Chapter 25 #2
“Bird’s in the air. Cargo secure.” Gray now, and there’s no mistaking the satisfaction in his voice.
“Decoy team,” Saint says in my ear. “What’s your ETA to the pickup?”
“Two minutes,” Declan tells him.
Two minutes and we’re out. We did it. We executed a flawless mission.
I grip the handlebars tighter, releasing another breath of relief.
We’re almost out. Our maps showed the tunnel ending in a clearing beyond the facility’s southern perimeter, so we shouldn’t encounter any stray guards.
The tunnel curves up ahead, and it isn’t until we approach the turn that I realize something isn’t right.
The hairs at the back of my neck stand on end when I hear it.
The hum of a force field vibrating through the confined space.
It grows louder, bouncing off the walls, and as we round the corner, I suddenly see it: the shimmering blue wall at the end of the tunnel. Glowing with an unnatural intensity.
The force field that was supposed to be down…isn’t.
Fear pummels into me as the opening looms closer. As I watch Neema hurtling at breakneck speed toward it.
“Neema!” I scream. “Stop!”
It’s too late.
She crashes into the force field, sparks exploding in the air as she’s thrown from the bike. The metal rims of the tires create another flurry of sparks as the vehicle twists and whips through the air, flying back and nearly taking Declan’s head off.
My reflexes seize control of my body. I know slamming on the brakes won’t do a damn thing. I’ll just skid right into the force field. So I dive out of my seat and go airborne, the world spinning as I roll away, hitting the concrete hard.
“Declan!” I now shout.
But he’s still moving.
Why is he still moving?
“Declan!”
As panic grips my throat, I once again act on pure instinct. It happens so naturally I don’t even question it. I thrust open a path and harness the gold, siphoning every speck of energy as I hijack Declan’s mind.
“Jump!” I command.
I’m overcome with relief when he jumps off the motorcycle at the very last second.
Electricity arcs from the force field as the bike collides with it.
Declan’s body slices past the resulting sparks, a hairbreadth from having his arm blown off.
His bike jolts and jerks from the live current.
I hear an unnatural shriek and realize it’s the sound of the electricity surging through the machine.
A blue-white flash illuminates the tunnel as the force field sparks again.
“Declan!”
I run to him. He staggers onto his knees, his entire body trembling.
“Are you okay?” I demand, helping him up.
He ignores the question, his wild gaze searching the shadows. “Neema,” he grinds out.
“She’s over here.”
We stumble toward Neema’s limp figure. Smoke rises from her body, and the sharp scent of burnt hair and flesh stings my nostrils. I’m worried about touching her in case electricity is still coursing through her body, but there’s no reason to. Her eyes are wide open. Unblinking. Lifeless.
Declan’s arms begin to ripple silver. For a second I think he’s being electrocuted, until I realize what he’s doing.
“She’s gone,” he says flatly. “No energy signature.” He taps his earpiece. “Saint. The force field is active. Neema’s dead, and we can’t get out this way.”
“Shit. All right. Leave the way you came in and get to the original drop. I’ll redirect Lu.”
“Copy.” Declan’s breathing sounds shallow as he cuts the feed.
We both stare at Neema again. Lying there on the ground, fried to death. What a gruesome end. I didn’t like her much, but I never wanted her dead.
“Let’s go,” Declan finally says.
My bike is the only surviving vehicle. Declan reaches it first, but as he tries to right the sleek machine, he suddenly keels over, breathing hard.
“What’s wrong?” He dismisses my concern by waving his hand, but this time I don’t let him. “Did any part of your body make contact with the field?”
“Just my sleeve,” he mutters. “It didn’t touch me.”
I’m not so sure about that. He’s panting as if his lungs are having a tough time keeping up, and I’m worried his heart might be struggling, too. I know even the smallest current of electricity from a force field can screw up the body’s natural rhythms.
I intercept him before he can climb onto the bike.
“You’re in no condition to drive,” I say firmly. I swing my own leg over the seat instead. “Get on.”
Without another word, he settles behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. I feel his hands shaking, his chest heaving.
Yeah, something is very wrong. I crank the throttle and speed back in the other direction.
To my relief, we don’t encounter a Command ambush, and I’ve never been happier to see the sky than when we finally emerge from the tunnel.
But my joy is short-lived.
“Minor setback,” Teriq reports over the comm. “Turns out we left someone behind. A Mod is being held in the camp prison for attacking a guard this morning.”
“Who is it?” I ask, unable to ignore the uneasy sensation in my gut.
“Doesn’t matter. We’re already in the air.” Teriq’s tone is resigned but resolute. “We got forty-one out of forty-two. I’d call that a win.”
“Who. Is. It?” I repeat, and though I hear the hostility in my voice, I can’t stop it.
There’s a beat, but I know what Teriq is going to say before he even says it.
“Tana Archer.”