#this is why amren is extra grumpy

[jmoonjones]

While I wait for that ACOSF extended edition (Sarah’s version) with more romance, please enjoy this mess.

Nesta deserves her 3some. You can’t take away her powers AND her 3way.

[missbrightsky]

I didn’t know where else to go

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Chapter 8: Rhysand 

Well, I thought it started out fine. According to everyone else, however, all the signs for a shit show were there from the beginning.

After Amren snuck into Mor’s apartment and informed us of the incoming shipment for Amarantha, we all sprung into action. Cassian was gathering his men to rendezvous with us where it was coming in, Azriel’s spies scoping out the surrounding buildings and streets. Mor disappeared for a costume change.

Feyre… she watched us, only barely looking unsure of her place in all of this. This would be her first mission with us, the definition of out of the frying pan and into the fire. But she took it all in stride. Less than 15 minutes later all of us were sorted into two cars and were on our way to the docks to intercept the shipment. Feyre had emerged in tight dark grey pants and a black long sleeve that clung to her curves, hair tied back and stuffed into a black beanie. Cas let out a whistle and immediately started spouting his shitty pick-up lines. To my amusement and relief, her only response was to flip him off and follow Mor out of the apartment.

That’s when it all started going downhill. Mor and Cas claimed they wanted to grill Feyre on her police training and drug her into Cas’s SUV. That left me with a quiet Az and ever-grumpy Amren in my sedan. Why I couldn’t be the one to ask about her training was beyond me.

Most of the ride was spent in silence, only broken by texts of information coming through. Ten men were expected to be meeting the container. Contents unknown. Amarantha herself was not expected to be there.

This would be the first real lead on her operation, despite myself, I was optimistic. For once, we would have a handle on her plans.

Oh

How

We

Were

Wrong

Thinking back, it’s lucky that we escaped with only scrapes and bruises with only one of the men grazed by a bullet. Very lucky those were the only injuries but now she knew that there was someone on her tail, and that would make tracking her that much harder.

After a more or less uneventful ride to the docks, we parked a few blocks away from the arrival location. My men were at our sides in seconds, quietly distributing weapons. I already had my typical compact tucked away on my person, I seldom left home without it. Extra ammo disappeared into my pockets and a hunting knife clipped onto my belt. Feyre was offered a 9mm, no one batting an eye if they recognized her as the cop that used to hunt us down. She looked at ease, checking the chamber before tucking it into her waistband. And damn, if it didn’t make her that much hotter.

“I’m going to go scout out rooftops, boss,” Az said to me, carrying a sniper rifle. I only nodded to him, turning to Amren to listen to her explain the plan to the others. She and I had hammered it out on our way over, but I wanted everyone else’s input before finalizing it.

“James, Wernt, Niam and Yao, I want you approaching from the left while Johnson, McGuire, Harlan and Tagaras will come from the right. I don’t want any stragglers escaping, we need all the information we can get.” The eight nodded, having no comments to give. It was a standard flanking procedure.

“Azriel will be on the rooftops, he’ll help keep everyone corralled into one spot,” I said. “Cas, Mor, Amren and I will approach from the containers towards the meeting place. Modrow, Cain and Carvalho will cover our backs. Keep low and keep quiet, I want this done without the police being called on us for as long as possible. Watch your shots, try to take them down using force first.”

“Injure first, kill only if necessary,” Amren warned, her silver eyes flashing in the dark alley. “This will be the most dangerous situation we’ve handled yet. Not your typical rent-a-cops from the research facilities. From what we can tell, these are trained hires, most likely private protection company. We have surprise on our side so use it.”

“My flanking groups,” I said, “Only engage once we have, until then, stay in the shadows and keep your eyes open. Comms are going live… now,” quiet static burst in my left ear before fading. Az’s voice came through, confirming that he has a clear view of the delivery point and that ten men are waiting there. Five grouped up near a semi, three spaced to the side watching the water for the incoming boat, two monitoring the surrounding containers.

Feyre lingered at the back of the group, watching Amren and I lay out the plan with a blank face, no hint of whether she approved or was appalled.

“Go now,” came Amren’s quiet command and the groups scattered, each carefully checking the street before turning towards their destination.

Feyre approached us, “Where do you want me?” No demands to be in the middle of the action, no comments on the plan. Amren let me answer her question.

“I want you with the group who will be covering our backs. I trust them to treat you fairly,” I hastily add on, “Not that any of my men would lay a hand on you, they just already know why you’re here.” She smirked at how I nearly tripped over my words. “Also…,” she tensed, unsure of my next words, “I want you to keep your face hidden in case any of Amarantha’s men escape. They might recognize you and I have a feeling that would be bad for your reputation.”

Feyre released a tight chuckle. “It would be ideal that the rest of the world doesn’t know that I’m helping a crime lord.”

The tight knot that appears in my chest before a mission loosened a little. I wasn’t sure how Feyre was going to take being in the shadows, but it seemed I had nothing to worry about. She followed us out of the alleyway, her steps as silent as ours. The shipyard was only two blocks from our position, but every second out in the open was a risk. Azriel’s spies said that there were only men at the drop site, and they were rarely wrong.

Rarely.

Yards crept by, buildings giving way to a grid of shipping containers and roads. The occasional voice came through on the comm, confirming positions or giving warnings. Feyre easily blended in with the team watching our backs, taking silent cues when to advance and when to hold.

Soon, there was an empty space ahead of us, only the shadows covering us. True to Az’s observations, there were ten men in varying positions, precisely where he said they would be.

Minutes ticked down until a low hum increased in volume. There along the waterfront was a barge, much smaller than the massive ships that frequented this channel. On it was several large crates, all unmarked.

“Hold,” came the quiet command, Amren. It was unnecessary but this operation was too important to take the chance.

More minutes slipped by as the five men by the semi prowled towards the boat, exchanging words that were too low for us to hear. One of the men hopped into a small crane that was on the edge of the water and began unloading the crates when another used a forklift to transfer them to the semi.

“Ready,” Amren breathed. Mor to my left slid her gun from her holster, ready to ambush the clearing.

“Put your gun down.”

My blood ran cold at the growl that came from behind me. Low swearing came through the comms that sounded like Feyre.

The four of us froze, slowly turning towards the source of the sound.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. I realized my thought was the exact same thing that Feyre had muttered a few seconds ago.

The man had short-cropped blond hair and green eyes that glittered harshly in the low light. His stance was ready but relaxed, a predator who knew he had his prey right where he wanted them. Three other men were at his side, guns pointed at us.

Tamlin.

Fucking.

O’Toole.

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