Collateral Blood

18

Sloan woke to the sound of distant voices echoing through the warehouse. For a moment, she forgot where she was, the small cot and dim light throwing her off balance. But then it all came rushing back: the kidnapping, the car chase, Harry's hardened gaze, and the decision she had made. She was no longer just a victim—she had chosen to align herself with Harry, to confront her father's lies, and to survive in this dangerous world.

She sat up, rubbing her tired eyes. The warehouse was quiet now, except for the occasional footsteps and murmurs from the men. She wondered what time it was, though it didn't really matter. Time seemed to blur in this place, with no windows and no sense of the outside world.

After splashing some water on her face from a small basin in the corner of her makeshift room, Sloan gathered her resolve and stepped outside. She knew Harry would be waiting for her, ready to begin the next phase of this twisted partnership.

Sure enough, Harry was at a table with Zayn, leaning over a map spread out in front of them. Zayn looked up first, acknowledging her with a nod, while Harry's gaze followed, locking onto hers with that same intensity she was growing accustomed to.

"Ready to begin?" Harry asked, his tone flat and matter-of-fact.

Sloan nodded. "What's the plan?"

Zayn stood up, gesturing toward the map. "We're planning our next move. Lucas and his crew might have retreated for now, but they won't stay down for long. We need to be prepared."

Harry leaned back in his chair, studying her. "But before any of that, we need to make sure you can handle yourself. You said you wanted to help, Sloan. Now you have to prove it."

There it was again—his challenge, his test. He wasn't going to make this easy for her, and she couldn't expect anything less. Sloan knew she had to show them she was serious. No more hesitation, no more fear.

"Alright," she said, her voice steady. "What do I need to do?"

Zayn smirked and stood up, motioning for her to follow him to a larger open area in the warehouse. Several of Harry's men were there, working on their own drills—cleaning weapons, practising hand-to-hand combat, moving crates around to reinforce the warehouse's defenses. The energy in the room was tense, everyone preparing for the next attack.

Zayn handed Sloan a gun, the same kind Harry had made her use the day before. It felt heavy in her hand, a cold reminder of the world she was now part of.

"First, you need to get comfortable with this," Zayn said, his tone instructive but not unkind. "Harry told me you froze up when he asked you to use it yesterday. That can't happen again."

Sloan swallowed hard, gripping the gun tighter. She knew Zayn was right. If she was going to survive, if she was going to fight against her father's lies and protect herself, she had to be able to do this.

Harry watched from a distance, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable. She could feel his gaze on her, judging her, waiting to see if she would fail.

Zayn showed her how to properly hold the gun, how to aim, and how to steady her breathing. He walked her through the basics, his tone patient but firm. Sloan tried to focus on his instructions, blocking out the noise of the warehouse, blocking out the fear that threatened to creep back in.

"You've got this," Zayn said, stepping back after a while. "Now, try it out."

Sloan hesitated for a split second before raising the gun and aiming at a target Zayn had set up across the room. She took a deep breath, steadying herself, and pulled the trigger. The shot rang out, echoing through the warehouse, and the recoil jolted her arm.

She hit the target, but not dead center. Still, it was a start.

Zayn nodded in approval. "Not bad for your first try. We'll keep working on it. You'll get better."

Sloan exhaled, feeling a mix of relief and determination. This was only the beginning, but it was a step in the right direction.

After a few more rounds of practice, Zayn motioned for her to join him and Harry back at the table. Sloan wiped the sweat from her brow, feeling a strange sense of accomplishment despite the weight of everything around her.

Harry was back to studying the map, his brow furrowed in concentration. He looked up when she approached, his green eyes searching hers for a moment before he spoke.

"We're going to move soon," he said, his voice low. "Tom and the others are holding the initial safe house, but we can't stay here forever. We need to regroup and plan our next steps."

Sloan nodded, trying to focus on the logistics instead of the fear gnawing at her. "And what about me? What's my role in all of this?"

Harry exchanged a glance with Zayn before answering. "For now, you keep training. You need to be ready for anything. But eventually, you'll play a bigger part. We need to recover what we lost, and you might be the key to doing that."

Sloan's heart raced at his words. She had suspected as much, but hearing it out loud made it all the more real. She wasn't just along for the ride—she was part of their plan now, part of this dangerous game.

"Whatever it takes," she said quietly, more to herself than to them.

Harry's gaze lingered on her for a moment longer, as if he was trying to decipher something about her. Then he nodded. "Good. We'll need all the help we can get."

As the day wore on, the tension in the warehouse remained palpable. Sloan continued her training with Zayn, learning more about how to defend herself, how to shoot with precision, and how to stay calm under pressure. It wasn't easy, but she was determined. She couldn't afford to be weak anymore.

Later that evening, after the men had settled down for the night, Sloan found herself alone with Harry near the back of the warehouse. The others were resting, preparing for whatever came next, but Sloan couldn't sleep. Her mind was racing, too full of thoughts and worries.

Harry stood nearby, leaning against a stack of crates, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp. Sloan approached him hesitantly, unsure of what to say.

"You're not sleeping?" Harry asked, his voice softer than usual.

Sloan shook her head. "Too much on my mind."

Harry nodded, as if he understood. "It's normal. This life... it changes you. But you adapt. You have to."

Sloan looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the weight he carried—the responsibility, the danger, the constant threat of violence. She wondered how he managed to stay so calm, so in control.

"How do you do it?" she asked quietly. "How do you stay... strong?"

Harry's gaze flickered to hers, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You don't have a choice. You either survive, or you don't. And I've always been good at surviving."

Sloan nodded, absorbing his words. She had a lot to learn, but she was determined to survive, too. No matter what it took.

As she walked back to her small space in the warehouse, she couldn't shake the feeling that something big was coming. Something that would change everything. And she had to be ready.