Forgotten Gods: The Heist

Team two enters just behind me as I take in my surroundings. They grab everything the clients need and nothing more. I slowly make my way to the back as my men wrap it up. My eyes narrow on a scroll and I pick it up. Something is pulling me to it, wanting me to have it. I bite my lower lip, flipping it around. Just before I open it, Dominic comes up behind me.

Sitting in my black SUV, I fix my earpiece as I wait for the okay from the first team. You are probably wondering what our mission is. Well, we are breaking into a museum. Boring, I know, but they have some valuable artifacts that my buyers requested. So, here I am. 

The heist is at the Smithsonian, just to complicate things. Talk about challenging, but I am all about a good challenge. I chew on my bottom lip, my eyes scanning the body cams on team one. They have made it underground with little disturbance. Now, they just need to make it into the vaults, and then I will handle the rest. My number two, Dominic, looks over at me, smirking.

“After this, we should celebrate,” he says.

I smirk. “Oh? What did you have in mind?”

“Well, I could take you out.”

“You mean, I will take you out,” I correct, looking over at Walker’s body cam. Dominic knows I am the one who takes others out, not the other way around. I enjoy watching men squirm with discomfort when they realize they aren’t in control of the situation. But the pleasure I can bring them more than makes up for it.

“Right. You take me out. Then you can show me that little room you are always in,” he purrs.

My brow furrows as I open my mouth to snap a witty remark, but I pause, staring at the screen. Something isn’t right. On Walker’s body cam, I notice a smidge of blood on the wall as they pass. It has been way too quiet.

“Walker, freeze,” I order. He does, and the men behind him follow suit. My eyes continue to scan the walls, and I curse. “We’ve been compromised.”

Just then, the ceiling around team one comes down. Gunfire erupts as multiple men and women jump through the hole. Blood sprays everywhere as, one by one, my men fall.

“Fuck,” I curse, jumping out of the vehicle. 

“Chloe, you can’t just go in there after them. It is a death trap,” Dominic snaps.

“Watch me,” I hiss, strapping on my guns and knives. “Stay here.”

“And let you go in by yourself?” Dominic hisses.

“Yes. That’s an order,” I growl, slamming the trunk of the SUV. He would only get in the way. When I go on a murder spree, I tend to not know who is friend or foe. There are at least ten enemies in the section with my team. I doubt any of my men survived. If they have, I pray they stay down until I finish with these morons. 

I walk down the path, unsheathing two knives and rolling my shoulders. I can hear the commotion down the hallway, and I see at least two of my men. I press my earpiece down. 

“Stay down,” I order. With their voices low, I count the others. One…two…five…six. There are at least six left. I roll my shoulders once more before spinning around the corner. Two of my knives go flying, landing in the heart of two of the enemies. One of them shouts, pulling their gun out and shooting toward me. I slip behind the wall again, grabbing my pistols. I take a few deep breaths before spinning out again.

Bang…Bang…I roll to the other wall as two bodies drop. I hear the other two curse in German, and I smirk. So you work for Zackery, hm? This should be easy enough. I spin out again but the last two are gone. I click my tongue before strolling forward. One of my men lifts his head, pointing down the hall to the right. I give him a sad smile as I lower myself to the ground. I hand him a small first aid kit. 

“Patch up and call for Dominic. You can make it through,” I whisper. The man nods as I stand, looking down the hall. Two left. This will be easy. I creep down the hall, holding my gun at the ready. That is when I hear the whispers.

“Chloe ist hier. Wir werden es nicht schaffen,” the one hisses. I go through my mind to translate, and I smirk. Yeah, you both are pretty much fucked.

The other hisses, “Shut the fuck up and work. We will be dead anyway if we don’t get the scroll first.”

I sigh to myself. Ah, to be young and naïve. I muffle a laugh as I pull out my smoke grenade and toss it toward them. I hear it clink three times before it explodes, and both men start to cough. I can hear them cursing as I walk through the smoke with my scarf up. They are squirming as my eyes glow. Oh, how I love to see them squirm. I shoot one in the head, his blood staining the pristine white walls before I hit the other in the back of the neck. He collapses, unconscious on the ground. Too fucking easy.

“Dominic, I have a clean-up in aisle three and one unconscious victim. Think you and the clean-up crew can handle this?” I snort.

“Of course, baby,” he purrs. 

I groan, clicking off the radio. I am going to have to deal with him later, remind him who is in charge. Then again, I have some pent-up aggression, and I know he likes it rough. This could be fun. 

With a smirk, I step over the bodies and make my way to the vault. To my giddy surprise, it has already been unlocked for me. 

Thank you, boys. I step into the room, pulling on my black gloves as I survey the vault. Priceless paintings and vases are all placed carefully inside. Team two enters just behind me as I take in my surroundings. They grab everything the clients need and nothing more. I slowly make my way to the back as my men wrap it up. My eyes narrow on a scroll and I pick it up. Something is pulling me to it, wanting me to have it. I bite my lower lip, flipping it around. Just before I open it, Dominic comes up behind me.

“Everything has been packed up. Are you ready?” he asks.

I nod, tucking the scroll away in my pack. “I am.”

Dominic smirks at me, and we both exit the vault, my mind spinning with possibilities of what the scroll may mean.


In the basement of one of my warehouses, the man from the Smithsonian attack sits tied in one of the chairs. A few of my best interrogators have been at him for the past few days with no luck. It irks me that one of Zachary’s men is able to withstand this torture. I am usually never brought down to these things anymore, but desperate times call for desperate measures. 

Entering the dark room, I sharpen one of my daggers, studying the man in front of me. He is cocky, lips twitching with amusement. Already annoyed, I pull up a chair in front of him, tilting my head as I sit on it backward. 

“Why were you there?” I whisper.

He is silent. I sigh, stabbing his thigh hard with my dagger. He yells out in pain, but his smirk doesn’t falter. Oh, you fucking prick.

“I don’t like asking twice,” I purr, twisting the dagger, “but I will for you. Why were you there?”

The man grits his teeth, his eyes rolling back. “Zackary sent us.”

His German accent is deep, rough. If he wasn’t an enemy, I would have probably bedded him. Who doesn’t like having a foreign man to pleasure? Oh well…

“No shit,” I say, pushing the dagger deeper. “Why?”

“He…he doesn’t want…you to go home.”

My brows furrow. “I am home.”

The man pants. “No…no you… aren’t.” He flicks his tongue, biting down on something in his mouth. “Goodbye, little Chloe.”

Foam bubbles from his mouth, his eyes bulging from his head. I snarl, pushing up from my chair. That didn’t help me. That only gave me more questions than answers. Fuck. I need a drink and sex, something to calm me down. 

I snap at one of my men. “Clean this up. Burn his body until there is nothing left,” I growl, spitting on the ground at his feet. “Thank you, boys.”

I spin away from the scene, making my way back to my house. My home.

Clio (Alice Callisto)
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