Chapter 3: Infiltration
The faint glow of fluorescent lights bathed the warehouse in an eerie greenish hue. The air was thick with the stench of gasoline and damp wood as Edward and Emmett followed Simon down a narrow aisle between towering stacks of crates.
"This one's important," Simon said over his shoulder, his voice a low growl. "Charlie's got eyes on this shipment, so no screw-ups. You two clear on that?"
Edward nodded. "Crystal."
"Good," Simon said, chewing on his ever-present toothpick. "Because if anything goes sideways, I'm not cleaning it up. You'll be on your own."
Emmett muttered under his breath, "Great pep talk as always, Simon."
Simon shot him a glare, but there was a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Just shut up and do your job, before I fuck both of you up."
Edward and Emmett exchanged a glance but kept moving. They'd been working under Simon's command for months now, long enough to understand his style. He was all business, but his dry humor occasionally peeked through. It was the closest thing to camaraderie anyone got from him.
They reached a cluster of men near the loading dock, where forklifts hummed and metal chains clattered. James was among them, leaning against a stack of crates with his usual cocky grin.
"Look who decided to show up," James said, spreading his arms theatrically. "Our favorite duo. Ready to move some boxes?"
"Ready to do whatever keeps Simon from yelling at us," Emmett quipped.
James laughed, slapping Emmett on the back. "Smart answer. Let's get to it, then."
"Masen! Will!" Simon's voice cut through the noise, sharp and commanding.
Edward and Emmett dropped what they were doing and approached him. He stood near a dark SUV parked at the edge of the dock, his expression unreadable.
"We've got a problem," Simon said. "One of our buyers is trying to back out of a deal. Charlie wants us to remind him what happens when you try to bail on the Swans."
"What's the plan?" Edward asked, his voice steady despite the unease building in his chest.
Simon tossed a set of car keys to Emmett. "We're taking a little drive. You boys ready to make an impression?"
Edward didn't flinch. "Always."
The SUV's tires screeched as they left the warehouse, Simon at the wheel. He explained the situation in clipped tones: the buyer was a mid-level player who had been late with payments before. This time, he'd crossed the line.
When they arrived at a dingy apartment building on the outskirts of the city, Simon handed Edward a crowbar.
"Just in case he needs some convincing," Simon said, his tone cold.
Edward felt the weight of the tool in his hand, his mind racing. He kept his face neutral, his posture confident but inside, a storm raged.
What am I doing?
The thought echoed in his mind as they climbed the stairs. He knew the mission came with compromises. Lies. Deceit. But standing on the edge of violence—real, personal violence—always pulled at something deeper.
The man who opened the door couldn't have looked more pitiful. In his 40s, with bloodshot eyes and trembling hands, he stammered the moment he saw Simon.
"I—I've got it," the man said, holding up a wad of cash. "Here, just take it."
Simon snatched the money without a word, counted it, and nodded. "This makes us even. But next time you're late, I won't be so generous."
The man nodded frantically, his voice a stream of apologies.
Edward's grip on the crowbar tightened, his muscles tense as he waited for Simon's signal. But it never came. Simon turned on his heel and walked out without saying another word, leaving Edward and Emmett to follow.
The drive back to the warehouse was silent, save for the hum of the engine. Edward stared out the window, his mind replaying the man's trembling hands, the desperation in his eyes. He'd been ready. If Simon had told him to use the crowbar, he would have. That was the job. That was the facade. But the thought of it made his stomach churn.
Edward clenched his fists, willing the guilt away. It's just a role, he reminded himself. I'm not here to save everyone. I'm here to bring them all down.
Beside him, Emmett's calm presence was grounding. He didn't say anything, but Edward could tell his brother had felt it too—the weight of what they were asked to be versus who they truly were. By the time they reached the warehouse, Edward had forced the feeling into a quiet corner of his mind. There was no room for doubt here.
Back at the warehouse, Simon pulled Edward and Emmett aside. His usual smirk was gone, replaced with something almost resembling approval.
"You two have been pulling your weight," Simon said, his tone grudging. "Word's gotten to Marcus and Caius. They've got a meeting coming up—something big. And they want you there."
Edward's heart skipped a beat. They'd been working toward this for months, playing the long game and waiting for a chance to move up.
"When?" Emmett asked his tone calm despite the tension in the air.
"Tomorrow night," Simon said. "Dress sharp and don't screw it up. You're making waves, boys. Don't drown."
As Simon walked away, Edward turned to Emmett, his green eyes gleaming with both anticipation and unease.
"This is it," Edward said quietly.
Emmett grinned, clapping his brother on the shoulder. "Guess we're moving up in the world."
Things are moving up with them. Thank you for reading :) What are your thoughts on Edward and Emmett?