spraying his brain matter on the men behind him and all over the ground. Another round was chambered into the weapon, the racking loud against the chopping rotors of the waiting helicopter. A few more men fell as bullets rained down on them, but the others ran for safety.

“Go! Go! Go!” Edward shouted.

“Helo’s hit,” Emmett responded, ducking for cover as something blew up.

“What the fuck!” Jake dodged a blow to the head, pulling back far enough to shoot the man who’d come for him. 

“We need a way out ASAP,” Garrett said. “Is the helo flyable?”

“Air support incoming,” Killian said. “According to Holden.”

Who even knew anymore if he could be trusted to follow through with his promises? Edward had begun to leave the agency out of their plans, since they hindered their deals nine times out of ten.

“He should have had evac in place already,” Seamus said, helping his brother over a pile of rubble. Killian clutched his waist, pulling away a bloody hand.

“Dammit,” he mumbled.

“Oh, no, you’re not dying on me, you son of a bitch.” Seamus threw his arms around him, helping him hobble to the wall.

“Don't talk about Ma like that, or I’ll kick you in the balls.”

“Ha. Ha. Sit,” Seamus ordered.

“Take cover!” Garrett shouted.

The best they could do was hunch over like they were kids having a duck and cover drill in the fifties. Bright white light exploded nearby, and people and equipment flew through the air. The automatic weapons on the roof’s corners were disabled in the blast, and the sound of aircraft closing in became obvious.

“About time,” Jasper called as the new helicopter made its way over to their building.

“As long as no one fucking shoots us down, that is.” Seamus helped Killian get back up, and they headed toward Holden.

“This is everyone, yes?” Holden called.

Edward looked around, counting them off in his head. “That’s everyone.”

“Then let’s get this bird back in the air,” Holden said, closing the doors behind them and signaling to the pilot.

Edward looked out the window at the building below them as they rose into the air. Lights blinking out, busted windows, dead bodies. It was almost over, was all he thought. The fight he’d never wanted, had never asked for, was almost over. They had to find the bunker—the cave carved from the mountainside that Ivan, Nicolai, and Alexei hid in—and figure out how to cut the head off the hydra. 

Was it worth it in the end? Everything he’d lost, had sacrificed, was it worth it in exchange for saving the world? 

That was a question he couldn't yet answer.

Ivan