Chapter 25
Cross is at the salt mine.
Teriq’s words run on an endless loop in my mind. The entire flight, I vacillate about when to reach out to Cross. I fully intend to warn him about our impending assault—I’d never forgive myself if something happened to him—but this entire mission hinges on the element of surprise.
And you don’t trust him.
I try to shove the accusation out of my mind, but it’s too late. It’s taken root.
It’s not true, though.
I trust him. Of course I do.
Then why aren’t you contacting him right now?
My anxiety has me in a choke hold, making my head spin. I’ve never been in this position before. The man I love might be in danger, and I’m purposely remaining silent.
“Two clicks from the landing zone,” Luisa says in our earpieces.
We all undo our harnesses and adjust our chutes, checking that everything’s secure.
Saint rises to his full height, ducking as he makes his way to the cargo door.
Once he has it open, cool air hisses through the small plane.
I nervously tug on the straps of my parachute, praying that the rip cord works when I pull it.
The first time I jumped out of a plane was during a Command training exercise.
It was the most exhilarating feeling in the world, and the novelty hasn’t worn off one bit.
The moment I’m airborne, a thrill shoots through me.
This is the closest a human will come to flying, and it’s a terrifying, freeing sensation.
For one heart-stopping moment, you’re not tethered to the earth or the sky. You just…exist. Suspended in the air.
The sky is more purple than black tonight, the color of bruised eggplant.
I don’t know why that’s the image that comes to mind, but it’s all I’m picturing as I fall from the plane, the cold wind biting into my face.
The drop zone looms far, far below us. I wait until I see Saint’s parachute billow open before pulling my own rip cord, and it engages with a sharp snap.
I focus on the ground, hitting it with a soft thud a few moments later. Several meters away, Neema lands, rolling and then rising to her feet in one fluid, practiced motion. It annoys me how skillfully she did that.
The moment my boots meet land, my anxiety returns. It’s been churning like an eddy in my stomach since I found out Cross was here. I will warn him. Soon. We just need to take out those perimeter guards first.
“This way,” Saint says, striding toward the tree line. He looks deadly as hell in a tight black shirt that hugs his impressive chest, weapons strapped to every inch of him.
In the brush we find a cache of vehicles in a hidden carport like the one Gray showed me outside the city.
Saint, Henley, and the rest of the attack team converge on the supply truck while Neema and I hang back, waiting for direction.
It soon comes in the form of a lanky figure emerging from the shadows.
It’s Declan. The last time I saw the man, he was taking me to a safe house in the Point, which I then escaped so I could try to save Uncle Jim.
I know he recognizes me, because his dark-brown eyes narrow when they flick over me.
He doesn’t remark on my presence, turning instead to report to Saint.
Silently. They’re both in long sleeves, but Saint’s are pulled up just enough that I can see the veins in his wrists shimmering.
So much for full disclosure. The telepathic conversation doesn’t last long, and then Declan addresses me and Neema.
“You’re with me. We’re taking the bikes.”
My pulse quickens as I watch Declan stalk toward one of the sleek bullet bikes in the corner of the carport.
Neema hisses under her breath as she passes me. “Don’t fuck this up.”
I roll my eyes at her back.
The attack team piles into the black supply truck, Henley sliding behind the wheel.
His golden hair is pulled back and tied at the nape of his neck, emphasizing his chiseled features.
The engine barely makes a sound as Henley starts the truck.
Headlights off, he pulls out of the port, tires crunching over branches and overgrowth as the vehicle slips away into the darkness.
Declan secures his pack over his shoulders, as does Neema. They’re carrying the charges. I twist my rifle so it’s strapped across my back.
“Stay close.” Declan swings his leg over one of the motorcycles.
Neema and I follow suit, the soft rumble of our engines breaking the silence a moment later. I keep my head low, fingers curled around the handlebars as we speed down the dark road in the direction of the mine.
It isn’t long before the silhouette of the sprawling facility comes into view.
It looms in the distance, its shadow stretching across the barren land.
From what I read earlier in the files, the Ice Canyon salt mine runs over eight miles underground.
It taps into a huge salt deposit that stretches from Ward B all the way north to New Ontario, the former name of Ward A.
Chatter echoes through the feed as the other teams get into position.
