Back in the hallway, I crept my way toward the kitchen. I heard water running. They were setting a trap, but I wouldn't be caught in it. Slipping into a bedroom, I rushed across and climbed out the window. I stayed against the house, carefully navigating the terrain, avoiding the rock walkways.
Glass crunched under my boot, and I spotted the broken window they had used to get back into the house after I arrived. I crept around the corner, intent on slipping through the basement entrance, when I noticed the SUV parked with the engine running.
This was too easy.
Quickly, I slipped out of my boots; they would hear my footsteps on the gravel. Keeping my back against the house, I slid my way to the driveway. I checked for anyone outside, but I saw nothing. I rushed up to the back of the SUV and pulled out my knife. It took all of about two seconds to flatten every tire. Before making my way to the house, I jammed my knife into the radiator, for good measure.
They would see it.
It was my message to them.
I crept in through the pool house. There was something I needed. There on the table was a bottle of bleach, one used by Valentina to disinfect everything. It took longer than expected to screw off the top, but once it was off, I shoved a rag in it.
Off I went.
The kitchen was just up ahead. I would leave them something in the trap they set for me. Ducking through the door, I started knocking things off the counter, making as much noise as possible, drawing them in. I heard them coming.
“He's back here.”
I recognized that voice. It was Devon, the Vypers' little henchman. He was a low-level arsonist and nothing more. Why would they send him? He was no match for my skills, and the Vypers knew it. That means they know they won't survive, and this is just to keep me busy.
It worked...until now.
I lit the rag and tossed it in the sink before ducking out the side door. It wouldn't take long to ignite the curtains and take off from there. The fire would spread quickly once it caught. I pulled my gun as soon as my feet hit the grass. There, to my left, a man stood, shrouded in the dark, checking around the side of the house.
I pulled the hammer back. “Give me one reason not to pull this trigger.”