The Price Of Hatred

Chapter 5 - Broken Glass

​“Tell me where the fuck Tidder is,” James demanded again, his voice dropping into that low, dangerous register that promised nothing but casualties.

​“And who the hell are you to her anyway?” Roman asked, his interest piqued by the raw fury in James's eyes. He turned and gestured vaguely toward the heavy iron doors at the rear of the hall. “Well, if you must know... she’s alive. Still breathing, surprisingly. She didn't suffocate inside the heavy wooden coffin that delivered her to me.”

​“Coffin?” James echoed, his head snapping toward Todd, his brow furrowed in a mixture of confusion and horror.

​“Yeah,” Todd added, shooting an apologetic glance toward James. “Your sister was delivered to them inside a sealed coffin. I forgot to mention that specific detail back at the apartment. It slipped my mind during the car ride.”

​Roman froze mid-stride. The smirk vanished from his face, replaced by a sudden, rigid stillness. “Sister?” He looked at James, then turned his gaze back to Butcher, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. “Tidder is your sister?”

​The pieces of the puzzle suddenly clicked together in Roman's mind, and the realization didn't please him. He turned abruptly toward the head guard standing by the rear entrance. “Hey. Bring me the girl. Bring her out right now.”

​The heavy iron door at the back of the hall groaned open on its hinges. Two tactical guards stepped through the frame, pushing Tidder forward into the bright, blue-tinted light of the command center. Her hands were cuffed securely behind her back with heavy steel restraints, her dark hair matted with sweat and dirt.

​As she was shoved into the center of the room, her eyes swept across the space, instantly taking in the sight of James and Todd bound to the chairs. Yet, her face remained an absolute mask of stone. Not a single muscle twitched in her jaw; her eyes remained cold, vacant, and completely detached. She didn't offer a glance of recognition, acting as if the two men bleeding in front of her were complete strangers.

​“Here she is,” Roman said, stepping up behind her and grabbing her roughly by the shoulder, forcing her forward. “It seems your brother came across the entire country just to get you back so badly. Quite a touching family reunion.”

​Tidder looked directly into James’s eyes, her gaze as cold and unyielding as arctic ice. “My brother?” she spat, her voice dripping with a bitter, defensive scorn. “I don’t fucking know this asshole. I don’t have a brother. I never did.”

​She shifted her gaze away from James, turning her eyes up toward Roman, her voice dropping into a low, deceptive purr. “And Is that why you brought me out here? So you could show off your new toys? Or did you finally decide to ask one of your boys to uncuff me and give me a proper knife so I could look you in the eyes while I fucking kill you?”

​“What—” Roman began, his brow furrowing as he reacted to the strange arrogance in her tone.

​But he never got to finish the thought.

​In a single, fluid blur of motion that defied the human eye, the heavy steel handcuffs clattered loudly to the concrete floor—Tidder had picked the locking mechanism hours ago using a loose wire from the coffin liner, waiting for the perfect moment of distraction.

​A small, wicked, three-inch surgical blade she had kept hidden inside the thick skin of her palm flashed brilliantly under the fluorescent lights. Before the guards could even react, she drove the blade deep into the meat of Roman’s right thigh, twisting the steel with a brutal, visceral wrench.

​Roman let out a high-pitched, agonizing scream, his legs buckling beneath him. As he began to fall, Tidder twisted the knife out of his leg with a wet tear and lunged upward. She wrapped her slender, iron-strong arm around his throat from behind, pulling his head back against her chest and pressing the blood-slick edge of the blade directly against his pulsing jugular vein.

​The guards in the room went into an instant panic, a dozen automatic rifles snapping up in unison, the lasers painting bright red dots across Tidder’s chest and forehead.

​“Take one more fucking step!” Tidder screamed, her voice echoing through the cavernous hall like a terrifying war cry that froze every man in his tracks. Her eyes were wild, wide, and entirely manic. “Take a single step, and I swear to God you’ll listen to him choke on his own blood as I open his throat from ear to ear!”

​James watched the display from his chair, a grim, terrifying smile slowly forming across his bloody face. The fear that had gripped his chest moments before evaporated, replaced by a surge of dark, familiar pride. “That’s my sister,” he muttered under his breath, his teeth stained pink with blood. “That's her.”

​“Drop the fucking guns! Right now! And untie them!” Tidder commanded, her voice unyielding as she shifted her weight, pressing the razor edge harder into Roman's flesh, drawing a thin, bright line of crimson that began to trickle down his white collar. “Do it now, or his head comes off right in front of you!”