With our signal jammers preventing her from being spotted by the Company’s radar tower, Luisa is already back in the air, ready to launch her air assault.
No sugar bombs tonight—the goal isn’t to obliterate the entire facility—but she’s been tasked with causing damage to the watchtower in the northeast corner.
We slow the bikes just outside the perimeter, where we have a clear vantage point overlooking the opening of the supply tunnel.
The night is dark save for the fog lights from the guard towers sweeping over the landscape, but we’re well hidden in the brush.
I clock the two guards we were expecting.
One is stationary at the edge of the tunnel, the other making his way along the perimeter, about a hundred meters away.
Declan addresses me telepathically. “Wait for my signal.”
I track the walking soldier through my rifle scope. My breathing is even, hands steady as I hold my position. Several seconds tick by before I hear Declan again.
“Take ’em out.”
His instincts are impeccable. The perimeter guard is nearly on top of us. I fire without hesitation, and he goes down with a thud. The soldier at the tunnel only manages to turn his head a fraction of an inch before my bullet finds its mark between his eyes.
“Nice,” Neema says grudgingly.
The three of us stay rooted on our bikes, watching the tunnel to see if anyone rushes out of it to check on their fallen comrades. But the shadowy entrance remains quiet and still.
You need to warn Cross.
The urgent voice in my head is getting louder, screaming at me, but it’s not time yet. Timing is fucking everything.
Saint’s low voice suddenly slices over the feed. “Light it up, Lu.”
The distant roar of an explosion reverberates in the distance, and the sky lights up in a burst of orange for a split second before everything goes dark again.
The faint smell of smoke carries in the wind, filling my nostrils, and then I hear another sharp blast and catch a quick glimpse of plumes billowing upward.
“Move,” I hear Saint command, and I know their supply truck is now tearing toward that perimeter. A second later, he barks orders at us. “Decoy team, go.”
As the three of us speed forward on our bikes, I finally allow myself to link with Cross. I’m not surprised when his angry growl instantly echoes in my head.
“Was that you?”
“Yes,” I confirm as I squeeze the throttle harder. “We’re extracting the slaves.”
“Goddamn it, Dove.”
“We weren’t just going to let them die.”
“I told you I would handle it.”
“Well, we’re handling it, so I’ll take any support you can offer.”
There’s a beat.
Then, “I’ve got you. Always. You know that.”
I love him so fucking much.
As gunfire erupts in the distance, we drive directly into the supply tunnel. The schematics I studied earlier revealed a complex network of tunnels and shafts, but we’re not going all the way down to the mine. The tunnel we’re in runs one level above the mine shaft.
The weak glare of fluorescent bulbs guides our path through the wide passageway, and the air smells like damp earth and concrete.
“Down here,” Declan says over his shoulder.
We reach the first section, which according to the map I memorized is a key structural point in the tunnel. Declan and Neema slide off their bikes and quickly unload their packs. I remain on guard, my rifle sweeping the shadows, ensuring we have no unexpected visitors.
The two of them work fast, expertly attaching charges to concrete, each charge lighting green when it’s activated. Then they’re back on their bikes and we’re speeding to the next designated section.
“Charges set,” Declan reports to Saint not even a minute later as Neema snaps her final charge onto a stone pillar. “Ten minutes till detonation.”
“Get to the pickup,” is Saint’s response. He sounds slightly distracted, and I can only imagine what kind of chaos the attack team is dealing with right now.
“Let’s move,” Declan says.
Neema’s already shooting forward. I’m about to follow when I notice that the last charge she set doesn’t have a green light.
“Declan,” I say over telepathy. “Neema’s charge didn’t stick.”
He jumps off his bike and jogs over to handle it. The green light flickers on, and a second later he and I are both tearing after Neema, who’s already several meters ahead of us.
Excitement buzzes through me as we speed down the tunnel.
For us, the entire mission lasted less than ten minutes, but my adrenaline is still sky-high, my heartbeat a rapid staccato in my chest. All that’s left for us to do is exit through the west end of the tunnel and reach the secondary pickup zone.
Luisa and the attack team should already be en route.
I pray that our team distracted the Coppers long enough for Teriq’s team to evacuate everyone, but he hasn’t reported yet.
“Extraction complete.”
I spoke too soon. Relief erupts inside me at Teriq’s confirmation.