Connor's cigarette smoke slowly dissolved into the cold night air. He ran a hand through his hair, visibly nervous.
"Are we really sure about this plan?" he asked, his voice low and uncertain. "I mean... she's just a girl. She doesn't seem involved in her father's 'shady business.' Shouldn't we.. maybe spare her?"
Jack dropped the cigarette butt, crushing it firmly under his boot. He let out a deep sigh.
"Come on, Conny... we've been out of the game for a while. Since we retired from the army, we've gotten soft. Like Cole said, we should put our skills to use. And besides... I need that money. but I doubt they can really exist..." Jack said with a hint of sarcasm.
Leaning against a wall, Cole rubbed his temples. He was tired of his teammates' complaints. For a moment, he seriously considered slapping them both to shut them up.
"Escuchen, pendejos! (Listen up, idiots!)" he snapped, fixing them with a sharp look, "if you don't want to be part of my plan, just walk away. I don't need anyone slowing this down."
He then turned to Jack.
"You agreed because you got fired from your miserable job. Bethany left you because, let's be honest, you're a good-for-nothing never exactly 'Father of the Year.' You can't even afford your daughter's college. That money is all you've got left to turn your life around, right? Or am I wrong?"
Jack lowered his eyes, saying nothing.
"And you, Connor," Cole continued without missing a beat, "blew through all the savings you scraped together in those damn army years, and now you're living like a homeless guy. I'd really like to know why they haven't thrown you in jail yet, all those savings you spent on drugs. So basically, you two are here for one thing only: the hidden money."
Cole checked his watch. The ticking of the second hand counted down the wait.
"We know it's a crime, but we're ex-soldiers. We've got training, strategy, skills, brains, and cold blood. That girl... her father's a big shot in the cartel. If we take her hostage and threaten him, he'll fold. He'll give us what we want. And when he lowers his guard... we hit him. Got it?"
Jack and Connor nodded silently, pulling their balaclavas over their faces.
Cole had been waiting for months. Six long months of planning, scouting, and calculations. Now was the perfect moment: right place, right time, right target.
At exactly 10 PM, he hid in a narrow, pitch-dark alley. The air was damp, with a faint smell of gasoline lingering. His muscles were tense, his breathing controlled.
Light footsteps approached. The sound of shoes on pavement was like a metronome counting down to the strike. The figure passed by, unaware.
With a swift move, Cole grabbed a pre-soaked cloth and pressed it firmly over her nose and mouth. She struggled, elbowed, tried to scream, but the fabric muffled the sound. Her vision blurred, her legs gave out, and she slipped into unconsciousness cradled in her captor's arms.
Within seconds, the three loaded her into the car and sped away, leaving the city lights behind.
After an hour of driving, they reached a shabby old apartment with broken windows and peeling paint. Inside, the air was thick with dust and mold.
Once inside, they gently laid her on the bed, but not without Jack's sarcastic comment:
"Hope this girl's got more patience than Connor when I explain my plans, huh." He gave a half-smile.
Cole blindfolded and tied her up, inspecting every detail carefully. There was no room for mistakes now; the real game was just beginning.