​Roman struggled desperately for air, his face rapidly turning a deep, suffocating purple as Tidder’s forearm choked off his windpipe. He could feel the cold steel vibration against his artery. “Drop... drop the fucking guns!” he wheezed out, his hands clawing uselessly at her arm. “Do what she says! Drop them!”

​The heavy automatic rifles clattered loudly against the concrete floor, one after another, rolling away into the shadows. One of the tactical guards hurried forward, his hands shaking as he drew his combat knife and slashed through the heavy ropes binding James and Todd to their chairs.

​The moment the hemp fell away, James and Todd scrambled to their feet, their muscles stiff and aching, but the adrenaline overrode the pain. They rushed across the floor, picking up two of the dropped rifles and moving to stand shoulder-to-shoulder beside Tidder as she held the trembling, bleeding Roman hostage.

​Todd glanced around the immediate perimeter, his eyes scanning the layout of the operators who were still frozen at their desks. “Where the hell is Butcher?” he asked, noticing the massive man was no longer standing by the chairs.

​Tidder didn't lower the knife an inch, her eyes locked on the operators. “Butcher is right here,” she said, her voice carrying a strange, cryptic emotion that none of them could decipher. “Hey! All of you tactical boys! Move! Get into that corner office right now!” She pointed the barrel of her captured rifle toward the tinted-glass enclosure.

​The remaining guards and computer operators shuffled forward slowly, their hands raised, their training completely overridden by the raw fear of watching their employer bleed out on the floor. They packed themselves into the tight office space like cattle.

​“Lock the fucking door!” James shouted, his voice booming through the hall.

​Todd slammed the heavy, reinforced glass door shut and threw the thick iron security bolt, sealing the soldiers inside.

​The moment the perimeter was secure, Tidder shoved Roman away from her with a disgusting grunt. He collapsed heavily onto the concrete, clutching his bleeding thigh, his breath coming in ragged, pathetic gasps as he rolled onto his side. Todd walked up to his prone form, standing over him with his rifle lowered.

​“I told you.” Todd said, his voice entirely devoid of pity as he looked down at the ruined suit jacket. “We wouldn’t have had to hurt a single one of your people if you had just let us take her easily. You should have taken my offer when it was on the table.”

​Before Roman could form a response through his groans, Todd drew his right fist back and delivered a brutal, calculated right hook directly to the man's jaw. The impact echoed through the room with a sickening crack, and Roman’s head snapped back against the floor, his eyes rolling back as he drifted into instant unconsciousness. “You really should have taken the deal,” Todd muttered, wiping his knuckles on his trousers.

​Tidder turned her sharp gaze to Todd, her chest still heaving from the exertion. “You said Butcher brought you here.”

​“Yes, he did,” Todd said, gesturing toward the empty center of the room where the chairs stood. “He was standing right beside us when we woke up. He must have slipped out the moment the chaos started.”

​“You think a man like him waits around for an anyone?” Tidder said, her voice bitter.

​Suddenly, before they could even make a move toward the exit, a piercing, blood-red emergency light began to flash rhythmically across the ceiling, and a deafening, high-pitched klaxon siren began to wail through the subterranean facility. The automated security system had detected the perimeter breach.

​“We have to run! Now!” Tidder yelled, turning on her heel and sprinted toward the main exit tunnel.

​They tore through the corridors, their boots pounding against the concrete in a desperate rhythm. As they burst through the final security doors and out into the cool, sharp Spanish night air, the perimeter searchlights snapped onto them. Immediate gunfire erupted from the outer guard towers.

​Thwip! Crack! High-velocity bullets whizzed past their heads, sparking violently off the rusted metal structures of the old oil station and kicking up shards of stone around their ankles. They sprinted blindly toward their hidden car, throwing the doors open and diving into the cabin as bullets tore through the rear bodywork. James slammed his keys into the ignition, threw the transmission into reverse, and then slammed it into drive—flooring the accelerator. The tires let out a high-pitched scream of burning rubber as the vehicle rocketed out of the station area, disappearing into the dark, winding coastal roads.

​As they hit the empty, open highway, the immediate threat faded into the rearview mirror, but the heavy adrenaline began to wash out, replaced by the bitter, agonizing sting of words that had been buried for years.

​James gripped the steering wheel with a white-knuckled intensity, his eyes fixed rigidly on the dark asphalt ahead as the car sped through the night. Tidder sat in the front passenger seat, her hands still stained with Roman’s blood, the manic energy finally fading to reveal a deep, exhausting hollow.

​“Why did you come all this way looking for me, James?” Tidder asked, her voice quiet, almost frail against the roar of the engine.

