Wrench & Blood

The Bloody Welcome

The safehouse was dark when Adam and Leo arrived.

Not the usual darkness of a building with its lights off. This was a dead darkness. The kind that came from broken bulbs and shattered windows and power lines cut by bullets.

Adam stopped at the corner of the block. He pulled Leo into a doorway.

"Stay here," he whispered.

"I can help—"

"You can help by staying alive. If I'm not back in ten minutes, run. Find somewhere safe. Don't come looking for me."

Leo's face was pale, but he nodded.

Adam crossed the street alone.

---

The front door of the auto body shop was off its hinges. Someone had kicked it in—or shot the lock off. Adam stepped over the splintered wood and into the darkness.

The smell hit him first.

Gunpowder. Blood. Something else—something sweet and cloying. Death.

He pulled out his flashlight, cupping his hand over the lens to dim the beam. He swept it across the room.

The map was torn. The weapons table was overturned. Shell casings littered the floor. And in the corner, slumped against the wall, was a body.

Adam's heart stopped.

He moved closer. The flashlight beam found a face.

Frank.

The old man's eyes were open. His mouth was slightly parted. A bullet hole in his chest, another in his throat. His hands were still wrapped around his rifle—empty. He'd died fighting.

Adam knelt beside him. He closed Frank's eyes.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

He kept moving.

---

The back room was worse.

Dom lay on the floor near the cot. His body was twisted, his arms reaching toward the door. He'd been trying to crawl. Trying to escape. Three bullet wounds in his back. He never made it.

Elena was propped against the wall near the bathroom. She was alive.

Adam saw her chest rise. Shallow, ragged, but rising.

He dropped to his knees beside her. "Elena. Elena, can you hear me?"

Her eyes fluttered open. They were glassy, unfocused.

"Adam," she breathed. "You came back."

"Of course I came back. Where are you hit?"

"Side. Arm. Maybe somewhere else. I can't feel my legs."

Adam pulled back her jacket. Her shirt was soaked with blood. Too much blood. He pressed his hands against the wound in her side.

"You're going to be fine. Just hold on."

"Don't lie to me, boy. I've been shot before. This one's different." She coughed. Blood bubbled on her lips. "They took the others. Micheal. Sandra. Vince. Dragged them out."

"Who?"

"Cindy's people. Cross was leading them. He's alive, Adam. He's very much alive."

"Where did they take them?"

"The Docks. Warehouse 14. Same place they killed Danny. They want you to come."

"It's a trap."

"Of course it's a trap. But you're going anyway." Elena smiled. It was a weak, bloody smile. "You're stubborn. Just like Danny."

"I'm going to get you out of here first."

"No. You're not." Elena grabbed his wrist. Her grip was surprisingly strong. "I'm done, Adam. I've been done for years. But you—you have to finish this. You have to make sure Cindy pays."

"She will. I promise."

"Good." Elena closed her eyes. "Good."

Her grip loosened.

Then it went slack.

Adam sat beside her for a long moment, his hands still pressed against her wound. The blood was warm. Then it was cold.

He stood up.

---

Leo was still in the doorway across the street. Adam waved him over.

The kid ran across the pavement, his eyes wide.

"What happened?"

"Frank and Dom are dead. Elena's dead. They took Micheal, Sandra, and Vince."

Leo's face crumpled. "Who did this?"

"Cross. He's alive. Cindy faked his death to throw us off."

"What do we do?"

"We go to Warehouse 14. We get our people back. And we end this."

Adam picked up a shotgun from the floor—one of Frank's, still loaded. He checked the chamber, pumped a round into the pipe.

"You don't have to come," Adam said.

"I know."

"This isn't your fight."

"Frank taught me to shoot. Dom taught me to drive. Elena made me feel like I mattered." Leo picked up a pistol. "It's my fight now."

Adam nodded. "Then let's go."

---

They took one of the sedans—the one Dom had prepped. Engine running. Gas tank full. A rifle in the back seat.

Adam drove. Leo rode shotgun, his laptop balanced on his knees.

"I can't hack anything without power," Leo said. "The battery's dead."

"Then we do this the old-fashioned way."

"What's the old-fashioned way?"

"Shoot first. Ask questions later."

Leo swallowed. "I was afraid you'd say that."

---

Warehouse 14 was on Dockside Road, at the far end of the port. The same warehouse where Danny had died. Where Adam had found his brother's body.

Cindy had chosen it deliberately. A message. A reminder.

Adam parked three blocks away. He killed the engine and the lights.

"We walk from here," he said.

They moved through the dark, staying close to the buildings. The rain had stopped again, but the ground was wet. Every step squelched.

Leo's breathing was loud. Adam put a hand on his shoulder.

"Slow. Quiet."

"I'm trying."

"Try harder."

They reached the warehouse's north side. A chain-link fence, topped with razor wire. A gate, padlocked shut.

Adam pulled out a pair of bolt cutters—he'd taken them from the safehouse. He cut the lock in three seconds.

They slipped through.

---

The warehouse was lit from within. Pale yellow light spilled through grimy windows. Adam could hear voices. Laughter. The clink of glasses.

