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I chuckle. "Only the best for you," I reply, guiding her to the metal table at the center. We take our seats, and the cold metal of the chairs is a stark reminder of the seriousness of this place.
Alan sends a quick text, his fingers moving deftly over his phone. Moments later, the door opens again, and more people file into the room. They're a mixture of familiar and new faces, each carrying the same determined, cautious look—the atmosphere shifts, thick with anticipation and the weight of unsaid things.
As the others stand, waiting for their turn to speak, I sense Selene's slight unease. She leans in slightly, her voice low. "What happens now?"
"We listen, we plan, and if necessary, we act," I whisper back, keeping my eyes on the others in the room. "But remember, no matter what, stay quiet and observe."
The first to speak is Bob, one of my father's oldest friends and a seasoned veteran in our operations. He clears his throat, addressing the group with a measured tone. "As you all know, the situation in Venezuela has escalated. There's substantial civil unrest, and both sides are looking for an edge."
I nod slightly, aware of the opportunity it presents. It's a grim business, profiting from conflict, but hesitation or moral qualms don't have a place here. "We have shipments ready to move," I interject. "Payment has been secured from both factions. It’s just a matter of logistics now."
Selene's gaze flicks to me, her eyes a mix of fascination and something darker, perhaps doubt or fear. I squeeze her hand under the table again, a silent message of reassurance.
Bob continues, shifting the topic. "In other news, the Americans have pulled out from another sector in Iraq. Left behind some heavy artillery, including tanks. We've secured them before ISIL could make a move."
Murmurs of approval ripple through the room. It’s a significant acquisition, one that could bolster our standing significantly.
The room’s mood shifts as Alan brings up a more somber subject. "There’s something else we need to discuss. It’s about Andrew O’Sullivan."
A collective breath seems to be held; Andrew’s recent disappearance has been a shadow over all of us. "Rumors are that he was taken out by a hit. An organized one," Alan continues, his face grim. "If that’s true, whoever did it might not be finished with us yet."
Selene stiffens beside me, her earlier excitement giving way to the stark reality of our lives. The danger isn’t just a story or a thrilling secret; it’s real and palpable.
"We need to tighten security," I say, my voice firm. "Everyone needs to be more cautious. We don’t know who we’re dealing with, but we have to assume they’re serious."
Nods of agreement meet my statement. The rules of engagement are clear: stay alert, trust cautiously, and protect your own.
“They are,” Alan interjects and glances around the room at all the men. “Oisin Cormick has been missing for several weeks. The old man was retired from the game, and people are starting to worry that he was a victim of a revenge hit.”
I knew the disappearance of Oisin would finally be brought to the table, so I wasprepared to give nothing away, but I used this opportunity to watch Selene’s face during this particular part of the meeting; I wanted to see if she was capable of hiding the truth.
She doesn’t flinch. She passes.
The meeting comes to a close, and I’m the first to rise. Selene follows suit, refraining from asking any questions until we are out of the pub and back in the car.
She gnaws on her bottom lip, the wheels spinning in her mind.
We drive for a few miles before she speaks.
“What happens when everyone finds out about Oisin?”
“They won’t,” I reassure her.
“But if they did?”
I glance at her before refocusing on the road.
“The Hands Kings would have my head.”
She takes in a large lungful of air.
I reach across and place my hand on her leg.
“They won’t, Selene. I’m too good at what I do,” I say and hope I’m right. I was sloppy with Andrew and Oisin, two kills that could cost me so much, but once I find out who set me up with Andrew’s death, I’ll pin Oisin’s death on them, too.
I’ll kill two birds with one stone.
"I know what happened to Oisin Cormick," she states, her voice steady yet carrying a hint of trepidation. She pauses, as if measuring the impact of her words before continuing, "I just have to ask; do you know what happened to your uncle?"