​James shot a quick, furious look at her before snapping his eyes back to the road. “Why?” he repeated, his voice thick with a volatile mixture of anger and raw emotion. “Because you fucking sold yourself to a syndicate, Tidder! You put yourself in a goddamn coffin! They could have killed you before we even came! You walked straight into a slaughterhouse!”

​“That’s none of your fucking business if I die in a theres.  ” Tidder snapped back, her voice rising as her protective walls went right back up. She twisted in her seat to glare at him. “My life is my own.”

​“You’re my sister! You’re the only goddamn thing I have left in this world!” James roared, slamming his hand against the steering wheel.

​“Fuck you!” Tidder screamed back, her tears finally spilling over her soiled cheeks. “Since when did you ever truly give a damn shit about me, James? Huh? Look at our life! You only come looking for me when you need something from me! When you need a package, or a place to hide! I’m sure that’s the exact reason you’re here right now! You don't want a sister, you want an asset!”

​“Hey, guys... look out,” Todd’s voice cut through the screaming from the back seat, his tone urgent and suddenly dead serious.

​Through the cracked windshield, a few hundred yards ahead in the center of the dark road, a lone, massive figure stood perfectly still beneath the amber glow of a solitary streetlamp. The man was bracing a heavy, high-caliber tactical rifle against his shoulder, the barrel pointed directly at their oncoming grill.

​“James, turn the car! Turn the fucking car right now!” Todd yelled, lunging forward to grab the back of the driver's seat.

​But the vehicle was moving too fast, and the distance was too short. The shooter pulled the trigger.

​BOOM. BOOM.

​The heavy rounds struck with devastating force. The entire windshield shattered into a million spiderwebbed fragments, showering the interior with lethal glass rain. The front tires exploded into shreds. The car swerved violently to the left, completely out of control, spinning sideways down the asphalt before crashing brutally through the wooden guardrails and plunging into the thick, dark woods bordering the highway. The vehicle slammed into a massive pine tree with a deafening crunch of metal, the engine compartment instantly erupting in a thick cloud of white steam and acrid black smoke.

​Minutes passed in agonizing silence.

​The lone shooter walked slowly away from the streetlamp, his heavy boots crunching on the gravel as he approached the smoking wreckage to confirm the kills. The dense white smoke pouring from the mangled hood made it almost impossible to see through the shattered frames of the windows. He stopped at the driver's side door, reaching out with his gloved hand to break away the remaining shards of safety glass, clearing his view into the dark cabin.

​Through the haze, he could see James slumped heavily over the steering wheel, his forehead resting against the cracked plastic, a thick trail of dark blood matted into his hair and covering the entire right side of his face. He looked entirely lifeless.

​The man reached his thick arm through the broken window, wrapping his fingers into James’s hair, preparing to hoist his head upward to check for a pulse or deliver a point-blank execution shot.

​In that exact microsecond, James’s eyes snapped wide open—blazing with a terrifying, primal hatred.

​With a speed born of pure survival instinct, James’s right hand shot upward from his lap. Before the shooter could even register the movement, the cold muzzle of James’s handgun was driven violently upward, pinning itself directly beneath the man’s chin.

​James pulled the trigger.

​BANG.

​The muffled explosion echoed through the quiet forest. The shooter’s head exploded in a spray of dark crimson against the leaves, his grip instantly releasing as his lifeless body collapsed heavily backward, slumping onto the damp forest floor like a discarded rag.

​Ten minutes later, the world dissolved into a chaotic, terrifying blur of harsh fluorescent lights and screeching tires.

​Tidder could hear the frantic, overlapping voices of medical staff, the sharp clatter of metal tools, and the rhythmic, terrifying rattle of a gurney moving at high speed. She couldn't open her eyes fully; her entire field of vision was swimming in a thick, suffocating red haze of pain and blood. She was being rushed through the double doors of an emergency operating wing.

​The heavy bullet from the highway ambush had torn straight through the passenger door and buried itself deep into her abdomen, tearing through muscle and skin. Beside her parallel gurney, Todd was also being wheeled down the corridor in a matching state of panic, a thick white layer of gauze wrapped around his forearm, already completely soaked through with brilliant crimson where another heavy round had pierced clean through his flesh.

​As the heavy, cold wave of the anesthesia finally took hold of her system, pulling her under into the void, the absolute last image Tidder’s fading consciousness registered was the blurred, silhouette of James. He was standing perfectly still in the center of the clean hospital hallway, completely covered from head to toe in dirt, grease, and fresh blood—watching her go under with an expression of pure, unadulterated iron resolve.