Chapter 7

Abby collapsed onto the couch, balancing a freshly made sandwich on his knees. "That was rough, sis," he muttered, taking a massive bite.

Her muffled voice cut straight through the thin walls of their small bungalow house.

She stepped out of the bathroom, rubbing a towel over her wet hair. "Yeah. We might need therapy. A lot of it."

Abby laughed between bites. "I swear."

Chams changed into a pair of sleeping shorts and a tank top. She gathered her damp, dirty clothes from the bathroom counter, but froze as her fingers brushed against the back of her hoodie.

Pinned on the fabric was a tiny, hard disk. Closer inspection revealed a minuscule network of metallic circuitry.

*Did they—*

A sudden clatter from the hallway cut her thoughts short.

Chams grabbed the toilet brush from beside the sink and cracked the door open. "Bro?"

"Yeah?" Abby was still in the living room, staring at the ceiling and sighing.

The front door burst open, slamming against the wall as a strange woman stumbled into the living room.

Jesus!” Abby bolted upright, dropping his sandwich onto the floor. "Who the h£ll are you?"

Her chest heaved. "I'm so sorry, please. Some guys were chasing me."

"And you ran in here? Oh my God. Lady, I can't—"

She clamped her hands together. "Please, I beg you. I won't stay long."

Chams jogged into the living room. "Abby, I think they— what the h£ll? Who is this? WHY IS THE DOOR WIDE OPEN?"

Abby held his hands out. "Wait she said she was being chased, she might be..."

Chams looked past his shoulder and her shoulders slumped.

Abby started to turn, but froze as the icy ring of a gun barrel pressed firmly into the base of his skull.

Chams glared at him. "You need to stop opening doors for ladies. Chivalry must die."

The woman spoke again. Her tone steady and bold. "Both of you get on your knees, hands behind your head."

They did as instructed.

The woman got on her phone. "I'm at their house... Benita isn't with them... what do you mean she can't be here? ... she killed Langa?"

The siblings had identical gaped expressions.

"So what are you saying? We retreat?... oh come on, don't tell me y'all are scared?... my funeral?" She scoffed, pulling the phone away to glare at it.

Abby locked eyes on the bulky dictionary on the table next to him.

"Can you please let us go?" Chams asked.

"Shut up." The lady pointed her gun at Chams and went back to her call. "Listen Hez, I'm not gonna argue with you but what the h£ll do I about these two?..." Her face twisted into a grin as she clicked off the weapon's safety. "That won't be a problem."

"No, no, please."

"We don't know anything about this."

"Say good last words, sweethearts—" She suddenly winced, lowering the phone, as a shot rattled through the line. "Hez, what was that?" She whipped her head to side.

Abby seized the heavy dictionary and yeeted it with everything he had, striking her squarely in the temple.

She misaimed and shot the roof.

Abby lunged forward, slamming her into the carpet. He pinned her wrists to the floor, using his weight to lock her legs down.

Chams plucked the gun from her loose grip.

The woman bared her teeth, squirming beneath him before flashing a grin up at him.

"Don't you dare let her go," Chams warned, aiming the pistol unsteadily at the woman's face.

"Please, just let me go." Her breathy, soft tone from earlier returned.

"That sounds so familiar." Chams mocked.

"Please. Look, we have no use for you anyway. I don't have to kill you two. Hez is making me do it."

Chams stared unblinking. "D@mn it, I wish we had rope lying around here. I don't like the idea of either of us leaving this room alone with her."

Abby exhaled heavily, his breath ruffling the woman's hair. She blinked. "Sorry," he muttered.

Chams was unimpressed by that. "Definitely not leaving you alone with her, softie."

"Here's some rope." Another man emerged from the hallway, holding rope.

Chams pointed her gun at him instantly. "WHO ARE YOU?"

Abby whipped his head around.

Taking advantage of his distraction, the woman bucked her hips, snapping her knee up into Abby's stomach.

"No!" Chams swung the barrel back toward the woman, who was already scrambling to her feet.

The assassin didn't make it two steps before a third intruder intercepted her at the opened door, pistol-whipping her across the temple. She crumpled instantly.

He lowered his weapon and crouched beside her, pressing two fingers against her throat while checking his watch.

Both men wore the same tactical black attire Nonso and Omari had been wearing earlier.

Abby watched from his spot on the carpet, his chest still aching, while his sister’s white-knuckled hands trembled around the grip of the pistol.

Watch where you point that thing," The third intruder said coolly, binding zip-ties around the unconscious woman's wrists and ankles. "She'll be out for a few minutes. That's enough time."

Chams eyed both men. "Enough time for what?"

"So you have met my wife?" He walked over, hands behind his back.

"You're Eliav?" She took a step back, her back hitting the wall. "Look mister, we really know nothing. We just took an injured woman to the hospital. Was that so wrong?"

"No, you're right. You didn't know," Eliav said, stopping a few feet away. "But you do now. You've accessed our secure logs, you've seen our faces, and you know our names."

Chams shook her head. "We committed none of these to memory—"

"We would normally kill you. We have existed so long because no one knows we do."

Abby stood up. "And no one ever will. Please."

"I’m keeping you alive because you saved my wife. Consider your life my token of appreciation. But don't mistake mercy for freedom. You belong to us now."

The second operative stepped forward from the hallway, his weapon levelled directly at Abby. "Lower your piece, girl. You don't wanna go there."

Chams bit her lip, looking at everyone and lingering on her brother. "Fine." She lowered the gun and dropped it to the floor, kicking it towards Eliav.

Eliav nodded once. "Smart girl."

The second operative hoisted the unconscious female assassin over his shoulder.

Eliav gestured toward the door, escorting the siblings outside without restraints, though the unspoken threat of violence remained in mind.

The vehicle was identical to Omari and Nonso's.

Through the tinted windows, the siblings watched as the second operative, whose name was Dare, strode through their living room, dousing their furniture with contents of a jerrycan.

Abby slammed his palms against the glass of the car door. "Wait! Stop! You can't do that. That's our house!"

Eliav exhaled. "Not anymore."

Dare stepped back into the yard, flicked open a lighter, and tossed it through the open front door.

A massive wall of orange fire instantly engulfed the entryway.