He found a window with a broken pane and looked inside.

The main floor of Warehouse 14 had been transformed. Shipping containers were stacked against the walls, forming a kind of arena. In the center, there were chairs. A table. A bottle of whiskey.

And tied to the same wooden chair where Danny had died was Micheal.

His face was bloody. His shirt was torn. His hands were bound behind his back. But his eyes were open. He was alive.

Sandra was on the floor beside him, her wrists tied to a pipe. Vince was in the corner, unconscious or dead—Adam couldn't tell.

And standing over them, whiskey in hand, was Leo Cross.

His bandaged head made him look like a ghost. His left arm hung useless at his side. But his right hand held a gun, and his eyes were bright with malice.

"Where is he?" Cross asked.

"I don't know," Micheal said.

"You're lying."

"I'm not."

Cross kicked him. Micheal's chair tipped over. He hit the concrete hard, grunting.

"You were with him. You've been with him this whole time. Don't tell me you don't know where he's hiding."

"He's not hiding. He's coming for you."

Cross laughed. "Let him come. I'll put a bullet in his head just like I put one in his brother's."

Adam's hands tightened on the shotgun.

"Wait," Leo whispered. "There are more of them. Look."

Adam looked. Around the edges of the room, hidden between the shipping containers, were guards. At least a dozen. Maybe more.

Walking in alone would be suicide.

But walking away wasn't an option.

---

Adam circled the warehouse. There was a loading dock on the east side—the same one Elena's team had used at Warehouse 17. The door was open. A truck was parked inside, its engine warm.

He counted three guards near the truck. They were smoking, laughing, not paying attention.

"Leo," Adam whispered. "I need you to create a distraction."

"What kind of distraction?"

"The kind that makes a lot of noise."

Leo looked at the truck. At the gas tank. At the lighter in his pocket.

"I have an idea."

"Do it. Give me two minutes, then run. Don't look back."

Leo nodded. He crept toward the truck.

Adam moved toward the loading dock.

---

The explosion was deafening.

The truck's gas tank went up like a bomb. Flames shot into the air. The three guards were thrown across the dock, their bodies limp and burning.

Inside the warehouse, alarms started blaring. Voices shouted. Cross's voice, furious: "Find them! Find them now!"

Adam ran through the smoke.

He burst through the loading dock door, shotgun raised. A guard appeared in front of him—Adam fired. The guard dropped.

Another guard to his left—Adam swung the shotgun, fired again. The guard screamed and fell.

He was in the warehouse now. The smoke was thick, stinging his eyes. He could see the chairs. The table. The whiskey bottle.

And Cross.

Cross was dragging Micheal toward the back door, using him as a shield.

"Cross!" Adam shouted.

Cross turned. His eyes found Adam through the smoke.

"Kosta. I was wondering when you'd show up."

"Let him go. This is between you and me."

"You're right. It is." Cross put the gun to Micheal's head. "But I'm not letting him go. I'm going to kill him. And then I'm going to kill you. And then I'm going to find that little hacker friend of yours and kill him too."

"You'll have to get through me first."

"That's the plan."

Cross fired.

But not at Micheal. At Adam.

Adam dove behind a shipping container. Bullets ricocheted off the metal. He heard Cross shouting orders, guards converging on his position.

He was trapped.

---

"Adam!" Leo's voice, from somewhere above.

Adam looked up. Leo was on the catwalk, the same catwalk Adam had used at Warehouse 17. He had a rifle—Frank's rifle—and he was firing down at the guards.

"Go!" Leo shouted. "I've got your back!"

Adam ran.

He sprinted from behind the shipping container, firing as he went. Two guards went down. A third dropped his weapon and ran.

Cross was dragging Micheal toward the back door again. Sandra was on the floor, struggling against her bindings. Vince was stirring in the corner.

Adam had seconds.

He raised the shotgun and fired at the back door. The blast caught Cross in the shoulder—the same shoulder Micheal had shot at the cabin. Cross roared in pain, dropping Micheal.

Micheal hit the ground hard, but he was free.

"Run!" Adam shouted.

Micheal ran. He grabbed Sandra, cut her bindings with a knife from his belt, and pulled her toward the loading dock.

Vince staggered to his feet and followed.

Cross was on the floor, bleeding, cursing. His guards were retreating—Leo's rifle fire was too accurate.

"This isn't over!" Cross screamed.

"It is for you."

Adam walked toward him, shotgun raised.

Cross's eyes widened. He tried to raise his gun, but his arm wouldn't work.

"Wait—"

Adam fired.

Leo Cross fell backward, his body slamming against the concrete. His eyes stared at the ceiling, empty and dead.

Adam stood over him for a moment. Then he turned and walked away.

---

Outside, the rain had started again.

Micheal was leaning against the wall, bleeding from a cut on his forehead. Sandra was sitting on the ground, her wrists raw. Vince was vomiting in the gutter.

Leo climbed down from the catwalk, his hands shaking.

"Is it over?" he asked.

"Cross is dead. Cindy is still out there." Adam looked at the burning warehouse. "But we're not done."

"What now?"

"Now we find her. And we finish this."