Chapter 37

THIRTY-SEVEN

SALEM

M y greenhouse, nestled in the gardens of the estate, was my sanctuary. Here, amid the tangle of vines and blossoms, I found solace.

With the Triad's affairs demanding our full attention, my extracurricular activities had been put on hold. But even as we laid the groundwork for our takeover, I couldn't neglect my black dahlias. They had to be ready for me when I got back to slaughtering the wicked.

As I carefully pruned the flowers, my mind wandered to Cohen. It had been two nights since I last saw him before Lennox and I attended Zoe's party. I wondered if his absence was a deliberate choice, a sign that he was avoiding our plans to take out his father.

I tried to focus on the task at hand, but as I moved through the greenhouse, an unease lingered at the edges of my consciousness. The silence was deafening, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves and the occasional drip of water. It was as if the world outside had ceased to exist, leaving me alone with my thoughts and fears.

I glanced at the clock, noting with a pang of anxiety that the time for action drew near, and yet Cohen remained absent.

With a heavy sigh, I set down my shears. I was about to go inside when Cole's voice jolted me back to reality. "Ready to go, Butterfly?" he asked, his tone casual yet tinged with an undercurrent of eagerness.

I straightened up, wiping the dirt from my hands as I glanced over at him. "Have you seen Cohen?" I inquired, concerned. I needed to talk with him before we left.

Cole shook his head, his expression unreadable. "He left early this morning," he replied, his voice veiled with a hint of uncertainty. "Said he'd catch up with us later tonight."

I frowned, an unease settling in the pit of my stomach. Cohen's absence was unusual, especially given our situation. But with no other option, I nodded in resignation. "Alright, let's go," I conceded, pushing aside my concerns for the time being.

Together, Cole and I gathered our gear, packing everything we needed into the car before setting off toward the city. The drive was tense. Cohen's absence hung heavy in the air.

I tried to call him several times during the journey, but each attempt yielded the same frustrating result: his voicemail. It only served to deepen the knot of anxiety that had settled in the pit of my stomach, a sense of foreboding that refused to be ignored.

Finally, we arrived at the designated building, our footsteps echoing in the deserted street. With purpose, Cole and I made our way inside, carrying our equipment with us.

The stairs seemed to stretch on forever as we climbed, the metal rungs echoing through the staircase as we ascended.

Finally, we reached the rooftop, where the city skyline stretched out before. With practiced efficiency, we unloaded our equipment, the metal clinking softly as we set it up in preparation for the assassination.

The rooftop wasn't our first choice, but it ended up being our best option, the place we all agreed on in the end.

I focused on my sniper rifle. Its familiar weight sat comfortably in my hands as I checked and rechecked each component. With painstaking precision, I adjusted the scope, aligning it with the target window across the street.

The city below seemed to fade away as I concentrated on setting up our sniper's nest, my senses attuned to the smallest details. With a steady hand, I lined up my shot, the crosshairs of my scope zeroing in on the target area with laser-like precision.

And then, with a final adjustment, I was ready. I settled into position, the cool metal of the rifle pressed against my cheek as I waited for our target to arrive.

As I scanned the building across the street, my gaze fixed on the target window, anticipation coiled in my chest. This was it. This was the moment we had been waiting for, the culmination of weeks of planning and preparation.

I took aim. My finger hovered over the trigger as I waited for the opportunity to fire. Every muscle in my body was taut with tension, the adrenaline coursing through my veins as I prepared to unleash the full force of our vengeance.

Cole and I crouched in the shadows of the sniper's nest, our eyes trained on the building across the street. We had been waiting for what felt like hours, our nerves stretched taut.

"Alright, Butterfly," Cole said, breaking the silence with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Let's play a game to pass the time. Would you rather…"

I grinned, eager to indulge in the distraction. "Hit me with your best shot."

Cole leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear as he whispered his first question. "Would you rather wear the same socks for a month or the same underwear for a week?"

I laughed at his absurd question, shaking my head in disbelief. "First of all, gross. But I'd have to go with underwear," I replied without hesitation. "With the rate you lot tear through them, it wouldn't really matter anyway."

Cole chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he considered my answer. "Very true."

"Your turn, Cole," I said, a playful glint in my eye. "Would you rather have the ability to fly or be invisible?"

Cole paused, considering my question before responding. "Hmm, tough one," he mused, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. "I think I'd go with being invisible. Imagine all the mischief I could get up to."

I chuckled at his answer. "I can see that," I replied, nodding in understanding. "But wouldn't flying be more fun? Just think of the places you could visit, and you'd never have to sit in traffic again,"

Cole smiled at my enthusiasm, his gaze lingering on me for a moment before returning to the building across the street. "You make a good point," he conceded, his voice soft with approval. "Flying would definitely be the ultimate freedom."

Our game was interrupted when a flash of movement caught Cole's attention, and he raised the binoculars to his eyes. "They're here," he murmured. "Black Escalade, security detail in tow. Looks like they mean business."

I nodded in silent acknowledgment, my gaze fixed on the building below as we waited for our target to move. Five tense minutes passed before Cole spoke again, his voice hushed. "They're heading for the entrance," he said, his tone grim. "Get ready."

I settled into position, my rifle steady in my hands as I peered through the scope. Down below, I could see Cohen's father entering the building, his security detail surrounding him like silent sentinels.

As they disappeared into the lobby, Cole's urgent voice echoed in my ear. "They're in the reception area. Security's stationed outside. Here comes your chance."

I focused on my breathing, willing my nerves to settle as I waited for the perfect opportunity to strike. Every muscle in my body was coiled tight as I prepared to take the shot.

Just as I was about to squeeze the trigger, Cole's voice cut through the sniper's nest like a knife. "Wait," he said in disbelief. "Someone's with him."

I frowned, searching my scope for any sign of the unexpected visitor. And then, to my shock and horror, I saw him: Cohen, stepping into the line of fire like a figure from a nightmare, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity.

I pulled back as I struggled to make sense of what I was seeing. What the fuck was he doing there? He knew every detail of our plans for this assassination. Why the fuck was he standing between his father and my bullet?

I gritted my teeth in frustration, my fingers tightening around the rifle as I tried to find a clear shot. But no matter how I adjusted my position, Cohen remained in my line of sight, a constant barrier between me and his father.

"Damn it," I muttered under my breath, my frustration bubbling to the surface. ″I can't get a clear shot!"

Cole glanced over at me, his expression sympathetic as he watched me struggle. "It's not worth the risk, Butterfly," he said softly. "We can't put Cohen in danger."

I knew he was right, but the knowledge did little to ease my frustration. As much as I wanted to take out Cohen's father, I couldn't risk harming Cohen in the process.

With a heavy sigh, I pulled back from the sniper, my hands trembling with pent-up adrenaline. "I can't hit one without hitting the other," I admitted, my voice hushed. "I won't hurt Cohen."

Cole nodded in agreement, his gaze lingering on me for a moment before returning to the building across the street. "We'll find another way," he said firmly, his tone filled with resolve. "His days are still numbered."

I wanted to believe him, but all I could focus on was the burning desire to throttle Cohen once I finally had him within my grasp.